concealing her interest and curiosity when he turned toward her again,
she smiled at him brightly.

"You are now getting much stronger, Herr Twenty-Eight," she said. "The
Head Surgeon has given permission for your examination."

"Examination?"

"A magistrate will come tomorrow to take your deposition."

"I don't understand."

"About all the facts connected with your injuries."

"They have learned nothing?"

"A little. The man who was found with you has been identified."

"Ah!"

"As Nicholas Szarvas, a Hungarian police officer----"

"Szarvas!"

"You knew him?"

The patient was silent again. She had come suddenly upon the stone wall
which had balked all her efforts. Her hand was near him upon the bed. He
took it and pressed it to his lips.

"Do not think me ungrateful for all your kindnesses, Fraeulein. Some day
perhaps I can repay you. But there are reasons why I cannot speak."

She drew her hand away from him slowly.

"But you must speak when the magistrate questions," she said gently.

"Perhaps!" And he was silent again.

With his growing strength had come wariness. If England declared war,
he, Hugh Renwick, at present unknown, would be interned, a prisoner; and
all hope of finding Marishka and the German, Goritz, would be lost. In
the first few days of his awakening, he had thought of sending for
Warwick, the British Consul, and putting the matter entirely in his
hands. But before he had had the strength to decide what it was best to
do, had come the declarations of war, and he had determined to remain
silent and act upon his own initiative. Unless he had muttered something
of his past in his fever, and this he doubted, or some sign of it would
have come from Fraeulein Roth, there would he no means of identifying him
as an Englishman, and when he recovered, they would let him go. As it
was, he was a man of mystery, and as such he intended to remain. He had
noted the marks of interest in the face of the nurse, and in her
questions, and his gratitude to her was very genuine, but he was sure
now that he was in no position to take chances. War being declared,
Warwick would have been given his passports, and would have left the
country. No one in Sarajevo knew the Englishman, Renwick--at least no
one who would be likely to connect the man of mystery of the Landes
Hospital with the former secretary of the British Embassy in Vienna.

As his mind had grown clearer, the wisdom of his decision became more