And then he heard the boy's voice."Kamerad!" it said. "Kamerad!"And Rowland waited a moment."Hold up your hands."The boy obeyed, whimpering."I do not want to kill my own people," he said."You are sure?""Yes, yes.""Good. Nor do I." And then, after a moment more, "Go thou then and tell them that the roof is cleared."In a moment Rowland had dropped the rifle and joined Tanya by the chimney."You're not hurt?" she whispered in a lull of the storm."No, I think not. And you?"She reassured him quickly."Thank God for that."The rain was still pouring in torrents. Behind them the tumult of the baited crowd, but upon the roof upon which they hid there was no one. The boy had been true to his word.He took the weapon of Herr Förster which he had not had time to draw from his other pocket, picked up the suit-case and looked around."Come," he said. "There must be some way out of this."CHAPTER XIXA SAMARITANBeyond them at one side was another roof, and beyond it again, through the driving storm they could see the chimneys of others. Rowland slid down to the lower level. Tanya handed him the suitcase and in a moment in obedience to his orders she had swung herself over the edge of the eaves and into his arms.But their situation was precarious for the new roof had a deeper pitch and the tiles were loose, but they climbed to its peak, along which they made their way on their hands and knees, Rowland leading and dragging their precious booty toward a group of chimneys fifty or sixty feet beyond, a defensible position should their means of escape be discovered. They reached it at last, their clothes and fingers torn, and halted a moment here, while Rowland reloaded his automatic while he watched the dim profile of the house above them."It was horrible--I can never forget----," Tanya was whispering. "Like rats in a trap. That dreadful man!""I shot. There was nothing else to do. But I could swear I missed him--the uncertain light--the crowd all about----""But he fell--I saw him----""Yes," dubiously, "but they say he has as many lives as a cat. Sh!" he whispered suddenly.They crouched lower in the darkness, while Rowland peered up at the dim shapes along the roof of the building from which they had descended. Two soldiers--for he could see the rifles in their hands--but they looked down upon the sloping roof, exchanged a few words and then, evidently changing their minds, disappeared again. The roar of the storm had now drowned all other sounds, for the shooting had ceased, but a dull glow now appeared defining the window from which they had escaped. The glow was too red for lamp light, and then a smell of smoke was borne down toward them upon the storm. Fire! Rowland pointed and Tanya saw."The lamps," he said. "Unless they put it out it will soon be so light that we can be seen from the street. Risky footing in the dark, but we've got to chance it," he said grimly. "Can you follow?""Try me," she said bravely.He pressed her hand, caught up the suit-case, and they went on, now at a higher elevation, now at a lower one, until Rowland stopped again by another group of chimneys to rest and listen."I don't know how far these roofs go, but there's a river over here somewhere. There's a dormer window just beyond. We can't go much further. We'll have to slip in and take a chance. Are you all right?""Oh, yes."In a lull of the storm they heard loud outcries from the now distant hall. Smoke and sparks were coming from the windows, and at last a tongue of flame shot upward."If we can get down----"But the descent was precarious, for this roof was steeper than the others. In the street below the eaves they now heard the rumble of heavy wheels upon the cobbles, the clang of bells and shouts of excitement."If we can reach the street we might slip away in the confusion," Rowland muttered, and had already begun the dangerous descent to the roof of the dormer window when a word of warning from Tanya made him pause."Someone--is following us," she whispered.Rowland lodged the suit-case in the angle by the chimney and turned, weapon in hand, peering into the darkness. The glow of the sparks and flame from the burning building now shed a faint illumination along the wet roofs and he made out a figure crawling toward them. He waited a moment until the figure reached the gable of the house on which they sat when he lowered his automatic and frowned in uncertainty."I can't make out----" he whispered. And then in a guarded tone, "Who's there?"There was a moment's pause and then a faint voice came to them--a woman's voice."Philippe!"With an exclamation, Rowland slipped the weapon in his pocket and crawled back along the roof."Philippe--thank God!" And then faintly, "You must help me. I--I am--hurt----""Zoya!"He helped her up and along the roof while she clung to him in weakness and in terror, but he managed to reach the safety of the chimneys, where Tanya helped him support her."You are wounded?" he whispered."I saw you go. I tried to follow. Someone shot at me in the dark. I fell.... Then I knew that I--I must go on and--and when the soldiers went--I crept--up--the roof--I don't know how. In the glow of the fire I saw you and--and came. But I am so dizzy----"She stared down into the dark chasms on either side and then her head fell sideways on Tanya's shoulder."She has fainted," muttered Rowland."We must get her down there in some way," said Tanya bravely."Stay where you are. I will see."And putting the suit-case beside him he sat and went carefully down to the roof of the dormer window, where he lodged the suit-case again and then slid down. There was a broad ledge here and he crouched, peering around into the window of the room beneath. It was dark inside but the window was open. There was no time to spare, so, weapon in hand, he entered without ceremony. His matches were wet and he had no means of making a light, but he felt around with his hands and found a door, which he opened cautiously. There was a dim light in the hall and by its light he made out the objects within the shabby room, a trunk, two beds, a bureau and wash-stand. One of the two beds had been occupied and the disorder of the room indicated that it had been suddenly deserted.Rowland scratched his head in a moment of uncertainty, and then closed the door and locked it."Sorry, old top," he muttered, "but our need is greater than yours."As he emerged the flames from the burning building had burst through the roof and the figures of Tanya and Madame Rochal by the chimney were deeply etched in silhouette against the glow of the heavens. The downpour had ceased and only a slight drizzle remained of the storm which had been so friendly to them. Even now, if anyone chose to look upward they could see. And so he crouched and crawled up again."It's got to be managed some way," he muttered to Tanya. "Come."But she shook her head."I will follow," she said firmly. "See, she has revived a little."With words of encouragement they got Madame Rochal upright and the perilous descent began, Rowland with one arm around her, the other hand clinging to a projection of the roof. They moved slowly down, Rowland fearing another fainting spell which might cause her to lose her balance, but the assurance of her companion gave her the use of the last remnants of her strength, and they reached the ledge in safety, where she clung to the woodwork of the window while Rowland entered and then half-dragged, half-lifted her within. He carried her then to the couch upon which he laid her and then returned for Tanya. But just outside the window he met her coming down alone and in a moment had her in his arms and safe with the suit-case within the room.But safe for how long? The security of their hiding place depended upon their unknown host or hostess. What sort of a house was this and who was the occupant of the disordered couch? While Tanya knelt beside Madame Rochal, unfastening her clothing and trying to learn the extent of her injuries, Rowland cautiously unlocked the door and peered out down the stairs. A light burned on a lower floor, showing a shabby hallway with torn wall-paper, a broken chair or two, but no person in sight. Then he made out the sound of voices below, talking excitedly, and he realized that the commotions of the street had entered here. Outside he could still hear the hoarse cries of the men in the street. The story of the raiding of the hall above must now have reached all the neighborhood.Leaving the door open, he returned to the bedside of Zoya Rochal. In this new care so suddenly thrown upon her, Tanya had forgotten her own danger and Rowland's. She had loosened Madame Rochal's clothing, and had found the injury, a flesh wound in the side below the arm-pit.To leave Zoya there--to go down with Tanya and lose themselves in the crowd outside--the thought occurred to Rowland, but when Tanya spoke, he dismissed it."We must do something--make a bandage, get some water, some restoratives," she whispered. "We can't let her die.""But----""We'll be discovered by the one who sleeps here sooner or later. We must take our chances," she said quietly.She shamed him. From what new source had she drawn the moral and physical courage to meet this new test of her womanhood? Even Rowland was weary and anxious, yet here beside him undismayed by her night of terror sat this woman he loved, calmly ministering to one who, though perhaps not her enemy, had tonight been proclaimed of a class beyond the pale of decent women. He could not know that perhaps it was Zoya's very frailty that had given Tanya strength. And yet to know what sort of woman she was he had only to remember Tanya there in the hall of the committee, standing pale but fearless while she defied the terrible von Stromberg. This was the girl who now commanded the situation, the mistress of his will as well as his heart. He wanted to tell her all that he thought of her, to live for another space this one joyous moment of communion, so soon broken; but her tone was urgent. There was nothing but to obey.He had managed at last to find matches and a candle which he lighted and placed upon the dressing stand at the head of the bed."Now," said Tanya, "there must be water in the pitcher--tear the sheet on the other bed for a bandage."He was moving to obey when the door of the room was pushed quietly open and a man carrying a lamp in his hand stood upon the threshhold, gaping with astonishment. He was a very tall man, with a long neck and a face tanned a deep brown which brought into contrast the whiteness of his hair. He was collarless and very shabby, and peered first at Rowland, then at Tanya, and the figure on the bed, as though he couldn't bring himself to believe the evidence of his eyes. But Rowland's quiet tones cut the silence clearly."Come in, please--and shut the door."It was not until then that he saw the weapon in Rowland's hand, started a little,--then obeyed--still silent and not a little perturbed. But to make sure of him Rowland crossed to the door behind him and locked it. Still unable to comprehend, the tall man stared at the dark figure on his bed and at the girl kneeling beside it, for Tanya had turned and was looking up at him in passionate appeal."We escaped over the roofs from the hall--where the fire is," said Rowland quickly. "The woman on the bed has been shot. If you are friendly you will help us. Otherwise----" He frowned and fingered his weapon. suggestively."A friend----yes," said the tall man. "It is horrible, what has happened yonder. I would have gone to help, but the soldiers have cleared