The sight of
the dial startled him. Had Marishka succeeded in reaching the Duchess or
had----? Forgetting his quarrel with Linke in the new interest in
portending events, he questioned,

"You have heard from Sarajevo?"

"By wire at Yranduk," said Linke, nodding gravely. "The Archduke Franz
and the Duchess of Hohenburg were assassinated this morning in the
streets of Sarajevo."

Renwick's knowledge of the plot and the difficulties which surrounded
his and Marishka's efforts to prevent its consummation had convinced him
that the attempt would at least be made, but Herr Linke's bold statement
of the fact shocked him none the less.

"They are dead?"

"Both," said Linke. "They died before reaching the Landes hospital."

"Who----" Renwick paused, aware that names meant nothing.

"A Serbian student, named Prinzep."

The Englishman said nothing more, for he was again thinking of Marishka.
She had failed! Had she arrived too late or had her visit to Sarajevo
been prevented? And if so where was she now? There was nothing for it
but to go on to the Europa Hotel and inquire for the note that she would
leave there. In a somewhat desperate mood, he followed Herr Linke into
the small hotel at Duboj, for he knew that he could not go on without
food, having eaten nothing since the day before. As he hesitated, the
_goulash_ upon the dish before him, Linke smiled.

"You need have no further fear, Herr Renwick," he said calmly. "We are
now friends, engaged upon precisely the same service."

"Indeed! And that----?"

"To find the Countess Stranhni at the earliest possible moment."

"And after that?"

"To restore her to her friends."

"You know where she is?"

"No. But I can find her."

It entered Renwick's head at the moment to tell the fellow of the note
in his pocket, but the events of the night had made him careful.

"Who are you?" he asked again.

But the man evaded.

"I beg that you will eat, Herr Renwick," he said coolly. "We have no
time to spare."

And so at last, when Herr Linke ponderously helped himself and the
Hungarian chauffeur from the dish, Renwick followed his lead and ate.

In less than half an hour they were again upon their way, reaching the
hills above the Bosnian capital just before nightfall. Here, for some
reason, the machine again halted with a loud explosion of back-fire and
a prodigious amount of smoke. The chauffeur got out, looked into the
hood and straightened, gesticulating wildly. H