“A bit roughish, but not so bad?” She nodded while he busied himself in building the fire. There were dry leaves, twigs and logs in the corner, and soon a blaze was leaping cheerfully upward. And while she wondered at the signs of occupancy he answered her thought. “It’s Lindberg’s. He comes here often. It was here that he and I always slept when we went on hunting trips. You see there’s a natural chimney overhead in the rocks where the bally smoke goes out. They might observe the smoke by day, but at night we’re quite safe. I’ve been all around the place when the fire was goin’ and there isn’t a sign of it outside.” He helped her put her coat off and made her comfortable close to the fire, after which he quickly took the package of papers out of his pocket and examined them. The single papers were military orders of no importance to one Lieutenant Orstmann, obviously the dead messenger. Hammersley put them aside, breaking the seal of the heavy envelope and examining its contents carefully. First a letter of instructions to His Excellency von Stromberg, signed in the bold hand of the Emperor of Germany himself. He showed her the signature and explained its contents and all thought of weariness went from her mind. “It is--it’s what you came for?” “Yes,” he replied, smiling grimly. “I’ve got it.” “Is it--it isn’t so important that you can’t tell me?” she asked timidly. He laughed, put his arm around her and held her for a moment tenderly. She had endured where a man might have flinched, and yet at this moment she was all woman--timid, weary unto death, but still curious. It was the master impulse. “No,” he smiled. “You’ve jolly well earned the right to know. I’ll tell you.” He was so big, so strong, so certain of himself that she wondered how, for a moment even, she could have thought him other than he was. With a sudden impulse of pride and tenderness, she rose, put her arms around his neck and bending his head down to hers kissed him upon the lips. He caught her to him and held her in his arms. “O Cyril,” she murmured, “that I could ever have failed in my belief in you, that I could ever have thought that you were false! Why didn’t you tell me the truth? I would have kept your secret.” “It was impossible, dear. It was too big a thing and I was sworn to silence. But since you found out----” “Did you think me curious--” she asked naïvely, “because I read the cigarette papers?” “Curious!” he laughed. “Well rather! The mistake I made was in tellin’ you _not_ to read them. If I----” “Don’t laugh at me,” she whispered. “I can’t stand that. The only retribution for what I did this afternoon is a blow. If you struck me, Cyril, I should not care.” “But I won’t, you know, old girl. But I’m going to kiss you again if you don’t mind.”