s head sank, and Carl again laid a hand upon his knee in
awkward sympathy.

"Of course, the whole thing came out," he continued. "The servants knew
everything, as they always do, and I had to tell my story at the
inquest. The Baroness braved public opinion for a time, first playing
the innocent and then the martyr; but one day Graf von Hatfeldt called
upon her, and told her a few home truths, and that very night she left
the Schloss. Nobody knows where she went to, unless it's Stapfer. If he
does, he has kept her secret."

Friedrich preserved a silence that disturbed von Sternburg. Carl
crossed his knees uneasily and lighted a cigarette, glancing
occasionally at his friend. Just how deeply this would cut him he had
no means of knowing.

At last von Rittenheim, looking worn but not unhappy, lifted his head.
He rose and walked to the edge of the veranda, and stretched himself as
if to shake off some trammel of thought.

"After we have had luncheon, will you do me a great kindness, Carl?" he
asked. "Will you drive home with me into the country, and spend the
night?"

"My dear fellow, I shall be delighted to do so," cried von Sternburg,
surprised and relieved at this unexpected turn of the conversation.

XXVI

Surrender

Uncle Jimmy lighted the room and took away the tea-equipage, while Mrs.
Carroll established herself with a book before the fire. Hilda and John
arranged the chess-board on a little table near the lamp. The red shade
cast a warm glow over the girl's fairness and gave a look of physical
vigor to her delicate charm. John made his moves with unthinking
swiftness, happy in the sight of her beauty and in the chance touch of
her hand.

In a large chair Sydney lay back languidly, her hands idle upon her
lap. The shock of Bob's death had exhausted her, and she found herself
spent, physically and emotionally. A book lay open upon her knees, but
her eyes closed wearily, or stared unseeing into space. She was
thinking of all that Bob's life had meant to her of companionship and
affection; of the pain that his weakness had brought her, and the pride
that had watched his redemption. She had yearned over him in maternal
tenderness. Yet she knew that she could but have brushed the edges of
his future; that his death at this time saved him from inevitable
sorrow. She sighed as she thought that perhaps he knew now, dear old
Bob, how completely she was able to sympathize with him in the
bitterness of his