the streets. You need have no doubt of me, my friend," he said with a smile. "You may put your weapon away."His voice was deep, resonant and suggestive of a life in the open. He spoke German with a slight Czech accent and even in his shabby surroundings had an air of distinction not to be denied. Now that his astonishment was gone, he went forward and put the lamp on the dressing stand and turned facing Rowland, who had put his pistol into his pocket and was examining their host with growing confidence."The woman there needs attention," said Rowland. "She has bled a great deal--some clean bandages and medicine. Can you get them?""Yes. It is little enough. I will help and thank God for the chance. I have some skill--if you will permit me----"Rowland nodded and Tanya moved aside and took up the lamp as the man knelt beside the bed and bent over the prostrate figure. As Tanya brought the lamp over the bed, she saw him start back and then peer more closely at the features of Madame Rochal."God in Heaven!" his deep tones muttered. "You!"Emotion mastered him and his voice vibrated as he asked,"This woman--how did she come here?""She was a member of the committee which met there. You know what happened--the soldiers came. She was shot in escaping. You know who----?"Their host held up his hand."No matter what I know. But I must save her. I must--must----"With Rowland's help, he turned the injured woman, his long bony fingers quickly exposing the wound. The bullet had entered the side below the arm, and had passed through the muscles at the back."It is not so bad as I supposed," he muttered. "She has lost much blood but the hemorrhage has ceased."He rose and crossed quickly to the washstand and brought a basin full of water and a clean towel."If you will wash the wound, Fräulein, I will get some dry clothing and medicine."Rowland opened the door and their host hurried out, while Tanya obeyed his injunctions."He knew her," said Rowland. "You saw----?""Yes.""What do you make of him?""He has been born to better things--gentle once, gentle always. You need have no fear.""It's of you, Tanya, that I'm thinking. There has been too much----""We are still free," she smiled up at him, "still victorious. I am no weakling, Philippe.""But we are still in great danger. I wouldn't mind taking a chance in the street alone, but with you----""Where would you go?" she asked quietly."To Georg Senf, to Yaeger--to Weiss--to----""To arrest," she said with a smile. "We don't know what has happened. There was fighting--shooting. Georg Senf may be dead. If the streets are cleared the soldiers are in command, that is certain. We can gain nothing by going now.""But they will search this house----""Why? The soldiers were on guard upon the roofs. They missed us in the darkness. Those frightful roofs!" She glanced at Zoya. "How she ever managed to follow us!""Poor Zoya!" he said, and she understood what he meant. And then after a pause, "But we have another duty."Her look questioned."To get out of Germany, with this!" and he kicked the black bag that had been the cause of all their troubles."Yes," she said quietly, with a smile. "Of course. But something will happen to help us. I'm sure of it. Wait."Her courage was of the quiet kind, patient, enduring, and her words reproved the hot impulses that were surging up against his own better judgment. Soft footsteps on the stair outside and the tall man entered again, bringing some clean soft linen, a nightdress, and several bottles. Between them they managed to remove her outer clothing and then Tanya completed the arrangements for her comfort. The stranger set to work at once, silently anointing and bandaging the injury. The sting of the iodine as it entered the wound aroused her and she opened her eyes and looked around the room, meeting Rowland's eyes."Philippe!" she whispered softly.Rowland, holding the lamp, felt rather than saw the slight tilt of Tanya's head upward and noticed the face of the tall man who turned his gaze up to Rowland's in grave inquiry."You are quite safe, Zoya," he found himself saying, "and in good hands. You will sleep now."They gave her an opiate, and, with a weak smile, she obeyed him.The dawn was creeping up over the roof-tops outside and searched the dark shadows of the room. Their host had risen, tall and gaunt, staring down at the woman on the couch. His white hair had deceived them, and in the pale light of day they could see that he was not as old as he had seemed to be, a man not far from forty. The lines in his cheeks were deeply graven as though seared by sudden misfortune, but his somber eyes burned steadily and the smile which parted his lips as he looked at his handiwork was very gentle and very sweet. For the moment, it seemed that he had forgotten Rowland and Tanya--in the spell of some memory that was not all bitterness.The early morning air was chill and for nearly two hours Tanya had sat in her drenched clothing. Her sneeze, which she tried to repress, awoke their host from his revery with a start."Fräulein, I am sorry my poor chamber affords so little of comfort. But you must sleep and have dry clothing. I am afraid, Herr----" he paused."Rowland.""I am afraid, Herr Rowland, that I must take Frau Nisko into our confidence.""Who is Frau Nisko?""The amiable person who lets out these palatial lodgings," he said with a smile and an expressive gesture of the hand. "A compatriot of mine--Bohemian," he explained. "A lover of liberty and a woman to be trusted.""We can pay well for silence.""She is poor--as I am, God knows, but there are some things, Herr Rowland," he finished gently, "that may not be bought with money."Rowland felt the reproof under this strange creature's gentleness, and took him by the hand in token of understanding."You know that I cannot thank you. Necessity knows no law. We are desperate--hunted! And if found will be shot----""They shall not find you--I pledge you my honor. I too owe you something----" his gaze wandered to the figure on the couch. "And perhaps I can pay.""There is then no danger of a search?""I think not. The streets are now cleared. There are soldiers just outside keeping the lodgers in. The scene of the horror is several hundred meters away from here. How you managed to cross the roofs so far--withher----!" And then moving toward the door, "It shall be arranged. There is another room just here in the corridor. I will return."The wounded woman was now sleeping heavily. For the first time since they had left Starnberg See Rowland and Tanya were alone with each other."Are you very tired?" he asked gently as he took her in his arms."A little," she sighed, smiling, "but I'm very happy."He held her more closely. "And I. You've got more sand than any woman I have ever known.""Brave?" she smiled. "I'm afraid--not. I----"Her teeth chattered with the chill and reaction which he knew must come. And suddenly she sank more deeply into the shelter of his arms, her shoulders shaking."Tanya----!"She reassured him with a laugh. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going--to give--way!""Sh--dear. Presently you shall sleep. Tomorrow--today--we shall devise something. You love me?""As much as possible--in--four days,--my Philippe.""I have loved you all my life, Princess Tatyana," he laughed."And yet you--you do not even know my name.""I know what it's going to be.""You have no curiosity?""You're a princess, you said----!"She nodded. "My name is Samarov.""I like Tatyana better.""What does it matter?""Nothing. We have looked death in the eyes, we have won life--together.""God grant that may be true."He kissed her gently and looked at the recumbent figure on the couch."And if they find us here----?" she questioned."We have still this hour----" he whispered.They sprang apart as the tall man entered. He looked at them for a moment in silence and then a smile broke over his gaunt face."So," he said, "I ask pardon. It has been arranged. The room is ready, Fräulein. A night-gown upon the bed. Your clothing shall be dried while you sleep. If Herr Rowland will permit----"He stood beside the door bowing and following the direction of his gesture, Tanya went out into the hallway to the room adjoining, where Frau Nisko was awaiting her. In a moment his host returned and hunted about in the drawers of the old dressing stand."You, too, Herr Rowland--some dry clothes----""I'm dry already. It doesn't matter. To a soldier a little dampness----""A soldier----?""Of the French Legion----""Here!"And briefly Rowland told him of the strange events that had brought him into Germany."The Society of Nemi. I have heard--And you----?""Its leader--but in Germany--merely an American, a spy--rifle-fodder. You understand. I've told you all--because I trust you, Herr----"Rowland paused suggestively, then waited."My name?" the tall man said at last--"I am called Markov. Perhaps you will not believe that I was once a gentleman. But that matters nothing. I was taken ill with tubercular trouble and knew that I must live in the open air." He laughed a little bitterly. "My occupation will amuse you. I travel with a hurdy-gurdy, a piano organ drawn by my excellent Fra Umberto from one end of Germany and Austria to the other.""And who is Fra Umberto?" asked Rowland."A donkey, sir, the best, the only friend I ever had, patient, enduring, honest, amiable, who asks nothing, borrows no money and does what I ask of him without question. What more could one ask of friendship than that?"Rowland laughed."Nothing, God knows. And where is he, your friend?""In the stable nearby, with my precious instrument of torture. The Germans are a musical race. In the cities they chase me away but in the country--all Summer long I gathered in the pfennigs, a harvest which lasts me through the winter--here in this palatial habitation. But I am happy for my trunk is full of books. I read, I study, I dream----"Herr Markov put his hand to his brow, gazed at the silent figure of Zoya Rochal for a moment and then with an abrupt gesture of abnegation, rose and closed the door."I--I am selfish keeping you awake with my story, Herr Rowland. You have been through much. We cannot tell what may come. You must rest. Take off your coat at least--a dry, warm garment--and sleep.""But you--Herr Markov----?""I sleep little. It's a farce even to lie down. I will watch, Herr Rowland." And as the American protested he pushed him gently toward the vacant cot. "It is sometimes occupied by another--but it is quite clean.Bitte, Herr Rowland."And so with a sigh Rowland obeyed. But it was a long while before he slept for the events of the day and night had brought high nervous tension which refused to diminish. But at last, admitting the wisdom of his strange host, Rowland relaxed and closed his eyes. The last waking memory he had was of Markov, sitting in the chair beside Zoya's bed, bending forward intently, like a mother at the bedside of a sick child.CHAPTER XXESCAPERowland slept lightly and was awakened by a sound overhead, a scuffling upon the tiles of the roof. Herr Markov already stood upright by the window, listening. Rowland started, wide awake at once, but a gesture from his host halted him."Under the couch," he whispered, "the covers will hide you."And Rowland obeyed quickly, aware that the sound of shots would soon have the hornets about their ears.Whoever was upon the roof was slowly sliding down to the window. Soldiers! They had followed the wounded Zoya. Even the rain...?He heard Herr Markov's voice out of the window."What the devil do you do up there?"Another