Herr Benz introduced him quickly to a man young Benz had brought with him.
"This is the Government telegraph officer at Starnberg station-but a friend, Herr Rowland. He brings you a message from Georg Senf."
"A message-!"
"I know nothing of this matter," said the man in uniform. "The message was in cipher. It is this: 'Herr Berghof was murdered this afternoon. No clues. No trace of bag.'"
Berghof murdered! Rowland questioned the man eagerly.
"At what time did this message arrive?"
"Less than half an hour ago."
"It came by private code?"
"Yes, from Herr Weiss."
"I see. I owe you many thanks."
"I would do more if I could. But I must return at once."
"Go then. You will be on duty later?"
"Until morning, Herr Rowland."
"Good. I may have a message to send."
The man bowed and departed with the younger Benz, while Rowland watched them in silence until their figures were merged into the night.
Berghof murdered! By whom? And why? The answers to these questions were obvious if he chose to follow the train of thought that was uppermost in his mind. Had Hochwald killed him? Or Förster? or another agent of von Stromberg? The motive one of two things, to secure the black bag filled with the bank notes which Berghof had taken, or to silence a tongue which had already spoken too much. Or perhaps both. Whatever the facts, the death of the man with the squint was eloquent of the fact that Rowland had not been far wrong in his deductions. Herr Berghof had paid the penalty-either of cupidity or disloyalty to those who employed him. In any event it was clear that if the black bag had ever been in his possession it had now passed to a confederate-or to Gregory Hochwald! And therefore if-
A warning sound from Herr Benz brought his speculations to a close for from within the grounds they had just left came the sound of an approaching motor car.
"It must have been hidden in the porte-cochère," Benz was muttering. "I did not see it."
As the machine approached, they walked toward it and it passed them at a rapid rate going in the direction of the village. Just one glimpse they had of the occupants, a chauffeur and a man wearing a cap, sitting in the shadow of the curtains in the tonneau and smoking a cigarette. Who was he? It was impossible to tell. But to Rowland's keen eyes the figure seemed strangely like that of Herr Hochwald.
Imagination? Perhaps. Rowland's interest in the villa Monteori was now such that he was ready to think anything that would confirm his growing belief that here was the prison of Tanya Korasov. Herr Benz too shared his excitement. Herr Hochwald hurrying to the Committee meeting he had called! The thing hung together. There were few enough motor cars in the Empire, and all those not in use by officials of Munich had been put into requisition for military purposes. There was but one machine in Starnberg, an ancient affair which could only be hired at a price beyond the means of any but the most wealthy of the town. He had seen a machine this afternoon rapidly passing his bakery which was on the highway to Munich-was it this very machine? It had a top like this, a chauffeur and one man sat within. He had commented upon its passage to his boy. The young fellow, who shared the mystery of their search, now voluntarily cleared their minds of doubt, for with that omniscience in all things which pertain to makes of cars, he ventured in a guarded tone-
"It is the very machine which came from Munich this afternoon."
"How do you know?" asked Rowland, eagerly.
"It's a Mercedes, sir," he said. "I know it by the shape of the hood."
If a machine went back and forth between the Villa Monteori and the city of Munich it was doubtless because of urgent affairs in which some official empowered to use automobiles was involved. Who but Hochwald? And what affairs, unless those of Tanya and the black bag of the Bayrischer Hof? Rowland had reached the point where he felt that he must leap at a conclusion of some sort. At any rate there were two men the less at the Villa Monteori and it was time to risk everything in an effort to bring this adventure to a conclusion whether in failure or success.
Rowland planned rapidly. A short distance below them there was a cross road which led down to the lake, at the foot of which in the dusk of the evening he had noticed a small pier or jetty near which a number of canoes, sailboats and row-boats were moored. He proposed to take one of these boats and under cover of the darkness, row down in the shadow of the bank to the stone steps of the villa which led from the terrace wall to the water. As the sky had now become cloudy and the night quite dark it would thus be possible to come unnoticed much nearer to the house than if he attempted to enter by the road or to cross the lawns where the stone wall must be climbed. Herr Benz would wait in the Pavilion which seemed to be deserted. If Rowland did not return before ten o'clock he was to take another row-boat with the other two men whom young Benz had gone to fetch from Starnberg and follow.
