In her flight from the cabin in the Archduke's woods, the Countess Strahni crept along in the shadow of the hedge which bordered the orchard, and reached the gate of the garden. She had seen the watcher in the orchard pacing to and fro, and, awaiting the moment when his back should be turned, she hurried swiftly on to the shelter of the garden wall, once within which, she thought that she would be safe from detection by the men of Herr Windt. She waited for a moment at the gate to be sure that the man near the cabin had not observed her, and noted, through the foliage, that he had not moved. Then summoning her courage, she crossed the garden boldly in the direction of the arbor—the fateful arbor of Austria's betrayal—and her own. In the path beyond it Hugh Renwick would be awaiting her—Renwick, the imperturbable, the persistent, the—the despicable. Yes, she was quite sure that she despised him, in spite of all his efforts on her behalf, so the thought that she was once more to be beholden to him in this hapless quest gave her a long moment of uncertainty as she reached the arbor. She paused within the structure, wondering whether, now that she had succeeded in eluding Herr Windt, it would not be better to flee into the castle, and enlist the aid of the servants in behalf of their master and mistress. She had even taken a few steps toward the tennis court, when she remembered—the telegraph in the hands of Austrian officials who had their instructions! That way was hopeless. The Archduke's chamberlain had, of course, gone south, and in the castle, beside the house-servants, there would have remained only the English governess, the children, and the housekeeper. There could be little help expected from them—only bewilderment, horror, or perhaps incredulity. She must go on to Herr Renwick, continue the impossible situation between them, hide her exasperation in a studied politeness, and trust implicitly, as she had done before, to his undoubted desire to retrieve his lost standing.

She turned into the path which led from the arbor, and hurried through into the narrow path which led to the hidden gate beyond. Just here where the foliage was thickest, and not twenty yards from the spot where she and Hugh Renwick had listened to the pact of Konopisht, a figure stood bowing. She had been so intent upon seeing the Englishman that it was a full moment before she recovered from the shock of her surprise. The man before her was tall, with good shoulders, and wore a brown Norfolk jacket and a soft hat. His eyes were dark and as he smiled they wrinkled very pleasantly at the corners.

Marishka halted and stared at him uncertainly.

"I beg your pardon," she said. "I came here to meet——" She paused, for the thought suddenly entered her head that this perhaps might be another of the men sent to detain her. But in a moment she realized her mistake. The air with which the man swept off his hat and bowed convinced her that he was a gentleman and his manner put her at once at her ease.

"Herr Renwick," he said, with a smile, "has gone on to make some arrangements for your comfort. He has asked me to conduct you to the automobile, and will join us beyond the village."

An automobile! There would still be time, perhaps, to reach Vienna before the archducal party should leave for Bosnia.

"Oh, of course," gasped Marishka thankfully.

"If you will come this way, Countess——" he said, with something of an air. He bowed, but kept his gaze fixed upon hers. There was something very remarkable about this man's eyes—she could not tell just what it was—but they held her for a second, held her motionless until the hand which held his hat gestured for her to pass on. She took the walk before him, descended the steps which led to the lower path where he hurried forward and opened the door in the wall.

Even now, no notion entered her head that this polite person was other than he represented himself to be. And the well equipped machine which stood in the road outside the wall only caused her a momentary thrill of joy at the opportunity which placed the means of their escape so readily at the hand of the now really admirable Herr Renwick. As she paused again for a moment, her companion threw open the door of the limousine, and lightly touched her elbow.

"If the Countess Strahni will enter——" he said quietly. "There is little time to lose."

Marishka obeyed and in a moment 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.

"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.

"A plot! Serbian?" he asked sharply.

"No—I——" Loyalty stifled her lips.

"I see." And then keenly, "Austrian—as a result of your disclosures to the Emperor?"

She eyed the man in amazement. He was omniscient.

"A plot——" she stammered. "I do not know—I came to warn them—the Archduke and Duchess, but I was prevented from doing so. They——" she gasped again—"those who plan this dastardly thing are powerful—they control the telegraph. There was no way to reach them and so I came——"

"Herr Windt——?"

She nodded. "You know—he acts for them. He kept me in the cabin until it was too late."

"I understand——" He nodded, his brows tangled in thought. "There can be no other explanation."

"I heard. I saw—back there in the garden—Emperor and Archduke—friends. Oh, don't you understand? He would do something——"

Captain Goritz had sunk lower into his seat and with folded arms was gazing at the back of the man in front of them, but under his frowning brows his eyes glowed with initiative.

"What you tell me is serious, Countess——" he muttered.

"So serious that I beg you will listen to me," she went on almost hysterically. "The Duchess was my friend—I heard and I told what I heard——"

"Yes. It is a pity, Countess Strahni."

"But I did not know," she went on breathlessly, conscious only of the imminence of Sarajevo and of the power of the man beside her perhaps to aid her. "I could not know that I should be betraying her—the friend of a lifetime—to this—I did my duty as I saw it—to Austria. I am telling you this—a stranger—an enemy perhaps—because it is in your power to help—to prevent this terrible thing. Think! Think! It is your duty as well as mine—your duty to the one who shares with Franz Ferdinand the secret of the rose garden—his friend, and if God so wills—his ally. It is all so terrible—so bewildering. But you must see that I am in earnest—that I am speaking the truth."