voice replied, and then questioned, for he heard Markov's reply."In here? What should anyone do in here?"The other voice came nearer at the window-opening itself--a young voice, sharp, peremptory."What is this house?""A lodging house, Herr Lieutnant. You see--of the poorer class.""Who keeps it?""Frau Nisko, Herr Lieutnant. It is number sixteen.""No one entered by this window last night?""Last night! By this window!" in excellent bewilderment. "No, Herr Lieutnant. That would have been impossible. Besides, you may see for yourself--who would wish to enter here?""Someone may have passed through while you slept.""I was awake all night with my wife yonder, who is very ill of tuberculosis.""Ah--then you are certain?""Positive--but if the Herr Lieutnant will enter----?"Rowland wondered at Herr Markov's temerity--also wondered what he would do if the Herr Lieutnant accepted the invitation. But fortunately the ingenuousness of Herr Markov had stopped the gap. The young officer withdrew and presently they heard his boots scrambling up the tiles overhead."Pfui!" said Markov, wiping the sweat from his brow as Rowland peeped out. "That was a close shave, Herr Rowland. He would have entered if I had not invited him to. Human nature is the great paradox. It always desires that which is denied it and scorns that which is proffered. Had the Herr Lieutnant been older the thing would have been difficult."Rowland crawled out from his place of concealment and examined his host with a new interest--a new respect. An attic philosopher! He grasped Herr Markov by the hand."A friend indeed!" he murmured. "And what would you have done if he had come in."Herr Markov shrugged. "I do not know. Waited, perhaps. He might have gone again." He glanced at Madame Rochal and set his jaws. "My hands are very strong, Herr Rowland. Besides, I have pledged you my word.""It is a fearful danger into which I have brought you----""I have welcomed it--you need not worry.""But if they come again----?""I think they will be satisfied with this. But it will not do to stay here too long. We will see. At present, since you are awake, I will go down and make some inquiries."The sun had been up many hours, a brilliant summer day of blue and gold. Rowland cautiously brought his head up to the level of the window-sill, looking out, but the houses upon the opposite side of the street were small and this window was in no danger of observation. So he straightened and went over to Zoya, for the sound of voices had awakened her and she had turned on her bed. He felt her pulse and at the light touch of his fingers she turned her head and opened her eyes."Ah, Philippe," she sighed gently."You are feeling better?" he asked cheerfully."I--I am not sure," she murmured. "I ache--how I ache--from head to foot--Oh--!" She tried to move her bandaged shoulder and gasped, "I remember--him!""You are quite safe," he said reassuringly, "in the hands of friends.""Safe--no, not safe, Philippe----" she muttered, "not safe whileheis alive.""Who?""Von Stromberg." She started up feverishly. "He fell. But as I went out of the window, I--I saw him rise. It--it is impossible to escape him----"Her voice gained strength and Rowland soothed her gently."You must be quiet, Zoya. They have been here--over the roofs--but they went away again. They won't come back----""But he--he--is--is the devil incarnate----"Her eyes stared at the wall above her--as at a specter of their enemy. The terror of last night had come over her again."Quite so. I agree with you. But I'm no longer alarmed. Why should you be? A swallow of water--and then sleep again, Zoya. You're going to be quite all right.""I was shot----""Through the arm-pit--nothing serious. A few days and----""Whose room is this?" she asked suddenly, looking round at the bare walls and shabby furniture."A friend's. A Samaritan, Zoya. He has nursed you while I slept--a stranger----""Oh," she gave a little shrug and turned her face toward the wall. He poured out a glass of water and brought it to her. She drank it eagerly and then sank back with a sigh."A devil incarnate," she repeated. "And the money----?" she asked suddenly."Here," he laughed. "Like a millstone around my neck.""You have it still--here?""Well, rather. But I wish it were in Jericho.""You are a man,mon Phili----"She had thrown her sound arm impulsively over his, but at a sudden sharp memory she withdrew it and turned her head toward the wall. There was a moment of silence and then he heard her voice, hard, expressionless."I wanted to--to vote as you wished, but--but I betrayed you. His eyes were burning me, his words--scorching--my--my very soul." And then, almost in a whisper, "You heard what he said----""What does it matter now?" he asked softly."He scourged me," she whispered again, "stripped me bare for those animals to look at. If he had killed me--if this shot had been a few inches lower----""But it isn't," said Rowland cheerfully. "Buck up, Zoya. The worst is yet to come. I hoped the old pelican was dead, but we'll outwit him--some way."She turned, smiled feebly and gave him her hand again."You forgive me?" she asked."Forgive--what for? The thing was hopeless from the beginning. I was a fool to try to start anything, but it made me sore--to see the old rooster walk off with this money--under my very eyes--and he hasn't got it yet," he finished boyishly."What are you going to do?"Rowland rose and put the glass on the washstand."I'm going to get out of here if you don't stop talking--at once--or tell your nurse.""My nurse?""The Johnny whose bed you're lying on.He'llmake you keep quiet.""What will he do?""Give you more dope, for one thing----"A knock upon the door, and Tanya, clad in a gray dressing gown much too large for her, entered and came quietly forward. Her glance met Rowland's as she gave him her hand. She looked a little tired but smiled as she knelt beside the bed and took one of Zoya's hands in both of hers."You are better, Madame?" she inquired."I think so. You are very good." The tones were listless--indifferent."We are safe for the present," said Tanya. "The soldiers at the front of the house have been withdrawn.""Who told you this?" asked Rowland quickly."Frau Nisko. She answered all their questions satisfactorily."Zoya Rochal stirred uneasily."Nevertheless," she said hopelessly, "they will find us.""Don't lose courage.""He never fails. I know.""Who?" asked Tanya."Von Stromberg," she muttered. "He sees everything, knows everything. You can't escape."Rowland shrugged."We're at least willing to try. And now you must sleep again, Zoya. Herr Markov----"He paused, for Zoya started at the sound of the name, and just then the door opened and Zoya's gaze turned toward it quickly. He saw her eyes look, then stare, closing perplexedly."She is awake?" Herr Markov asked.At the sound of his voice Zoya moved upon her pillow and opened her eyes again. But their strange host had come forward and laid his hand quietly over hers."It is I, Mariana--Matthias Markov. The good God has sent you to me----""Matthias!" she gasped, still looking at him.He bowed his head gravely and raised her hand to his lips, but at the contact she closed her eyes and lay back, breathing deeply.Tanya had taken Rowland by the hand and led him out of the room into her own."His moment----" she whispered. "Let him have it--with her--alone."There was much to say and in a few words Tanya told him what Frau Nisko had learned about the disastrous results of the riot in the hall. There had been shooting--six men and a woman had been killed, and many wounded and burned in the hall and on the stairs. Four soldiers were dead, amongst them an officer. There had been fighting in the streets but the soldiers, where they could, had permitted many to escape. Order had not been restored until the early hours of the morning, when fresh companies of troops had arrived and were now patrolling the neighborhood."And Von Stromberg----?""No one knows--he has not been seen.""Hochwald----?""He either--Senf, Liederman, Fenner, Weiss--were taken away----""Benz?""I don't know. He may have escaped----"Rowland paced the floor thoughtfully."We can't stay here, Tanya," he said at last."I know----""It means prison or worse for Herr Markov and Frau Nisko. We've got to do something.""But Madame Rochal----"He frowned. "I'm thinking of her. She voted as Von Stromberg wished----"At what a cost!" She hid her face in her hands a moment. "It is horrible to see a soul stripped bare! Poor Zoya!"He was silent a moment, thinking deeply."We must do what is best for the greatest number. If you and I are taken with the money, your work in Germany is finished forever. Don't you see? Our power--our influence, are gone. We must get this money out--some way. If Hochwald has escaped he is probably already on his way to Switzerland. Thedossier--the papers you have----""I had forgotten----""They must go, too----"She thought a moment and then raised her head joyously and laid her hand in his."Whatever you say,monPhilippe," she said bravely.He took her in his arms and kissed her, but she drew away from him quietly."The plan----?" she questioned.He frowned and smiled in the same moment."It requires another--Herr Markov--but it is a brave plan," he laughed, "a wonderful plan. You shall see.""Why can't you tell----?""Because without Herr Markov it fails. He may refuse----""I don't understand--"A woman's curiosity!" he laughed. "Trust me. And wait."At this moment there was a quiet knock upon the door and Frau Nisko entered with Tanya's dry clothing. Rowland was introduced and seized the woman warmly by the hand. But when he tried to thank her she demurred."I was born free, Herr Rowland. I would rather die than believe I shall not be free again.""But we can't endanger you longer--tonight we must go----""They suspect nothing yet. But Matthias Markov is no fool. He will think of something. You do not know Herr Markov----!" she finished quietly."We know only that he is risking his safety and yours for strangers--"It is not the first time. He sets no value on his life." She shrugged. "Nor I on mine. It's a pilgrimage--soon over. His life has not been a happy one--a man of wealth, of family, position--reduced through misfortune, suffering and ill health to take to the roads with a music-box. Herr Gott! And yet he pays his way--always the same, with the courage of a man and the heart of a child. Patience, forgiveness, gentleness. That is Matthias Markov.""But why has he chosen this strange vocation?" asked Rowland.Frau Nisko shrugged her plump shoulders again."He says it is because of his health, because he cannot stay indoors. But I know----"She paused while with intense interest they waited for her to go on."It is not my secret, but you are his friends. His wife deserted him--ran away with another--a beautiful woman--faithless. He searches for her from one end of Europe to the other----"Rowland and Tanya exchanged a quick glance of comprehension. Rowland stepped forward and laid a hand on Frau Nisko's arm."His search is ended, Frau Nisko," he said gently. And then, with a gesture toward the door of Matthias Markov, "He has found her. She is there!"The woman gazed at him uncomprehendingly."Frau Markov!" she whispered."Madame Rochal----""You are sure----?""We left them there--alone."Frau Nisko peered out at the eloquent panels of the closed door and they heard the deep rumble of Herr Markov's voice and Zoya's in a low tone answering him. There could be no doubt about it. Herr Markov's pilgrimage was ended. And Zoya's----? Rowland's lips