Benz demurred at first, professing a desire to share his dangers, but at last consented to the arrangement, and Rowland embarked and set off upon his solitary venture. As it was still early there were many young people out on the lake in canoes and sailboats returning to shore and the sounds of their voices came softly across the water.
Their presence in the neighborhood was reassuring and likely to distract the attention of any visitors at the Villa Monteori. Rowland slipped slowly down under the very shadow of the terrace wall where his boat drifted in close to the steps where Rowland listened for a long moment, and then fastened the painter to a ring in the wall and disembarked.
He had determined to enter this house and search it from top to bottom, regardless of consequences. A fool's errand? Perhaps; for he had little evidence to confirm his theory which after all had been born more of hope and desperation than any proof. And yet the chance was worth taking for at the best it meant merely a discussion with an irascible and asthmatic watchman; at the worst perhaps an encounter with a government official who had a private commission, with which he could have no concern, and this meant a rapid retreat and the saving of his skin. But the death of Berghof and the passage of the mysterious automobile from what was reported to be an untenanted house, had seemed to point him a way which he couldn't ignore. If Tanya were here the element of surprise would be in his favor, and as his head reached the level of the top of the steps, where he paused for a long moment of inspection of the house, he saw no indication of watchfulness on the part of those within. There were a rustic table and a number of benches and chairs upon the terrace, and crawling up on his hands and knees he hid himself behind a bench where he could examine the lower floor of the house at closer quarters.
There was a loggia enclosed in glass just before him. Within, in the main body of the house, a light was burning. At some risk of detection from the windows above he moved closer and quickly rising, turned the knob of the glass door. To his surprise it yielded and without hesitation he entered, closing it softly behind him.
"Careless beggars, to forget there was a lake," he muttered.
Rowland's spirits were fast rising, and his fingers were itching for a grip on something tangible, preferably the Adam's apple of Khodkine-Hochwald. Denied that, anyone else's would do. But a disappointment awaited him here, for the door to the main body of the house was locked. He drew aside into the shelter of the wall and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Not so dull, after all," he said to himself. "But I'll make it, if it takes the butt of an automatic."
Fortunately he was not obliged to resort to that extremity for a French window with a loose catch rewarded his patience.
"It's flat burglary, nothing less," he said with a grin as he crossed the sill and entered the room. It was quite dark here, the only illumination coming from a lamp in an inner room, and he paused a moment to get his bearings and listened. A sound of voices somewhere upstairs. His breath came a little more quickly-the deep bass of a man and he was sure the tones of a feminine reply. Taglitz and his daughter? He would soon find out. It took him a few moments of noiseless investigation to study the plan of the lower floor, the location of the steps which led upstairs and the hall which led to the rear of the house. Then he peered into the lighted room beyond.
It was empty and upon the table lay what remained of a meal, the dishes of which had not yet been cleared away. At the further end of the room was a swinging door which led to the kitchen and Rowland crossed to it, in accordance with a quickly formulated plan to make safe the lower floor, before he went upstairs. But just as he was about to go forward there were sounds of heavy footsteps in the kitchen passage just beyond and he had barely time to flatten himself against the wall when the door was pushed open and a man entered and walked to the table. He was an old man, with bent shoulders, possibly a little deaf, and his breath wheezed like that of a horse with the heaves. It seemed a shame to do it, but there was no time for moral compunctions and stepping quickly behind him Rowland thrust an arm around the fellow's neck and with a knee in the small of his back garrotted him noiselessly and effectually. Then he laid the man upon the floor and with a warning hand on his throat, which he threatened to tighten at the least indication of an outcry, questioned in tense whispers.
"Herr Hochwald left this house half an hour ago?"
There was no reply but a terrible gasp as Taglitz fought for his breath.
"Answer me," growled Rowland with an air of ferocity he was far from feeling. "Answer me, or I'll choke-"
Taglitz raised a feeble hand and tried to move his head, gasping horribly meanwhile.
So Rowland waited an anxious moment fearing that the fellow would die. Then questioned again-
"Where has Herr Hochwald gone?"
Taglitz shook his head.
"I-I-don't-know," he gasped.
Rowland could have shouted for joy. Hochwald!
"Where is your daughter?"
"Gone out-since supper-to visit in Starnberg."
"Who are upstairs?"
The eyes of Taglitz stared, and beneath him, Rowland could feel the man's limbs trembling in terror. But he wouldn't reply, so Rowland's fingers closed gently upon his throat.
