is delivered----"

"Ah, Fraeulein, it shall be as you say. By Allah, I swear----"

"Do you care enough? I will give you anything I possess if you will keep
my secret."

"Ah!" her eyes were downcast and her tone was pained. "That the Fraeulein
should not believe in my friendship----"

"But I _do_ believe in it----"

"Still," broke in Yeva smiling craftily, "I should very much like to
have something by which to remember the Fraeulein--the pink sleeping
garment which is so sweetly smelling and soft to the touch."

"It is yours, Yeva. See," and Marishka took it from the valise, "I give
it to you."

The girl gurgled delightedly, and crooned and kissed the garment like a
child with a new doll. She was for trying it on at once and, thus for
the moment relieved of Yeva's scrutiny, Marishka bent over the
tabourette, pen in hand. But before she wrote she called Yeva again.

"There is no entrance to this house except by the garden, Yeva?" she
asked.

"Oh, yes, to the _selamlik_, the _mabein_ door and this----"

She walked to the side of the room and thrusting aside a heavy
Kis-Kelim, showed Marishka a door cunningly concealed in an angle of the
wall.

"That leads--where?" Marishka asked.

"To a small court of the next house."

"And the street below?"

Yeva nodded and renewed the inspection of her new present in the mirror,
so Marishka wrote:

HUGH,

I am a prisoner in a house near the Sirokac Tor beyond the
Carsija--a house with a small garden the gate of which has a blue
door. I am treated with every courtesy, but I am frightened. Come
tonight at twelve to the small court at the left of the house and
knock twice upon the door. I will come to you. Forgive me.

MARISHKA.

While Yeva was scrutinizing her new adornment in the small mirror
Marishka reread the note. She did not wish to alarm her lover unduly,
for perhaps after all there were no need for grave alarm.

The intentions of Captain Goritz were perhaps of the best, his given
word to liberate her, to free her from her promise and return her to her
friends, had been spoken with an air of sincerity, which under other
conditions might have been impressive. But some feminine instinct in her
still doubted--still doubted and feared him. And in spite of his many
kindnesses, his few moments of insensibility to her weariness and
distress there in the motor in the flight from Konopisht, and in the
railway carriage when he had