set in a thin line and his glance and Tanya's met in silent communion.In a moment there was a commotion below and a lodger came up the stairs in some excitement. Frau Nisko went out to meet him. There was a soldier at the door who wished to ask Frau Nisko a few more questions."Very well," she said coolly. "Tell him that I will come down at once," and the lodger departed.She signaled them to follow and silently they reëntered the room of Herr Markov. He was sitting beside Zoya's bed, her hand in both of his, and started to his feet as they entered."Soldiers again, Herr Markov. They may mean to search the house. Herr Rowland and the Fräulein must go in your closet. There is a narrow opening under the eaves at the further end where two boards have been displaced. Enter, and I will hang some clothing before it. We must take the chance. We will leave the door open."Rowland and Tanya obeyed quickly, taking the black bag; Frau Nisko, thrusting Tanya's clothing after them and hiding all traces of their presence. This was the test that Rowland had been expecting and Frau Nisko had met it with a calmness that argued for success. So Rowland and Tanya crawled through the aperture and crouched upon the naked beams of the house in the darkness, listening for the footsteps of the searchers."What shall you do if they find us?" whispered Tanya, her hand in Rowland's."Nothing," he said. "The game is up. I could shoot one man--two perhaps--but not the entire Landwehr. We won't think of that, though. It's devilish black in here--but fearfully cozy."He drew her into his arms and silently they listened to the tramp of heavy boots upon the stair and the sound of gruff voices."A woman ill, you say?""Very ill, of lung trouble, and in high fever. My wife, Herr Lieutnant. I hope you will not find it necessary to disturb her for long." This in Markov's voice, somewhat tremulous in the depth of its appeal."Who are you?""My name is Markov. I was refused for service on account of permanent illness. My papers are here.""Gut!"A silence in which the officer examined them. Then the steps of the officer to and fro in the room."This trunk----""Contains merely some books--Herr Lieutnant.""The closet----?"The officer's steps sounded again nearer them."Merely some old clothes, Herr Lieutnant," said Markov's voice. "Will you enter?"A terrible moment of suspense. But at last the footsteps turned and moved away."And this other room here?" asked the voice. And Frau Nisko replied coolly, "My daughter's. She works in the Kraus Locomotivfabrik.""Ach, so!""And these other rooms?""No one. Search, Herr Lieutnant."And presently they heard the heavy steps go thumping down the stairs. Rowland drew a long breath. It seemed that he had been holding it for hours.This visit was a warning to them all. Rowland and Tanya crawled out of their hole in the wall, somewhat pallid, and covered with dust, but determined that an effort of some sort to escape must be made at once. Herr Markov agreed with them and a council was held. Rowland, who had been doing some serious thinking, at once startled them by revealing what was in his mind."If Herr Markov will sell his donkey and piano-organ," he said, "I will give him ten thousand marks for them."Zoya Rochal turned on her pillow and looked at him curiously, while Frau Nisko threw up her hands and repeated the fabulous sum.But Herr Markov had straightened."So you had thought of that, too, Herr Rowland?""There is nothing else," shrugged Rowland helplessly. "Whatever happens I must get this money through to Switzerland--and in the machine there is perhaps room----""Yes, yes--there is room," said Markov thoughtfully. "We could make room. My poor instrument of torture! And Fra Umberto!""You do not wish to part with them?""It is not that. But I would not sell them, Herr Rowland. What I give, I give,--in the fullness of my heart.""I can't ask more of you. Perhaps it will be but a loan----""Wait----," said Markov, his hand to his brow. "I am thinking." They watched in a moment of silence, when Herr Markov rose and took a pace or two toward the window."Yes. Yes. It could be done. It shall be done. My poor machine! We shall disembowel it--take out all its poor noisy entrails. It can be done in a short while. And the Fräulein shall sit inside, and travel in state to the Swiss border.""A stroke of genius," cried Rowland excitedly. "I hadn't thought of that. And the money----?""A soft cushion of bank notes to sit upon.""Ten thousand marks--a hundred thousand if you will but do it."Matthais Markov looked at him reproachfully."Herr Rowland does not understand," he said gently. "It is not my poverty--but my heart--that consents."Rowland bowed his head and caught Markov by the hand."Forgive me, my friend," he muttered.Markov waved his apologies aside."It shall be done. The Fräulein shall go and----"Zoya gave a hard little laugh."And what becomes of me?" she asked.Markov rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The question it seemed for the moment had stricken him dumb."It will be some days, Zoya," said Rowland quickly, "before you can be moved----""In the meanwhile you will leave me here at the mercy of Baron von Stromberg?" she asked querulously.Frau Nisko looked pained but spoke up bravely: "They have done what they could--you were not recognized----""But ifheshould come----" she shuddered."The chances are one in a hundred----""But that one chance----! It is the one he never neglects."Another silence in which Zoya relaxed again upon her pillow, groaning. Markov crossed to the side of the bed and bent over her."What is it that you wish--Maria----" he paused in a significant confusion, and then finished painfully, calling her by the name they knew--"What can we do--Madame Rochal?"She straightened again and sat up in bed, her eyes flashing feverishly."Who is to stay here with me?" she asked. "Am I to be deserted, flaunted, cast aside into the gutter for my enemy to step upon? Am I no longer of any value--any account in your reckonings?" She laughed hysterically. "Go!" she whispered. "Go! I don't care.""Sh--! Mariana! Sh--! Madame," whispered Markov soothingly. "There is no danger. No one can harm you. Did you not vote as Von Stromberg wished? He can have nothing against you. What can he do? In less than a week I will return----""You!" muttered Frau Nisko.Zoya slowly raised herself on one elbow while Tanya looked at Rowland uncomprehendingly, the nature of the sacrifice Markov was making slowly dawning on her."Who else?" said Markov quietly. "It would be suicide for Herr Rowland. I have my papers. It is simplicity itself. In four days I shall be at Lindenhof. It is a mile from Lindau, on the Bodensee--Lake Constance. The Fräulein and the money shall cross into Switzerland from there at night in a boat. It is a village I know well. It can be arranged. Then I shall return by train to Munich."Tanya had said nothing and her lips were tightly compressed with a meaning that Rowland had learned to understand."And you, Philippe?" she asked quietly."What I have done once before," he murmured soberly, "shall be accomplished again."His look silenced the protest that was rising to her lips. She only clasped her hands nervously a moment, but said nothing."And you will stay here--mon ami, for a few days--until I am better," questioned Zoya eagerly."There's nothing else," he said with a shrug.Pain clutched at the hearts of at least three persons in that room, but Matthias Markov suffered the most. Rowland could see it in the lines of his eyes, which had suddenly made him seem quite old again. The years that had parted Markov and the woman who bore his name had only served to widen the breach between them--a breach that all the love and tenderness in the world from such a man as he could never hope to fill. Even on her bed of pain Zoya remained themondainewhile Matthias Markov, to her at least, was only the hurdy-gurdy man. She had repudiated him, had forbidden him to use her name. It was piteous. But Herr Markov shrugged his lean shoulders and managed a smile for Rowland and Tanya, in which they both read a new meaning of abnegation and sacrifice.Zoya had sunk back upon her pillow, so Herr Markov gave her another opiate and presently she slept. Then while Frau Nisko went down stairs to reassure herself that all was well below, Rowland and Tanya listened to Markov's itinerary between Munich and Lindau. Fra Umberto could travel thirty miles a day if he had to. It was nothing--if the Fräulein would not get tired within the instrument of torture--Landsberg tomorrow night, Memmingen the night after, then Weingarten and Lindenhof--four days at the most. He, Markov, had been over the road often and knew it well. At Lindenhof he had a great friend, a fisherman and a vine-grower named Gratz who lived with his poverty like a prince in the ruined schloss of Kempelstein. There they would go. And there take boat from the very walls of theschlossto Switzerland and freedom.In the meanwhile they must decide upon a simple code of numerals and letters for the telegraph, to be sent to Weingarten in case of important information or warning. When that was arranged, Markov went down stairs to find a screw driver, wrench and hammer to "disembowel" the dear "machine of torture."They followed him out of the room with their glances and then with one accord gazed at the sleeping woman. She lay breathing deeply, one graceful arm under her head and her lips were smiling. Tanya's mood toward her had changed."You saw?" she asked in a whisper. "She repudiated him. She is not worth waiting for." And then impulsively she threw her arms around Rowland's neck, whispering tensely, "Come, Philippe--tonight, with me. He should stay here--it is his place----"Rowland kissed her gently."It would not be safe, dear. You must get through to Switzerland--with the money. Don't make things too hard for me----""Ah, Philippe," she whispered. "I am nothing without you. His papers--a disguise----"But Rowland shook his head."It is dangerous. We should both be lost and that which I came to save. In this way you at least shall get through surely----""But you? We have found life together--I am frightened for you.""Don't worry. I'll pull through--some way.""Come, Philippe," she whispered again. "Life or death--together!"He held her close in his arms, aware that the moment of her weakness should be his for strength, and soothed her gently."This way means life for both of us--success. I am not afraid. I will follow soon. Would you have me less noble than he?" he asked.She was silent and after a while she raised her head and he saw that the moment of her uncertainty had passed."I will go," she murmured, and he kissed away the moisture that had gathered at her eyes before it fell."Princess Tatyana!" he laughed, "if you will only wave your wand--no evil can come to me."
And then he heard the boy's voice.
"Kamerad!" it said. "Kamerad!"
And Rowland waited a moment.
"Hold up your hands."
The boy obeyed, whimpering.
"I do not want to kill my own people," he said.
"You are sure?"
"Yes, yes."
"Good. Nor do I." And then, after a moment more, "Go thou then and tell them that the roof is cleared."
In a moment Rowland had dropped the rifle and joined Tanya by the chimney.
"You're not hurt?" she whispered in a lull of the storm.
"No, I think not. And you?"
She reassured him quickly.
"Thank God for that."
The rain was still pouring in torrents. Behind them the tumult of the baited crowd, but upon the roof upon which they hid there was no one. The boy had been true to his word.