"Answer me," he whispered, "or I'll choke you."
Already Taglitz's eyes were starting from his head and Rowland released the pressure.
"Answer," he said sternly.
Taglitz gasped for a few moments of fearful unhappiness then, as Rowland's fingers tightened, held up a feeble hand.
"Who are upstairs?" repeated Rowland.
"Herr-Herr Förster-"
"Who else?"
"Fräulein Korasov."
"At what time did Herr Hochwald reach here?"
"Be-fore supper."
"How long before supper?"
Taglitz paused and Rowland's hand moved toward him.
"An hour," he answered.
Rowland's brain was now acting quickly.
"What did he do with the black bag he brought?"
"I-I don't know."
Rowland's eyes sparkled.
"Did he carry it upstairs?"
The terror in the man's eyes was pitiful and the trembling began anew but Rowland was merciless.
"Answer me." Again the hand threatened.
"Don't-strangle me. I will tell," and as Rowland released him. "He took it to his room."
"Where is his room?"
"In the wing to the south."
The room which Rowland had been watching when he lay below the rock an hour ago-the shadow had been Hochwald's!
Rowland grinned at the frightened face beneath him while he reached for a napkin upon the table.
"You're a brick, Herr Taglitz," he muttered in English. "That's what you are-a brick. But bricks are silent-and harmless-unless in riotous hands."
"What are-are you" – croaked the prisoner.
The words were stifled by the napkin which Rowland thrust into his mouth. It was a large napkin and the ends tied firmly at the neck and chin made a neat gag. The two other napkins, one around his knees, the other at his elbows behind him completed Rowland's purpose, which was to render one hundred and sixty pounds of potential Prussianism as helpless as Rameses the Second. He rolled Taglitz under the table, assuring himself that the man was in no danger of death, then searched the lower floor for signs of other occupants. But the man had spoken the truth for there was no one else upon the lower floor.
CHAPTER XVI
RESCUE
With a heart beating high Rowland paused at the bottom of the flight of stairs to listen. A man's laugh-Herr Förster's, and in the room with him, Tanya!
This task was to be more difficult and Rowland felt rather pleased that it was to be so, for the impotent old man underneath the dining room table was already weighing on his conscience. Up the stairs he climbed, but he drew his automatic now for no matter what happened he was going to reduce the chances of failure to a minimum.
Again Förster's voice and Tanya's in reply. As his eyes reached the level of the floor he saw the line of light beneath a door upon his left and climbed quickly, approaching the door silently, upon tip-toe. Here he stopped to listen again for a moment while he planned what to do. If the door was locked he would perhaps have to find some other way to get in. Another door from an adjoining room-
But Förster's voice now came to him clearly.
"The Fräulein is unkind. Is it my fault that I am set to guard you? I am only doing my duty."
Then Tanya's voice-a voice he recognized instantly, subdued but angry.
"Your duty may be performed outside. I have no means of escape."
"My orders are strict, Fräulein. Until the return of Herr Hochwald I was not to let you out of my sight, which is gladdened by your beauty. Why so unkind? I must obey."
"I pray you to leave me," came her voice wearily. "I am very tired."
"I am sorry. I pray you lie upon the divan, while with your permission I will smoke a cigarette at the window. No? Then I will sit and again feast my sight upon your loveliness."
"You are a beast-!" said Tanya.
Rowland turned the knob furiously, the door yielded to his foot and flew open with a crash. He sought and found Förster's eyes, covering him with his weapon. The surprise was complete. The man's hands went up above his head as his startled glance searched the obscurity of the doorway behind Rowland as though expecting others, then, seeing no one, his right hand went down to his pocket.
"Hände Hoch!" Rowland roared the warning, then fired, as Förster's weapon came into line, fired quickly, once, twice, three times. He felt the cap twitched around on his head, but saw Förster's weapon falter and the bullet crash into the mirror beside him, as the man reeled and then toppled sideways upon the couch, rolling over and down upon the floor, where he lay motionless.
Rowland then turned toward the girl who had risen from her chair and now stood clinging to the table looking at him wide-eyed. She was very white and her lips moved but made no sound, and then he realized that the clothing he wore had effectively disguised him. So he took off his cap and smiled at her cheerfully enough. He saw the recognition spread upon her face as she came forward, both arms extended.
