oid her. But the
only turning he could take was that leading to the corner of Kotzebue
Street, and Martin was at the other end of it, coming towards him.
Cartoner was thus caught in the narrow alley. Wanda sat still and
watched the two men. She suddenly knew in advance what would happen, as
it is often vouchsafed to the human understanding to know at a moment's
notice what is coming; and she had a strange, discomforting sense that
these minutes were preordained--that Martin and Cartoner and herself
were mere puppets in the hands of Fate, and must say and do that which
has been assigned to them in an unalterable scheme of succeeding events.

She watched the two men meet and shake hands, in the English fashion,
without raising their hats. She could see Cartoner's movements to
continue his way, and Martin's detaining hand slipped within the
Englishman's arm.

"What does it matter?" Martin was saying. "There is no one to see us
here, at this hour in the morning. We are quite safe. There is Wanda,
sitting on the seat, waiting for me. Come back with me."

And Wanda could divine the words easily enough from her brother's
attitude and gestures. It ought to have surprised her that Cartoner
yielded, for it was unlike him. He was so much stronger than Martin--so
determined, so unyielding. And yet she felt no surprise when he turned
and came towards her with Martin's hand still within his arm. She knew
that it was written that he must come; divined vaguely that he had
something to say to her which it was safer to say than to leave to be
silently understood and perhaps misunderstood. She gave an impatient
sigh. She had always ruled her father and brother and the Palace Bukaty,
and this sense of powerlessness was new to her.

While they approached, Martin continued to talk in his eager, laughing
way, and Cartoner smiled slowly as he listened.

"I saw you," he said to Wanda, as he took off his hat, "and went the
other way to avoid you."

And, having made this plain statement, he stood silently looking at
her. He looked into her eyes, and she met his odd, direct gaze without
embarrassment.

"Cartoner and I," Prince Martin hastened to explain, "travelled from
Berlin together, and we agreed then that, much as we might desire it, it
would be inconvenient for me to show him that attention which one would
naturally want to show to an Englishman travelling in Poland. That is
why he went the other way when he saw you."

Wanda looked