He took the weapon of Herr Förster which he had not had time to draw from his other pocket, picked up the suit-case and looked around.
"Come," he said. "There must be some way out of this."
CHAPTER XIX
A SAMARITAN
Beyond them at one side was another roof, and beyond it again, through the driving storm they could see the chimneys of others. Rowland slid down to the lower level. Tanya handed him the suitcase and in a moment in obedience to his orders she had swung herself over the edge of the eaves and into his arms.
But their situation was precarious for the new roof had a deeper pitch and the tiles were loose, but they climbed to its peak, along which they made their way on their hands and knees, Rowland leading and dragging their precious booty toward a group of chimneys fifty or sixty feet beyond, a defensible position should their means of escape be discovered. They reached it at last, their clothes and fingers torn, and halted a moment here, while Rowland reloaded his automatic while he watched the dim profile of the house above them.
"It was horrible--I can never forget----," Tanya was whispering. "Like rats in a trap. That dreadful man!"
"I shot. There was nothing else to do. But I could swear I missed him--the uncertain light--the crowd all about----"
"But he fell--I saw him----"
"Yes," dubiously, "but they say he has as many lives as a cat. Sh!" he whispered suddenly.
They crouched lower in the darkness, while Rowland peered up at the dim shapes along the roof of the building from which they had descended. Two soldiers--for he could see the rifles in their hands--but they looked down upon the sloping roof, exchanged a few words and then, evidently changing their minds, disappeared again. The roar of the storm had now drowned all other sounds, for the shooting had ceased, but a dull glow now appeared defining the window from which they had escaped. The glow was too red for lamp light, and then a smell of smoke was borne down toward them upon the storm. Fire! Rowland pointed and Tanya saw.
"The lamps," he said. "Unless they put it out it will soon be so light that we can be seen from the street. Risky footing in the dark, but we've got to chance it," he said grimly. "Can you follow?"
"Try me," she said bravely.
He pressed her hand, caught up the suit-case, and they went on, now at a higher elevation, now at a lower one, until Rowland stopped again by another group of chimneys to rest and listen.
"I don't know how far these roofs go, but there's a river over here somewhere. There's a dormer window just beyond. We can't go much further. We'll have to slip in and take a chance. Are you all right?"
"Oh, yes."
In a lull of the storm they heard loud outcries from the now distant hall. Smoke and sparks were coming from the windows, and at last a tongue of flame shot upward.
"If we can get down----"
But the descent was precarious, for this roof was steeper than the others. In the street below the eaves they now heard the rumble of heavy wheels upon the cobbles, the clang of bells and shouts of excitement.
"If we can reach the street we might slip away in the confusion," Rowland muttered, and had already begun the dangerous descent to the roof of the dormer window when a word of warning from Tanya made him pause.
"Someone--is following us," she whispered.
Rowland lodged the suit-case in the angle by the chimney and turned, weapon in hand, peering into the darkness. The glow of the sparks and flame from the burning building now shed a faint illumination along the wet roofs and he made out a figure crawling toward them. He waited a moment until the figure reached the gable of the house on which they sat when he lowered his automatic and frowned in uncertainty.
"I can't make out----" he whispered. And then in a guarded tone, "Who's there?"
There was a moment's pause and then a faint voice came to them--a woman's voice.
"Philippe!"
With an exclamation, Rowland slipped the weapon in his pocket and crawled back along the roof.
"Philippe--thank God!" And then faintly, "You must help me. I--I am--hurt----"
"Zoya!"
He helped her up and along the roof while she clung to him in weakness and in terror, but he managed to reach the safety of the chimneys, where Tanya helped him support her.
"You are wounded?" he whispered.
"I saw you go. I tried to follow. Someone shot at me in the dark. I fell.... Then I knew that I--I must go on and--and when the soldiers went--I crept--up--the roof--I don't know how. In the glow of the fire I saw you and--and came. But I am so dizzy----"
She stared down into the dark chasms on either side and then her head fell sideways on Tanya's shoulder.
"She has fainted," muttered Rowland.
"We must get her down there in some way," said Tanya bravely.
"Stay where you are. I will see."
And putting the suit-case beside him he sat and went carefully down to the roof of the dormer window, where he lodged the suit-case again and then slid down. There was a broad ledge here and he crouched, peering around into the window of the room beneath. It was dark inside but the window was open. There was no time to spare, so, weapon in hand, he entered without ceremony. His matches were wet and he had no means of making a light, but he felt around with his hands and found a door, which he opened cautiously. There was a dim light in the hall and by its light he made out the objects within the shabby room, a trunk, two beds, a bureau and wash-stand. One of the two beds had been occupied and the disorder of the room indicated that it had been suddenly deserted.
Rowland scratched his head in a moment of uncertainty, and then closed the door and locked it.
"Sorry, old top," he muttered, "but our need is greater than yours."
As he emerged the flames from the burning building had burst through the roof and the figures of Tanya and Madame Rochal by the chimney were deeply etched in silhouette against the glow of the heavens. The downpour had ceased and only a slight drizzle remained of the storm which had been so friendly to them. Even now, if anyone chose to look upward they could see. And so he crouched and crawled up again.
"It's got to be managed some way," he muttered to Tanya. "Come."
But she shook her head.
"I will follow," she said firmly. "See, she has revived a little."
With words of encouragement they got Madame Rochal upright and the perilous descent began, Rowland with one arm around her, the other hand clinging to a projection of the roof. They moved slowly down, Rowland fearing another fainting spell which might cause her to lose her balance, but the assurance of her companion gave her the use of the last remnants of her strength, and they reached the ledge in safety, where she clung to the woodwork of the window while Rowland entered and then half-dragged, half-lifted her within. He carried her then to the couch upon which he laid her and then returned for Tanya. But just outside the window he met her coming down alone and in a moment had her in his arms and safe with the suit-case within the room.
But safe for how long? The security of their hiding place depended upon their unknown host or hostess. What sort of a house was this and who was the occupant of the disordered couch? While Tanya knelt beside Madame Rochal, unfastening her clothing and trying to learn the extent of her injuries, Rowland cautiously unlocked the door and peered out down the stairs. A light burned on a lower floor, showing a shabby hallway with torn wall-paper, a broken chair or two, but no person in sight. Then he made out the sound of voices below, talking excitedly, and he realized that the commotions of the street had entered here. Outside he could still hear the hoarse cries of the men in the street. The story of the raiding of the hall above must now have reached all the neighborhood.
Leaving the door open, he returned to the bedside of Zoya Rochal. In this new care so suddenly thrown upon her, Tanya had forgotten her own danger and Rowland's. She had loosened Madame Rochal's clothing, and had found the injury, a flesh wound in the side below the arm-pit.
To leave Zoya there--to go down with Tanya and lose themselves in the crowd outside--the thought occurred to Rowland, but when Tanya spoke, he dismissed it.
"We must do something--make a bandage, get some water, some restoratives," she whispered. "We can't let her die."
"But----"
"We'll be discovered by the one who sleeps here sooner or later. We must take our chances," she said quietly.
She shamed him. From what new source had she drawn the moral and physical courage to meet this new test of her womanhood? Even Rowland was weary and anxious, yet here beside him undismayed by her night of terror sat this woman he loved, calmly ministering to one who, though perhaps not her enemy, had tonight been proclaimed of a class beyond the pale of decent women. He could not know that perhaps it was Zoya's very frailty that had given Tanya strength. And yet to know what sort of woman she was he had only to remember Tanya there in the hall of the committee, standing pale but fearless while she defied the terrible von Stromberg. This was the girl who now commanded the situation, the mistress of his will as well as his heart. He wanted to tell her all that he thought of her, to live for another space this one joyous moment of communion, so soon broken; but her tone was urgent. There was nothing but to obey.
He had managed at last to find matches and a candle which he lighted and placed upon the dressing stand at the head of the bed.
"Now," said Tanya, "there must be water in the pitcher--tear the sheet on the other bed for a bandage."
He was moving to obey when the door of the room was pushed quietly open and a man carrying a lamp in his hand stood upon the threshhold, gaping with astonishment. He was a very tall man, with a long neck and a face tanned a deep brown which brought into contrast the whiteness of his hair. He was collarless and very shabby, and peered first at Rowland, then at Tanya, and the figure on the bed, as though he couldn't bring himself to believe the evidence of his eyes. But Rowland's quiet tones cut the silence clearly.
"Come in, please--and shut the door."
It was not until then that he saw the weapon in Rowland's hand, started a little,--then obeyed--still silent and not a little perturbed. But to make sure of him Rowland crossed to the door behind him and locked it. Still unable to comprehend, the tall man stared at the dark figure on his bed and at the girl kneeling beside it, for Tanya had turned and was looking up at him in passionate appeal.
"We escaped over the roofs from the hall--where the fire is," said Rowland quickly. "The woman on the bed has been shot. If you are friendly you will help us. Otherwise----" He frowned and fingered his weapon. suggestively.
"A friend----yes," said the tall man. "It is horrible, what has happened yonder. I would have gone to help, but the soldiers have cleared the streets. You need have no doubt of me, my friend," he said with a smile. "You may put your weapon away."
His voice was deep, resonant and suggestive of a life in the open. He spoke German with a slight Czech accent and even in his shabby surroundings had an air of distinction not to be denied. Now that his astonishment was gone, he went forward and put the lamp on the dressing stand and turned facing Rowland, who had put his pistol into his pocket and was examining their host with growing confidence.
"The woman there needs attention," said Rowland. "She has bled a great deal--some clean bandages and medicine. Can you get them?"
"Yes. It is little enough. I will help and thank God for the chance. I have some skill--if you will permit me----"
Rowland nodded and Tanya moved aside and took up the lamp as the man knelt beside the bed and bent over the prostrate figure. As Tanya brought the lamp over the bed, she saw him start back and then peer more closely at the features of Madame Rochal.
"God in Heaven!" his deep tones muttered. "You!"
