“You need not fear that. My reputation has long been at the mercy of all the lying braggarts in the country. Men label me socialist one day, individualist the next. I become communist or egotist, as is most convenient to the speaker and most damaging to myself. But there,” he exclaimed, regaining the tranquil serenity which characterized him, “why should I rail at the world when I might be talking to you? How is my old friend Hans?” The sound of a key in the latch startled them. “It is only Erica,” said Raeburn. “I had forgotten she was out.” “My pretty little namesake! I should like to see her. Is she still a zealous little atheist?” “No, she has become a Christian,” said Raeburn, speaking with some effort. “So!” exclaimed Haeberlein, without further comment. He himself was of no particular creed; he was just indifferent, and the zeal of his friend often surprised him. Raeburn went out into the passage, drew Erica into the front sitting room, and closed the door. “There is an old friend of yours in my study,” he said. “He wishes to see you, but you must promise secrecy, for he is in danger.” “Is it Herr Haeberlein?” asked Erica. “Yes, on one of his rash, kindly errands, but one of which I don't approve. However, his work is over, and we must try to get him safely off to France. Come in with me if you will, but I wanted to tell you about it first, so that you should not be mixed up with this against your will, which would be unfair!” “Would it?” said Erica, smiling, as she slipped her hand into his. Haeberlein had taken a newspaper out of his pocket, and was searching for something. The gas light fell on his clean-shaven face, revealing a sweet-tempered mouth, keen blue eyes, a broad German forehead, and closely cropped iron-gray hair. Erica thought him scarcely altered since their last meeting. He threw down his newspaper as she approached. “Well, my Herzblattchen!” he exclaimed, saluting her with a double kiss, “so you are not ashamed of your old friend? So,” holding her at arms' length and regarding her critically, “Potztausend! The English girls do beat ours all to nothing. Well, my Liebchen, dost thou remember the day when thou carried the Casati dispatches in thy geography book under the very nose of a spy? It was a brave deed that, and it saved a brave man's life.” Erica smiled and colored. “I was not so brave as I seemed,” she said. “My heart was beating so loud, I thought people must hear it.” “Has thou never heard the saying of the first Napoleon, 'The bravest man is he who can conceal his fear?' I do not come under that category, for I never had fear never felt it. Thou wouldst not dream, Herzblattchen, that spies are at this moment dogging my steps while I jest here with thee?” “Is that indeed true?” exclaimed Erica.