"Yes, yes," he said abstractedly, nodding, and then was silent, while the machine went thundering northward, every moment taking them further from Marishka's goal. She watched his face anxiously for a sign. His eyes glowed somberly but he did not more or glance aside. His problem, it appeared, was as deep as hers. For an age, he sat there like a stone figure, but she had the instinct not to speak, and after a while he straightened, leaned quickly forward and threw down the window in front of them.

"What is the village before us, Karl?" he asked in quick tones.

"Beneschau, Herr Hauptmann."

"There is a road to BrÜnn?"

"Yes, a fair one, Herr Hauptmann."

"Take it—and faster."

That was all. Marishka knew that she had won. Captain Goritz was frowning at the dial of his watch.

"Perhaps we are too late—but we can at least try," he muttered.

"Whatever your mission with regard to me—that is unimportant—beside this other duty——"

"Yes, yes. We shall need you. If you could reach the Duchess personally——"

"She will listen. I have known her all my life."

"Good. We must succeed." And then, figuring to himself. "BrÜnn—one hundred kilometers—Vienna seventy more—five hours—six perhaps. They may not leave Vienna at once——"

"The German Ambassador——" she suggested.

"Of course." And then, turning suddenly toward her, his eyes intent, he said, with great seriousness: "Countess Strahni, for the moment your interests and mine are identical. The success of this project depends upon your silence——"

"Anything——!"

"One moment, please," he put in quickly. "I wish you to understand the seriousness of your position. Your security, your safety now and later, will depend upon your own actions. You have proved yourself politically dangerous to the peace—to the welfare of Europe. My mission was to bring you safely into Germany. Failing in that, I must exact absolute silence and obedience——"

"Yes——"

"You travel as my wife, the wife of a German officer going to Vienna for medical advice——"

She flinched a little, but his air of abstraction reassured her.

"Do you agree?"

"Yes."

"You have friends in Vienna. You must not see them. Have I your word?"

"I have no wish but to help you."

He examined her keenly.

"I regret that the terms of our contract must be more explicit."

"In what?"

"I exact your word of honor to remain under my orders, to make no attempt to escape, to speak no word as to my identity or your own——"

"Have I not told you that my own fate is unimportant if I succeed in reaching the Duchess of Hohenberg?"

"And after that?" he asked keenly.

"What do you mean?"

"Merely that the same conditions as to yourself shall continue to exist."

Marishka hesitated. What lay before her? It was incredible that harm could come to one of her condition at the hands of the servants of a great and Christian nation like Germany. She glanced at Captain Goritz. He was still examining her gravely, impersonally. There seemed little doubt as to the genuineness of his intentions.

"And the alternative?" she asked.

His expression changed and he looked slowly away from her at the flying landscape. "I regret that you are still oblivious to your danger. You and one other person in Europe were the witnesses to the meeting at Konopisht. His Majesty's government does not deem it expedient at this time that you should be at liberty to discuss the matter——"

"But I have already spoken——"

"That matters nothing if the witnesses are eliminated."

His tones were quiet, but there was no doubt as to his meaning and she started back from him in dismay.

"You mean that you would——"

She halted again, wordless.

"Political secrets are dangerous—their possessors a menace."

"You—you would destroy——?" she gasped.

"The evidence!" he finished.

His voice was firm, his lips compressed, and he would not look at her. But she was still incredulous. Civility such as his and violence such as he suggested were incongruous. She took refuge from her terror in a laugh.

"You are trying to—to frighten me," she stammered.

"If you are frightened, I am sorry. You are in no danger, if you will do what I ask. I shall spare no courtesy, neglect no pains for your comfort."

"Thanks. That is kind of you. You will gorge the goose that it may be the more palatable."

He gave a slight shrug.

"I am but doing my duty. In my position, Countess, one is but a piece of thinking machinery."

"Yet it has been said that even machinery has a soul."

He glanced around at her quickly, but she was looking straight before her at the narrow ribbon of road which whirled toward them. She was very handsome, this dark-haired prisoner of his, and the personal note that had fallen into her speech made their relations at once more easy and more difficult.

"I regret," he said coolly, "that my orders have been explicit. I still demand that you comply with the conditions I have imposed. Your word of honor—it is enough."

She paused for a long moment—debating her chances. She was selling her liberty—bartering it with a word—for Sophie Chotek. This was her atonement, and if she failed, her sacrifice would be in vain.

She took a surreptitious glance at the profile of Captain Goritz. A part of the great machine that the world calling Germany he might be, but she read something in his looks which gave her an idea that he might be something more than a cog between the wheels.

Some feminine instinct in her, aroused by his impassive performance of his duty, gave her new courage. Since they were at war, she would play the game using women's weapons. After all, he was a man, a mere man.

When she spoke, it was with the air of calm resolution with which one faces heavy odds.

"I am in your power," she said quietly. "I give my word of honor to do as you wish."

And as his gaze dwelt for a moment upon her face—

"I shall not break it, Captain Goritz."

"Good!" he said, with an air of satisfaction. "Now we understand each other."

Meanwhile the machine went thundering on, the man at the wheel driving with a skill which excited admiration. At times the speed of the car seemed frightful, for it swerved dangerously at the frequent turns in the road, but Marishka clung desperately to the arm-rest to save herself from being thrown into the arms of Captain Goritz, aware of her impotence, but conscious, too, of a sense of exhilaration in the wildness of their pace, which seemed at any moment likely to throw both the car and its occupants into the ditch. Her companion made no effort to resume the conversation and only sat staring forth watching the villages through which they passed, his brows deeply thoughtful.