Emotion mastered him and his voice vibrated as he asked,
"This woman--how did she come here?"
"She was a member of the committee which met there. You know what happened--the soldiers came. She was shot in escaping. You know who----?"
Their host held up his hand.
"No matter what I know. But I must save her. I must--must----"
With Rowland's help, he turned the injured woman, his long bony fingers quickly exposing the wound. The bullet had entered the side below the arm, and had passed through the muscles at the back.
"It is not so bad as I supposed," he muttered. "She has lost much blood but the hemorrhage has ceased."
He rose and crossed quickly to the washstand and brought a basin full of water and a clean towel.
"If you will wash the wound, Fräulein, I will get some dry clothing and medicine."
Rowland opened the door and their host hurried out, while Tanya obeyed his injunctions.
"He knew her," said Rowland. "You saw----?"
"Yes."
"What do you make of him?"
"He has been born to better things--gentle once, gentle always. You need have no fear."
"It's of you, Tanya, that I'm thinking. There has been too much----"
"We are still free," she smiled up at him, "still victorious. I am no weakling, Philippe."
"But we are still in great danger. I wouldn't mind taking a chance in the street alone, but with you----"
"Where would you go?" she asked quietly.
"To Georg Senf, to Yaeger--to Weiss--to----"
"To arrest," she said with a smile. "We don't know what has happened. There was fighting--shooting. Georg Senf may be dead. If the streets are cleared the soldiers are in command, that is certain. We can gain nothing by going now."
"But they will search this house----"
"Why? The soldiers were on guard upon the roofs. They missed us in the darkness. Those frightful roofs!" She glanced at Zoya. "How she ever managed to follow us!"
"Poor Zoya!" he said, and she understood what he meant. And then after a pause, "But we have another duty."
Her look questioned.
"To get out of Germany, with this!" and he kicked the black bag that had been the cause of all their troubles.
"Yes," she said quietly, with a smile. "Of course. But something will happen to help us. I'm sure of it. Wait."
Her courage was of the quiet kind, patient, enduring, and her words reproved the hot impulses that were surging up against his own better judgment. Soft footsteps on the stair outside and the tall man entered again, bringing some clean soft linen, a nightdress, and several bottles. Between them they managed to remove her outer clothing and then Tanya completed the arrangements for her comfort. The stranger set to work at once, silently anointing and bandaging the injury. The sting of the iodine as it entered the wound aroused her and she opened her eyes and looked around the room, meeting Rowland's eyes.
"Philippe!" she whispered softly.
Rowland, holding the lamp, felt rather than saw the slight tilt of Tanya's head upward and noticed the face of the tall man who turned his gaze up to Rowland's in grave inquiry.
"You are quite safe, Zoya," he found himself saying, "and in good hands. You will sleep now."
They gave her an opiate, and, with a weak smile, she obeyed him.
The dawn was creeping up over the roof-tops outside and searched the dark shadows of the room. Their host had risen, tall and gaunt, staring down at the woman on the couch. His white hair had deceived them, and in the pale light of day they could see that he was not as old as he had seemed to be, a man not far from forty. The lines in his cheeks were deeply graven as though seared by sudden misfortune, but his somber eyes burned steadily and the smile which parted his lips as he looked at his handiwork was very gentle and very sweet. For the moment, it seemed that he had forgotten Rowland and Tanya--in the spell of some memory that was not all bitterness.
The early morning air was chill and for nearly two hours Tanya had sat in her drenched clothing. Her sneeze, which she tried to repress, awoke their host from his revery with a start.
"Fräulein, I am sorry my poor chamber affords so little of comfort. But you must sleep and have dry clothing. I am afraid, Herr----" he paused.
"Rowland."
"I am afraid, Herr Rowland, that I must take Frau Nisko into our confidence."
"Who is Frau Nisko?"
"The amiable person who lets out these palatial lodgings," he said with a smile and an expressive gesture of the hand. "A compatriot of mine--Bohemian," he explained. "A lover of liberty and a woman to be trusted."
"We can pay well for silence."
"She is poor--as I am, God knows, but there are some things, Herr Rowland," he finished gently, "that may not be bought with money."
Rowland felt the reproof under this strange creature's gentleness, and took him by the hand in token of understanding.
"You know that I cannot thank you. Necessity knows no law. We are desperate--hunted! And if found will be shot----"
"They shall not find you--I pledge you my honor. I too owe you something----" his gaze wandered to the figure on the couch. "And perhaps I can pay."
"There is then no danger of a search?"
"I think not. The streets are now cleared. There are soldiers just outside keeping the lodgers in. The scene of the horror is several hundred meters away from here. How you managed to cross the roofs so far--withher----!" And then moving toward the door, "It shall be arranged. There is another room just here in the corridor. I will return."
The wounded woman was now sleeping heavily. For the first time since they had left Starnberg See Rowland and Tanya were alone with each other.
"Are you very tired?" he asked gently as he took her in his arms.
"A little," she sighed, smiling, "but I'm very happy."
He held her more closely. "And I. You've got more sand than any woman I have ever known."
"Brave?" she smiled. "I'm afraid--not. I----"
Her teeth chattered with the chill and reaction which he knew must come. And suddenly she sank more deeply into the shelter of his arms, her shoulders shaking.
"Tanya----!"
She reassured him with a laugh. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going--to give--way!"
"Sh--dear. Presently you shall sleep. Tomorrow--today--we shall devise something. You love me?"
"As much as possible--in--four days,--my Philippe."
"I have loved you all my life, Princess Tatyana," he laughed.
"And yet you--you do not even know my name."
"I know what it's going to be."
"You have no curiosity?"
"You're a princess, you said----!"
She nodded. "My name is Samarov."
"I like Tatyana better."
"What does it matter?"
"Nothing. We have looked death in the eyes, we have won life--together."
"God grant that may be true."
He kissed her gently and looked at the recumbent figure on the couch.
"And if they find us here----?" she questioned.
"We have still this hour----" he whispered.
They sprang apart as the tall man entered. He looked at them for a moment in silence and then a smile broke over his gaunt face.
"So," he said, "I ask pardon. It has been arranged. The room is ready, Fräulein. A night-gown upon the bed. Your clothing shall be dried while you sleep. If Herr Rowland will permit----"
He stood beside the door bowing and following the direction of his gesture, Tanya went out into the hallway to the room adjoining, where Frau Nisko was awaiting her. In a moment his host returned and hunted about in the drawers of the old dressing stand.
"You, too, Herr Rowland--some dry clothes----"
"I'm dry already. It doesn't matter. To a soldier a little dampness----"
"A soldier----?"
"Of the French Legion----"
"Here!"
And briefly Rowland told him of the strange events that had brought him into Germany.
"The Society of Nemi. I have heard--And you----?"
"Its leader--but in Germany--merely an American, a spy--rifle-fodder. You understand. I've told you all--because I trust you, Herr----"
Rowland paused suggestively, then waited.
"My name?" the tall man said at last--"I am called Markov. Perhaps you will not believe that I was once a gentleman. But that matters nothing. I was taken ill with tubercular trouble and knew that I must live in the open air." He laughed a little bitterly. "My occupation will amuse you. I travel with a hurdy-gurdy, a piano organ drawn by my excellent Fra Umberto from one end of Germany and Austria to the other."
"And who is Fra Umberto?" asked Rowland.
"A donkey, sir, the best, the only friend I ever had, patient, enduring, honest, amiable, who asks nothing, borrows no money and does what I ask of him without question. What more could one ask of friendship than that?"
Rowland laughed.
"Nothing, God knows. And where is he, your friend?"
"In the stable nearby, with my precious instrument of torture. The Germans are a musical race. In the cities they chase me away but in the country--all Summer long I gathered in the pfennigs, a harvest which lasts me through the winter--here in this palatial habitation. But I am happy for my trunk is full of books. I read, I study, I dream----"
Herr Markov put his hand to his brow, gazed at the silent figure of Zoya Rochal for a moment and then with an abrupt gesture of abnegation, rose and closed the door.
"I--I am selfish keeping you awake with my story, Herr Rowland. You have been through much. We cannot tell what may come. You must rest. Take off your coat at least--a dry, warm garment--and sleep."
"But you--Herr Markov----?"
"I sleep little. It's a farce even to lie down. I will watch, Herr Rowland." And as the American protested he pushed him gently toward the vacant cot. "It is sometimes occupied by another--but it is quite clean.Bitte, Herr Rowland."
And so with a sigh Rowland obeyed. But it was a long while before he slept for the events of the day and night had brought high nervous tension which refused to diminish. But at last, admitting the wisdom of his strange host, Rowland relaxed and closed his eyes. The last waking memory he had was of Markov, sitting in the chair beside Zoya's bed, bending forward intently, like a mother at the bedside of a sick child.
CHAPTER XX
ESCAPE
Rowland slept lightly and was awakened by a sound overhead, a scuffling upon the tiles of the roof. Herr Markov already stood upright by the window, listening. Rowland started, wide awake at once, but a gesture from his host halted him.
"Under the couch," he whispered, "the covers will hide you."
And Rowland obeyed quickly, aware that the sound of shots would soon have the hornets about their ears.
Whoever was upon the roof was slowly sliding down to the window. Soldiers! They had followed the wounded Zoya. Even the rain...?
He heard Herr Markov's voice out of the window.
"What the devil do you do up there?"
Another voice replied, and then questioned, for he heard Markov's reply.
"In here? What should anyone do in here?"
The other voice came nearer at the window-opening itself--a young voice, sharp, peremptory.
"What is this house?"
"A lodging house, Herr Lieutnant. You see--of the poorer class."
"Who keeps it?"
"Frau Nisko, Herr Lieutnant. It is number sixteen."
"No one entered by this window last night?"
"Last night! By this window!" in excellent bewilderment. "No, Herr Lieutnant. That would have been impossible. Besides, you may see for yourself--who would wish to enter here?"