"You, Monsieur Rowlan'!" she whispered in French.
"Tanya!"
Their fingers touched-their hands-and then a stronger impulse urged as he saw the look in the eyes turned up to his. She faltered a moment but he caught her close to him and held her there. If this was the sanctuary she had awaited she had surely found it.
"Tanya," he was whispering. "I've found you. Won't you tell me that you are glad?"
She moved a little in his arms, but he only held her closer.
"Glad. Yes, Monsieur Rowlan', I'm glad," she murmured. "But at first I could not believe-"
"What does it matter so long as I've found you? Your heart, Tanya-have I found that too?"
She made no sound, but her head sank a little lower on his breast. The tip of one ear only was visible in the confusion of her ruddy hair. He kissed it.
"Answer me, Tanya," he insisted. "Your heart. It's that I've come for. Will you give it to me?"
He felt her fingers press his own, felt her slender figure relax in his arms, as she raised her head, while her grave eyes met his in one luminous moment and then were hidden by the long lashes under which two small tears trembled and fell.
"My heart," he heard her whisper. "That is yours also, Monsieur Rowlan'."
Then he kissed her lips.
"Philippe," he corrected gently.
And with a smile she repeated, "Philippe."
"Had you thought that I would come for you?"
"I-I didn't know what to think. It-it seemed impossible that you would dare venture into Germany. I had no hope of anyone else. I have been so frightened for you-so guilty in my conscience-"
"Why?"
"Because it was I who brought you into all this trouble. The vault! The horror of it! Picard reached Shestov in time?"
Rowland laughed, kissed her again and told her what had happened.
"Thank God. I have prayed the Holy Virgin for your safety," she murmured happily.
"I'm hard to get rid of. I've come back to stay, Tanya, for better or for worse."
Her fingers pressed his.
"Whatever happens," she whispered, "for better or for worse!"
"You love me-?" he whispered. "Tell me that you do."
She smiled up at him. "It would be strange if I do not-since I am here in your arms. But I am still frightened, Monsieur Ro-"
"Philippe-"
"I am still frightened-you are not hurt?"
"No," he laughed, "I bear a charmed life. It is you who have kept me safe."
"I?"
"The Princess Tatyana-the fairy princess of my childhood who has come to me again." He raised her chin and held her close. "Kiss me again," he whispered, "and make me Immortal."
She obeyed and in the brief moment that they snatched from the whirl of danger lost the world in each other.
The moment passed, and it was Rowland who first straightened, aware of the hazard of their position and of the man upon the floor who groaned and stirred. Rowland bent over him and felt his heart while Tanya, the fleeting color gone from her cheeks again, stood watching.
"Is he-?"
"Thank God-no," said Rowland, coolly, putting Herr Förster's automatic into his own pocket. "But I'll take no chances. He may come around all right and begin shooting, and I mightn't be so lucky next time."
He rose and caught Tanya by the hand as the urgency of his mission took precedence.
"Listen, Tanya, dear. We can't think of him. It was my death or his and I couldn't take a chance. It's war. And it's not pretty. But we can't afford any sentiment now. We haven't a moment to spare. We must move quickly. The meeting of the Central Committee of Bavaria is set for tonight-and I have promised to return. It is gravely important. Hochwald is to be there. He has gone already. I saw him leave in a machine. He is going to play a desperate game and I've just found out what it is. He has recovered the black bag in which you sent the money to the Haupt Bahnhof. It is here somewhere in this house."
"Here? How do you know?"
"I've found out. He brought it here. I suspect that he and the gentleman yonder upon the floor had planned to make away with it to Holland at the first opportunity."
"I can't believe-"
"Everything points to it. He told you that he was going to bring the case up in the Committee-take the disposition of the funds of Nemi out of our hands and have its appropriation made by the Munich Committee itself. Is this not true?"
"Yes, but how did you-"
Rowland grinned in self-gratulation. He was really beginning to have a high opinion of his own intelligence.
"Madame Rochal told me. But if Hochwald had that notion he has changed it now. He is going to that meeting tonight to swear that he has not been able to recover the money-that you have escaped from Germany and taken it with you."
She was trying to understand.
"And that is why he was guarding me so closely-so that I could not get into touch with our friends in Munich!"
