"The--the valet's room. Quick!" she gasped, pushing him backward across the room and through the doorway. Behind him the swinging leather door closed silently again; the girl stood rigid, white as a sheet, then she walked to the oak table, picked up a book, and dropped into the depths of a leather arm-chair. Outside the mellow whirr of the motor had ceased; the door of the car closed with a click; quick, firm steps ascended the path; there came a low jingling sound, the clash of metal, then a key was rattled in the outer lock, turned sharply, and the door creaked open. Karen rose to her feet. Every atom of colour had fled her cheeks. "Karen!" "You?" she said in a ghost of her own voice. Kurt von Reiter seemed astonished. He came forward very quickly, a tall, thin, faultless figure moulded perfectly into his tight sea-grey uniform. Bending only a very little from the waist as though too tightly buttoned in, he bowed above the icy hand she extended, paid his respects with flawless courtesy, straightened up, placed his shrouded spiked helmet on the table. "I had scarcely expected to find you awake," he said. "It is after two o'clock in the morning." She made a supreme effort at self-control. "I have been a trifle nervous, Kurt. There was trouble at Lesse Forest last evening." "Yes. Who told you?" "I was there." "At Lesse!" "Yes, a guest of Mrs. Courland--an American lady." "I know about her. She is a friend of Mr. Guild." Karen nodded; a painful and fixed smile quivered in her colourless lips. "Was Mr. Guild there also?" inquired von Reiter. "Yes." "He left with the others, I suppose." She said: "Everybody was in a panic. I invited them to come here, but a patrol from Trois Fontaines galloped up and ordered them to go through Luxembourg--across the Dutch frontier. It seemed very harsh." The girl had seated herself again; von Reiter drew up a chair beside the table opposite her and sat down. Candle light played over his dry, sandy-blond face and set his blue eyes glittering. "Are you well, Karen?" "Quite, thank you. And you?" "God be thanked, in perfect health." He did not mention three broken ribs still bandaged and which had interfered with the perfectly ceremonious bow of a German officer. He said: "I took this opportunity to come. It was my first chance to see you. Been travelling since noon." "You--remain tonight?" "I can not. I came for one reason only. You know what it is, Karen." She did not answer. He waited a moment, looked absently around the room, glanced up at the stag's antlers, then his gaze returned to her. "Were you much frightened by what happened at Lesse?" he asked. "You do not look well." "I am well." "Did you experience any trouble in leaving England?" "Yes, some." "And Mr. Guild? Was he--useful?" "Yes."