you manage so cleverly that I am
beginning to trust implicitly to your guidance and knowledge. But there
is one thing that puzzles me. It must be more than a whim which makes
you think that Herr Renwick will follow us to Sarajevo."

"Not _us_, Countess," he smiled; "I said _you_."

"But granting that he would follow me--which I doubt--how could he know
where I have gone?"

Goritz laughed easily.

"He will find a way."

Marishka's face grew sober.

"I fear Herr Renwick's friendship cannot achieve miracles. The last he
saw of me was in a hut in Bohemia. What clew could he have----? What
possible----"

"Ah, Countess," Goritz broke in, "you do not realize as I have done the
cleverness of the Austrian Secret Service. We have so far eluded them.
We were very lucky but it cannot be long before the green limousine will
be discovered, and the direction of our journey."

"But even that----"

"To a clever man like Herr Renwick--to a man whose affections are
involved," he added slowly, "it would not be difficult to decide where
you have gone. He knows the discomforts and dangers you have passed
through to achieve your object. He will, of course, seek your apartment
and read the meaning of your sending for your clothing just as
easily"--he paused a moment and smiled at the back of Karl's head--"just
as easily," he repeated slowly, "as though you yourself had written him
a note telling him--er--exactly which train you had taken."

Marishka felt the warm color flooding her neck and brows. In writing
Renwick she had broken her promise to this man not to communicate with
her friends. Goritz watched her pretty distress for a moment with
amusement which speedily turned to interest.

"Of course, Countess, you did _not_ write to him?" he said, with sudden
severity.

"I owe you an explanation, Captain Goritz----" she said timidly.

"You wrote--Countess?" evincing the most admirable surprise.

"I inclosed a few words in my note to my maid--a warning of danger and a
request that Herr Renwick leave at once for England----"

And as Goritz frowned at her, "Surely there is no harm in that."

"Your word of honor----"

"I betrayed nothing of my whereabouts or plans," she pleaded.

"How can I know that you speak the truth?"

"I swear it."

Goritz shrugged lightly.

"It is, of course, a woman's privilege to change her mind. Still, you
put me upon my guard. It is unfortunate. How can I be sure that you will
not be sending ot