The Secret Witness. Gibbs George

the man in the Norfolk jacket was seated beside her, the chauffeur had thrown in the gears, and the machine was moving swiftly upon its way. She sank back into the comfortable cushions with a sigh of satisfaction which did not escape her companion.

      "It was fortunate that I should have been in this neighborhood," he said with a strange smile. It was not until then that she noticed the slightly thick accents with which he spoke and she glanced at his profile hurriedly. His nose was aquiline and well cut, but the suggestion of his nationality was elusive. In spite of his evident gentility, his good looks, his courtesy and his friendship with Hugh Renwick, Marishka now had her first belated instinct that all was not as it should be. The man beside her looked past the chauffeur down the road ahead, turning one or two glances over his shoulder into the cloud of dust behind them. She noticed now that the car had not gone in the direction of the village, but had reached the country road which led to the west and was moving at a high speed which seemed to take the waiting Renwick little into consideration. All the windows of the car were closed, and she had a sense of being restrained—suffocated. For a while she did not dare to give her thoughts utterance, but as the car reached the Prague highroad and turned to the right, she started and turned in alarm to the man beside her.

      "You told me that Herr Renwick was waiting for us just beyond the village. Where is–?"

      The question trembled and died on her lips for the eyes of the man beside her answered before it was asked.

      "I regret," he said evenly, "that there is no time to wait for Herr Renwick."

      "You—you have–" she stammered helplessly.

      "I beg that the Countess Strahni will not be unduly disturbed."

      "Where are we going? This is the road to Prague. Tell me where you are taking me. I insist–"

      He smiled at her again, but did not reply.

      Marishka was now really alarmed and looked out of the closed windows at the flying hedgerows in desperation, wondering what she must do and trying to think how this dreadful mishap had befallen her. Hugh Renwick—his note to her—this stranger with the remarkable eyes who always smiled! Where was the missing link—what the deduction? But it was no time in which to lose one's courage. She turned toward the man beside her who was regarding her calmly.

      "Who are you?" she asked.

      His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked past her out of the window. Then he said politely:

      "The Countess Strahni is well within her rights in asking that question. I am Captain Leo Goritz."

      That meant nothing to her and she found herself repeating her question.

      He deliberated a moment.

      "I see no reason why I should not tell you," he said at last. "I do not desire a misconception of my personal motives—which I beg you to understand are of the highest. I am merely carrying out my orders to bring the Countess Strahni with all dispatch within the borders of the German Empire."

      "You—you are–" she paused in dismay.

      "Of the German Imperial Secret Service," he said quickly.

      Marishka sank back into her seat breathless with apprehension, the warnings of the hated Herr Windt dinning in her ears.

      "Then you sent–" She fingered the scribbled note which had not left her fingers.

      "I regret, Countess, that the situation made deception necessary. One of my men in the tree above the chimney. My orders were urgent."

      Marishka glanced about the machine helplessly, her thoughts, in spite of herself, recurring to Hugh Renwick, who must before long discover her absence and guess its cause. But there seemed no chance of escape. To open the door and leap forth into the road at this speed was only courting injury, and the calm appearance of Captain Leo Goritz seemed only the mask for a resoluteness of purpose with which she could not dare to cope. To cry out seemed equally futile for the road was deserted except for a few market wagons, the occupants of which were country louts who only stared dully as they passed. But in a flash the inspiration came to her. Germany! Germany could help her carry out her purpose to warn the Duchess before she reached Sarajevo. She glanced at her companion and found that his brown eyes had turned as though by prescience to hers.

      "Captain Goritz," she stammered, "I—I seem to be in your power. Whatever your authority for this—this restraint of my liberty—I submit myself–"

      He showed his fine teeth in a smile.

      "I regret that the Countess Strahni should have been put to this inconvenience."

      She made a motion of deprecation.

      "I beg that you will spare yourself meaningless civilities. I do not know the meaning of this outrage."

      "The Countess Strahni is far too clever to suppose that I can believe her–" he put in quickly.

      "What do you mean?"

      "Merely that an intelligence which can throw central Europe into a turmoil," and he laughed pleasantly, "does itself and me too little credit."

      "Oh, you know–" she gasped.

      "Yes, I know."

      She examined Captain Goritz with a new interest.

      "But you did not know the object of my visit to Konopisht," she went on desperately.

      "I confess," he said slowly, "that your sudden departure from Vienna was most mystifying–"

      "I will tell you," she went on excitedly. "I came to Konopisht to warn the Archduke Franz of a plot to assassinate him when he reaches Sarajevo–"

      "Ah! So that–" Captain Goritz started suddenly forward in his seat and faced her eagerly in an attitude of sudden alertness.