"Precisely. Only you and I can save the situation. You who have only to tell the truth. I who will bring into the meeting the suit-case and if I'm not guessing badly show the bank notes themselves. Do you understand?"
Tanya pressed his hand in token of comprehension.
"But how do you know all this?" she asked.
"I can't explain-there isn't time. Förster may come to at any moment and set up a howl. We must search the house. Will you help?"
The rapidity of his extraordinary revelations had bewildered her a little, but with a shudder of horror at the man upon the floor she followed Rowland out into the hall, and with an effort gathered her scattered wits together.
"You would know the bag if you saw it?" he asked. "The black bag of the Bayrischer Hof?"
"Of course."
"It should be in this room in the wing on the south side," he muttered.
And while she wondered at the completeness of his information, she showed him the way down the corridor into the room which Herr Hochwald had occupied. Together they searched it, – in vain. The bag was not there. A methodical search of the house would take time, but there seemed nothing left to do. So Tanya lighted a candle to hunt in the other rooms upon the second floor while Rowland went down the stairs.
"The care-taker-Taglitz," she cried suddenly in alarm.
Rowland grinned. "Don't worry. He's doing his bit under the dining-room table."
She was not yet accustomed to the strange figures of speech of this astounding person to whom she had given her heart. She only knew that she believed in him with all her soul and that if he could be cheerful, all was well. So she searched the rooms across the corridor, finding no bag of any sort. But in a moment she heard a cry from Rowland and went to the head of the stairs, peering over, candle in hand.
"I've found it," he cried. "Is not this it?"
And as she came running down the stairs she identified the black bag at once as the one the porter of the Bayrischer Hof had procured for her.
"Clever," muttered Rowland. "The perfect security of the obvious. Edgar Allan Poe stuff. Hasn't even bothered to hide it. See. It's heavy-not even touched. We've got to be off. Get your hat and coat. Our yacht awaits us at the foot of the steps."
He was in high good humor.
"Yacht!"
"I came by the Lake-in a rowboat. Sorry I haven't a machine. But we must get back to Munich at once."
She hurried up the stair for her bag, coat and hat and in a moment had joined him by the window through which he had entered. He helped her over the sill, exacting a tribute as she passed and then led her down the steps from the terrace and safely installed her in the stern of his stolen craft, in which they were soon pulling away from shore. The hands of the clock in the hall of the house had pointed to ten. Altogether he had been in the Villa Monteori less than an hour. If they hurried there would still be time to make the evening train to Munich.
A few drops of rain fell as they descended from the terrace and in the distance from the heights of the Wetterstein there was a deep bass rumble of thunder. Rowland bent to his oars and rowed along the shore, smiling at the girl who sat opposite him, a little bewildered at the rapidity of events, the swift tumultuous wooing, so soon ended for she knew not what new hazards.
But she could not misconstrue the marks of his preoccupation and in reply to his breathless eager questions she told him of her fear that Hochwald would discover the papers containing his dossier and other incriminating data which she had kept concealed in her shirt-waist, but she brought them out to his delight and showed them to him. He was eager too to learn how she had managed to hoodwink him in getting possession of the bank-notes and while he listened she told him how she had accomplished the exchange, loading the suit-case which had contained the treasure with rocks taken from the road. As she finished he suddenly stopped rowing and bent quickly forward over the bag which lay between them.
"What is it, – Philippe?" she asked anxiously.
"A key to the bag!" he cried. "It must be opened."
"A key, why I have it. In my coat, I think. Here!" And after a moment she handed it to him.
Rowland unlocked and tore open the bag and thrust a hand inside, a terrible expression of dismay upon his face, the first she had ever seen there or perhaps would see again.
"Glad I thought of it," he muttered. "It seemed too easy. Rocks! Stones! It's filled with rubbish."
And taking out a stone, he dropped it with a loud splash into the water.
"I must go back," he muttered, taking up his oars in a moment of indecision. "I must go back."
But instead of doing so at once, he pulled furiously for the pavilion where he found the patient Benz waiting for him.
"Success," he explained. "Fräulein Korasov is here, but the money-
"He has removed it?"
"No. It's in that house. I would take my oath-"
He broke off hurriedly and got out, helping Tanya to the jetty.
"Herr Benz, in a way we are very fortunate. It is very necessary that Fräulein Korasov be taken at once in safe hands to the meeting of the Committee. There is a train you say at half past ten. She must go on it. Are there two men whom you can trust?"