"Someone may have passed through while you slept."
"I was awake all night with my wife yonder, who is very ill of tuberculosis."
"Ah--then you are certain?"
"Positive--but if the Herr Lieutnant will enter----?"
Rowland wondered at Herr Markov's temerity--also wondered what he would do if the Herr Lieutnant accepted the invitation. But fortunately the ingenuousness of Herr Markov had stopped the gap. The young officer withdrew and presently they heard his boots scrambling up the tiles overhead.
"Pfui!" said Markov, wiping the sweat from his brow as Rowland peeped out. "That was a close shave, Herr Rowland. He would have entered if I had not invited him to. Human nature is the great paradox. It always desires that which is denied it and scorns that which is proffered. Had the Herr Lieutnant been older the thing would have been difficult."
Rowland crawled out from his place of concealment and examined his host with a new interest--a new respect. An attic philosopher! He grasped Herr Markov by the hand.
"A friend indeed!" he murmured. "And what would you have done if he had come in."
Herr Markov shrugged. "I do not know. Waited, perhaps. He might have gone again." He glanced at Madame Rochal and set his jaws. "My hands are very strong, Herr Rowland. Besides, I have pledged you my word."
"It is a fearful danger into which I have brought you----"
"I have welcomed it--you need not worry."
"But if they come again----?"
"I think they will be satisfied with this. But it will not do to stay here too long. We will see. At present, since you are awake, I will go down and make some inquiries."
The sun had been up many hours, a brilliant summer day of blue and gold. Rowland cautiously brought his head up to the level of the window-sill, looking out, but the houses upon the opposite side of the street were small and this window was in no danger of observation. So he straightened and went over to Zoya, for the sound of voices had awakened her and she had turned on her bed. He felt her pulse and at the light touch of his fingers she turned her head and opened her eyes.
"Ah, Philippe," she sighed gently.
"You are feeling better?" he asked cheerfully.
"I--I am not sure," she murmured. "I ache--how I ache--from head to foot--Oh--!" She tried to move her bandaged shoulder and gasped, "I remember--him!"
"You are quite safe," he said reassuringly, "in the hands of friends."
"Safe--no, not safe, Philippe----" she muttered, "not safe whileheis alive."
"Who?"
"Von Stromberg." She started up feverishly. "He fell. But as I went out of the window, I--I saw him rise. It--it is impossible to escape him----"
Her voice gained strength and Rowland soothed her gently.
"You must be quiet, Zoya. They have been here--over the roofs--but they went away again. They won't come back----"
"But he--he--is--is the devil incarnate----"
Her eyes stared at the wall above her--as at a specter of their enemy. The terror of last night had come over her again.
"Quite so. I agree with you. But I'm no longer alarmed. Why should you be? A swallow of water--and then sleep again, Zoya. You're going to be quite all right."
"I was shot----"
"Through the arm-pit--nothing serious. A few days and----"
"Whose room is this?" she asked suddenly, looking round at the bare walls and shabby furniture.
"A friend's. A Samaritan, Zoya. He has nursed you while I slept--a stranger----"
"Oh," she gave a little shrug and turned her face toward the wall. He poured out a glass of water and brought it to her. She drank it eagerly and then sank back with a sigh.
"A devil incarnate," she repeated. "And the money----?" she asked suddenly.
"Here," he laughed. "Like a millstone around my neck."
"You have it still--here?"
"Well, rather. But I wish it were in Jericho."
"You are a man,mon Phili----"
She had thrown her sound arm impulsively over his, but at a sudden sharp memory she withdrew it and turned her head toward the wall. There was a moment of silence and then he heard her voice, hard, expressionless.
"I wanted to--to vote as you wished, but--but I betrayed you. His eyes were burning me, his words--scorching--my--my very soul." And then, almost in a whisper, "You heard what he said----"
"What does it matter now?" he asked softly.
"He scourged me," she whispered again, "stripped me bare for those animals to look at. If he had killed me--if this shot had been a few inches lower----"
"But it isn't," said Rowland cheerfully. "Buck up, Zoya. The worst is yet to come. I hoped the old pelican was dead, but we'll outwit him--some way."
She turned, smiled feebly and gave him her hand again.
"You forgive me?" she asked.
"Forgive--what for? The thing was hopeless from the beginning. I was a fool to try to start anything, but it made me sore--to see the old rooster walk off with this money--under my very eyes--and he hasn't got it yet," he finished boyishly.
"What are you going to do?"
Rowland rose and put the glass on the washstand.
"I'm going to get out of here if you don't stop talking--at once--or tell your nurse."
"My nurse?"
"The Johnny whose bed you're lying on.He'llmake you keep quiet."
"What will he do?"
"Give you more dope, for one thing----"
A knock upon the door, and Tanya, clad in a gray dressing gown much too large for her, entered and came quietly forward. Her glance met Rowland's as she gave him her hand. She looked a little tired but smiled as she knelt beside the bed and took one of Zoya's hands in both of hers.
"You are better, Madame?" she inquired.
"I think so. You are very good." The tones were listless--indifferent.
"We are safe for the present," said Tanya. "The soldiers at the front of the house have been withdrawn."
"Who told you this?" asked Rowland quickly.
"Frau Nisko. She answered all their questions satisfactorily."
Zoya Rochal stirred uneasily.
"Nevertheless," she said hopelessly, "they will find us."
"Don't lose courage."
"He never fails. I know."
"Who?" asked Tanya.
"Von Stromberg," she muttered. "He sees everything, knows everything. You can't escape."
Rowland shrugged.
"We're at least willing to try. And now you must sleep again, Zoya. Herr Markov----"
He paused, for Zoya started at the sound of the name, and just then the door opened and Zoya's gaze turned toward it quickly. He saw her eyes look, then stare, closing perplexedly.
"She is awake?" Herr Markov asked.
At the sound of his voice Zoya moved upon her pillow and opened her eyes again. But their strange host had come forward and laid his hand quietly over hers.
"It is I, Mariana--Matthias Markov. The good God has sent you to me----"
"Matthias!" she gasped, still looking at him.
He bowed his head gravely and raised her hand to his lips, but at the contact she closed her eyes and lay back, breathing deeply.
Tanya had taken Rowland by the hand and led him out of the room into her own.
"His moment----" she whispered. "Let him have it--with her--alone."
There was much to say and in a few words Tanya told him what Frau Nisko had learned about the disastrous results of the riot in the hall. There had been shooting--six men and a woman had been killed, and many wounded and burned in the hall and on the stairs. Four soldiers were dead, amongst them an officer. There had been fighting in the streets but the soldiers, where they could, had permitted many to escape. Order had not been restored until the early hours of the morning, when fresh companies of troops had arrived and were now patrolling the neighborhood.
"And Von Stromberg----?"
"No one knows--he has not been seen."
"Hochwald----?"
"He either--Senf, Liederman, Fenner, Weiss--were taken away----"
"Benz?"
"I don't know. He may have escaped----"
Rowland paced the floor thoughtfully.
"We can't stay here, Tanya," he said at last.
"I know----"
"It means prison or worse for Herr Markov and Frau Nisko. We've got to do something."
"But Madame Rochal----"
He frowned. "I'm thinking of her. She voted as Von Stromberg wished----
"At what a cost!" She hid her face in her hands a moment. "It is horrible to see a soul stripped bare! Poor Zoya!"
He was silent a moment, thinking deeply.
"We must do what is best for the greatest number. If you and I are taken with the money, your work in Germany is finished forever. Don't you see? Our power--our influence, are gone. We must get this money out--some way. If Hochwald has escaped he is probably already on his way to Switzerland. Thedossier--the papers you have----"
"I had forgotten----"
"They must go, too----"
She thought a moment and then raised her head joyously and laid her hand in his.
"Whatever you say,monPhilippe," she said bravely.
He took her in his arms and kissed her, but she drew away from him quietly.
"The plan----?" she questioned.
He frowned and smiled in the same moment.
"It requires another--Herr Markov--but it is a brave plan," he laughed, "a wonderful plan. You shall see."
"Why can't you tell----?"
"Because without Herr Markov it fails. He may refuse----"
"I don't understand--
"A woman's curiosity!" he laughed. "Trust me. And wait."
At this moment there was a quiet knock upon the door and Frau Nisko entered with Tanya's dry clothing. Rowland was introduced and seized the woman warmly by the hand. But when he tried to thank her she demurred.
"I was born free, Herr Rowland. I would rather die than believe I shall not be free again."
"But we can't endanger you longer--tonight we must go----"
"They suspect nothing yet. But Matthias Markov is no fool. He will think of something. You do not know Herr Markov----!" she finished quietly.
"We know only that he is risking his safety and yours for strangers--
"It is not the first time. He sets no value on his life." She shrugged. "Nor I on mine. It's a pilgrimage--soon over. His life has not been a happy one--a man of wealth, of family, position--reduced through misfortune, suffering and ill health to take to the roads with a music-box. Herr Gott! And yet he pays his way--always the same, with the courage of a man and the heart of a child. Patience, forgiveness, gentleness. That is Matthias Markov."
"But why has he chosen this strange vocation?" asked Rowland.
Frau Nisko shrugged her plump shoulders again.
"He says it is because of his health, because he cannot stay indoors. But I know----"
She paused while with intense interest they waited for her to go on.
"It is not my secret, but you are his friends. His wife deserted him--ran away with another--a beautiful woman--faithless. He searches for her from one end of Europe to the other----"
Rowland and Tanya exchanged a quick glance of comprehension. Rowland stepped forward and laid a hand on Frau Nisko's arm.
"His search is ended, Frau Nisko," he said gently. And then, with a gesture toward the door of Matthias Markov, "He has found her. She is there!"
The woman gazed at him uncomprehendingly.
"Frau Markov!" she whispered.
"Madame Rochal----"
"You are sure----?"
"We left them there--alone."
