“Do you observe what I am doing, Udo? Miss Mather will sit here upon the opposite side of the cave. If you attempt to get up from your bed, she will burn the papers. Simple, isn’t it? Also quite effective. She doesn’t want to shoot you, Udo--nor do I. And of course if the papers were burned, it wouldn’t hurt England a great deal. As long as the papers are in Germany, my capture may throw them into German hands, _nicht wahr_?” Udo von Winden’s head moved slightly from left to right. With an _auf wiedersehen_ thrown over his shoulder at Udo, Hammersley went outside the cave, where Doris followed him. She was on the point of tears, but she succeeded in a smile. “Don’t worry, Doris, old girl. Just going down for a stroll about.” “But why, Cyril?” “Goin’ to throw ’em off the scent,” he whispered. “But they’re already off the scent.” For answer he kissed her gently and bade her keep up her courage. Then he gave her the papers, saw her inside the cave again and in a moment was gone. The more Hammersley thought of his plan the better it seemed to him. The day was still young. In three hours he could do much. He crossed the amphitheater of rocks and followed the rocky gorge by which he had entered last night and when he emerged upon the farther side, paused and watched for a while to be sure that Wentz and his men were not in sight and then descended the face of the rocks skillfully and in a moment was creeping on all fours through the underbrush up the side of the mountain. It was steep here and rugged, but in a while he reached the old deer trail over which he had passed when he had doubled on his pursuers last night. But instead of following it, he halted a moment to listen and then crossed into the undergrowth which at this point was so thick that at twenty paces even he was not visible. He slipped among the treetrunks and evergreens, moving rapidly, making a wide circle up the mountainside almost to its top, descending then by easy stages, until he had covered four miles at least when he bore slowly down toward the Schöndorf road. Hare and hounds! An exciting game even in the old days when it meant athletic honors, but now, with the alternatives of death as the penalty of capture and a great triumph as the reward of escape, it made his blood run madly. A good game--a fair game, with success as the reward of intelligence.