"They are here," said Benz with a smile. "We were just on the point of following you to Monteori Villa."
"Ah, good. Then let them take Fräulein Korasov to Munich. Tanya, these men are your friends and the friends of the cause. You are quite safe with them. Listen attentively and obey these instructions. You will send a wire to George Senf telling of your safety and departure for Munich. The telegraph officer knows and is to be trusted. Senf will have men to meet you at the Haupt Bahnhof. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she murmured.
"Then au revoir. I will join you later."
"You are going-?" Tanya asked anxiously.
"Back there," he muttered grimly.
In the darkness he saw the compression of her lips but he stepped into the boat and in a moment all that remained of Tanya was the remembrance of the swift brave touch of her fingers upon his own.
Herr Benz remained at the pavilion to resume his watch of suspense and inaction, but he obeyed orders, aware that the tremendous import of the business in which they were involved had given him a new sense of importance in the great cause. Twenty-five millions of francs! That was enough to spread the gospel throughout all the world!
Rowland lost no time in covering the distance to the villa for caution was now of less importance than time. And in a short while he was crawling in through the French window into the hall. First he examined the bonds of Taglitz and then went quickly up the stairs to the room where Förster lay. The man had recovered consciousness but it was easily to be seen that he was badly hurt.
At the sight of Rowland, he muttered a curse.
"Where is this money, Herr Förster?" he asked coolly.
"Money? And if I knew-do you think-I'd tell you? Go and let me die in peace."
"The black bag which you were told to throw into the middle of the lake is a poor substitute for what I want. The notes are hidden in Herr Hochwald's room, nicht wahr?"
Förster was in no condition to dissimulate and his chin gave the slightest twitch upward.
"Ah. That is kind of you- If you will remain quite still, Herr Förster," continued Rowland, "I will send a Doctor to look after you. In the meanwhile I will take the liberty of locking the doors."
Lamp in hand he sought the room into which Khodkine had gone. It was luxuriously furnished with the trappings of a man, evidently the abode in times of peace of Count Monteori himself. First he searched the bathroom, with no results. There was a towel very much soiled upon the rack and another upon the floor which showed traces of some dark stuff.
"Slovenly blighter!" thought Rowland as he went out into the bedroom.
A book-shelf stood in one corner of the room-a likely place? But in a moment with all the volumes strewn upon the floor Rowland had to acknowledge himself mistaken. He tried the bed next, ripping up the mattress and the pillows. The drawers of the bureau were empty, but he took them out one by one and examined the woodwork behind. Next he tested the chairs and couch without success. Then he stopped in disgust to sit down with a cigarette, scratch his head and grin at the frightful disorder he had created. Where-where could Hochwald have hidden the money? He had been in the house less than two hours. Skillful camouflage would require a longer time than that. It must be something more obvious, a simple expedient but clever, worthy of the talents of the gentleman who had locked him in the safe.
He had examined the porcelain stove, a large affair which stood in one corner of the room but there was nothing in it except a few old newspapers. Now as he stared at it, a new thought came to him and lighting his cigarette he touched the fire from the match to the waste paper in the stove. The result was quite surprising, for smoke poured from every aperture, filling the room and driving Rowland to open the window. No draught. He climbed on a chair and lamp in hand, carefully examined the smoke pipe, his long subdued excitement growing again. There was half an inch of rust showing at the lower joint. He then got down from the chair and thrusting in his arm found the flue, at last found the aperture and discovered at once the meaning of the lack of draught, for his fingers met something soft to the touch which they closed on and with some difficulty drew forth. But when he moved the tightly wedged cloth there was a commotion in the smoke pipe above, and as he drew forth the grimy towels which had stopped the hole, a heavy object fell into the smouldering ashes below-an oil-cloth package, the appearance of which was familiar to him-another-another-until in less than ten minutes in a sooty pile upon the rug in an orderly row which tickled his fancy were the twenty-five packages of bank-notes of the Vault of Nemi. He made no mistake this time, examining each one carefully in turn. Triumph! Hurriedly he packed them into the black bag. Clever? It was a wonder that he hadn't thought of it at first-especially after the sooty towels. A childish expedient, a temporary one at best, until Herr Hochwald and Herr Förster could find a way to hide the fortune more effectually.