Frau Nisko peered out at the eloquent panels of the closed door and they heard the deep rumble of Herr Markov's voice and Zoya's in a low tone answering him. There could be no doubt about it. Herr Markov's pilgrimage was ended. And Zoya's----? Rowland's lips set in a thin line and his glance and Tanya's met in silent communion.
In a moment there was a commotion below and a lodger came up the stairs in some excitement. Frau Nisko went out to meet him. There was a soldier at the door who wished to ask Frau Nisko a few more questions.
"Very well," she said coolly. "Tell him that I will come down at once," and the lodger departed.
She signaled them to follow and silently they reëntered the room of Herr Markov. He was sitting beside Zoya's bed, her hand in both of his, and started to his feet as they entered.
"Soldiers again, Herr Markov. They may mean to search the house. Herr Rowland and the Fräulein must go in your closet. There is a narrow opening under the eaves at the further end where two boards have been displaced. Enter, and I will hang some clothing before it. We must take the chance. We will leave the door open."
Rowland and Tanya obeyed quickly, taking the black bag; Frau Nisko, thrusting Tanya's clothing after them and hiding all traces of their presence. This was the test that Rowland had been expecting and Frau Nisko had met it with a calmness that argued for success. So Rowland and Tanya crawled through the aperture and crouched upon the naked beams of the house in the darkness, listening for the footsteps of the searchers.
"What shall you do if they find us?" whispered Tanya, her hand in Rowland's.
"Nothing," he said. "The game is up. I could shoot one man--two perhaps--but not the entire Landwehr. We won't think of that, though. It's devilish black in here--but fearfully cozy."
He drew her into his arms and silently they listened to the tramp of heavy boots upon the stair and the sound of gruff voices.
"A woman ill, you say?"
"Very ill, of lung trouble, and in high fever. My wife, Herr Lieutnant. I hope you will not find it necessary to disturb her for long." This in Markov's voice, somewhat tremulous in the depth of its appeal.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Markov. I was refused for service on account of permanent illness. My papers are here."
"Gut!"
A silence in which the officer examined them. Then the steps of the officer to and fro in the room.
"This trunk----"
"Contains merely some books--Herr Lieutnant."
"The closet----?"
The officer's steps sounded again nearer them.
"Merely some old clothes, Herr Lieutnant," said Markov's voice. "Will you enter?"
A terrible moment of suspense. But at last the footsteps turned and moved away.
"And this other room here?" asked the voice. And Frau Nisko replied coolly, "My daughter's. She works in the Kraus Locomotivfabrik."
"Ach, so!"
"And these other rooms?"
"No one. Search, Herr Lieutnant."
And presently they heard the heavy steps go thumping down the stairs. Rowland drew a long breath. It seemed that he had been holding it for hours.
This visit was a warning to them all. Rowland and Tanya crawled out of their hole in the wall, somewhat pallid, and covered with dust, but determined that an effort of some sort to escape must be made at once. Herr Markov agreed with them and a council was held. Rowland, who had been doing some serious thinking, at once startled them by revealing what was in his mind.
"If Herr Markov will sell his donkey and piano-organ," he said, "I will give him ten thousand marks for them."
Zoya Rochal turned on her pillow and looked at him curiously, while Frau Nisko threw up her hands and repeated the fabulous sum.
But Herr Markov had straightened.
"So you had thought of that, too, Herr Rowland?"
"There is nothing else," shrugged Rowland helplessly. "Whatever happens I must get this money through to Switzerland--and in the machine there is perhaps room----"
"Yes, yes--there is room," said Markov thoughtfully. "We could make room. My poor instrument of torture! And Fra Umberto!"
"You do not wish to part with them?"
"It is not that. But I would not sell them, Herr Rowland. What I give, I give,--in the fullness of my heart."
"I can't ask more of you. Perhaps it will be but a loan----"
"Wait----," said Markov, his hand to his brow. "I am thinking." They watched in a moment of silence, when Herr Markov rose and took a pace or two toward the window.
"Yes. Yes. It could be done. It shall be done. My poor machine! We shall disembowel it--take out all its poor noisy entrails. It can be done in a short while. And the Fräulein shall sit inside, and travel in state to the Swiss border."
"A stroke of genius," cried Rowland excitedly. "I hadn't thought of that. And the money----?"
"A soft cushion of bank notes to sit upon."
"Ten thousand marks--a hundred thousand if you will but do it."
Matthais Markov looked at him reproachfully.
"Herr Rowland does not understand," he said gently. "It is not my poverty--but my heart--that consents."
Rowland bowed his head and caught Markov by the hand.
"Forgive me, my friend," he muttered.
Markov waved his apologies aside.
"It shall be done. The Fräulein shall go and----"
Zoya gave a hard little laugh.
"And what becomes of me?" she asked.
Markov rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The question it seemed for the moment had stricken him dumb.
"It will be some days, Zoya," said Rowland quickly, "before you can be moved----"
"In the meanwhile you will leave me here at the mercy of Baron von Stromberg?" she asked querulously.
Frau Nisko looked pained but spoke up bravely: "They have done what they could--you were not recognized----"
"But ifheshould come----" she shuddered.
"The chances are one in a hundred----"
"But that one chance----! It is the one he never neglects."
Another silence in which Zoya relaxed again upon her pillow, groaning. Markov crossed to the side of the bed and bent over her.
"What is it that you wish--Maria----" he paused in a significant confusion, and then finished painfully, calling her by the name they knew--"What can we do--Madame Rochal?"
She straightened again and sat up in bed, her eyes flashing feverishly.
"Who is to stay here with me?" she asked. "Am I to be deserted, flaunted, cast aside into the gutter for my enemy to step upon? Am I no longer of any value--any account in your reckonings?" She laughed hysterically. "Go!" she whispered. "Go! I don't care."
"Sh--! Mariana! Sh--! Madame," whispered Markov soothingly. "There is no danger. No one can harm you. Did you not vote as Von Stromberg wished? He can have nothing against you. What can he do? In less than a week I will return----"
"You!" muttered Frau Nisko.
Zoya slowly raised herself on one elbow while Tanya looked at Rowland uncomprehendingly, the nature of the sacrifice Markov was making slowly dawning on her.
"Who else?" said Markov quietly. "It would be suicide for Herr Rowland. I have my papers. It is simplicity itself. In four days I shall be at Lindenhof. It is a mile from Lindau, on the Bodensee--Lake Constance. The Fräulein and the money shall cross into Switzerland from there at night in a boat. It is a village I know well. It can be arranged. Then I shall return by train to Munich."
Tanya had said nothing and her lips were tightly compressed with a meaning that Rowland had learned to understand.
"And you, Philippe?" she asked quietly.
"What I have done once before," he murmured soberly, "shall be accomplished again."
His look silenced the protest that was rising to her lips. She only clasped her hands nervously a moment, but said nothing.
"And you will stay here--mon ami, for a few days--until I am better," questioned Zoya eagerly.
"There's nothing else," he said with a shrug.
Pain clutched at the hearts of at least three persons in that room, but Matthias Markov suffered the most. Rowland could see it in the lines of his eyes, which had suddenly made him seem quite old again. The years that had parted Markov and the woman who bore his name had only served to widen the breach between them--a breach that all the love and tenderness in the world from such a man as he could never hope to fill. Even on her bed of pain Zoya remained themondainewhile Matthias Markov, to her at least, was only the hurdy-gurdy man. She had repudiated him, had forbidden him to use her name. It was piteous. But Herr Markov shrugged his lean shoulders and managed a smile for Rowland and Tanya, in which they both read a new meaning of abnegation and sacrifice.
Zoya had sunk back upon her pillow, so Herr Markov gave her another opiate and presently she slept. Then while Frau Nisko went down stairs to reassure herself that all was well below, Rowland and Tanya listened to Markov's itinerary between Munich and Lindau. Fra Umberto could travel thirty miles a day if he had to. It was nothing--if the Fräulein would not get tired within the instrument of torture--Landsberg tomorrow night, Memmingen the night after, then Weingarten and Lindenhof--four days at the most. He, Markov, had been over the road often and knew it well. At Lindenhof he had a great friend, a fisherman and a vine-grower named Gratz who lived with his poverty like a prince in the ruined schloss of Kempelstein. There they would go. And there take boat from the very walls of theschlossto Switzerland and freedom.
In the meanwhile they must decide upon a simple code of numerals and letters for the telegraph, to be sent to Weingarten in case of important information or warning. When that was arranged, Markov went down stairs to find a screw driver, wrench and hammer to "disembowel" the dear "machine of torture."
They followed him out of the room with their glances and then with one accord gazed at the sleeping woman. She lay breathing deeply, one graceful arm under her head and her lips were smiling. Tanya's mood toward her had changed.
"You saw?" she asked in a whisper. "She repudiated him. She is not worth waiting for." And then impulsively she threw her arms around Rowland's neck, whispering tensely, "Come, Philippe--tonight, with me. He should stay here--it is his place----"
Rowland kissed her gently.
"It would not be safe, dear. You must get through to Switzerland--with the money. Don't make things too hard for me----"
"Ah, Philippe," she whispered. "I am nothing without you. His papers--a disguise----"
But Rowland shook his head.
"It is dangerous. We should both be lost and that which I came to save. In this way you at least shall get through surely----"
"But you? We have found life together--I am frightened for you."
"Don't worry. I'll pull through--some way."
"Come, Philippe," she whispered again. "Life or death--together!"
He held her close in his arms, aware that the moment of her weakness should be his for strength, and soothed her gently.
"This way means life for both of us--success. I am not afraid. I will follow soon. Would you have me less noble than he?" he asked.
She was silent and after a while she raised her head and he saw that the moment of her uncertainty had passed.
"I will go," she murmured, and he kissed away the moisture that had gathered at her eyes before it fell.
"Princess Tatyana!" he laughed, "if you will only wave your wand--no evil can come to me."