THE YELLOW DOVE

 
 'His blond hair disheveled, his shoulders coatless, Cyril 
 emerged." 
 
 [PAGE 47]
 
 THE 
 YELLOW DOVE 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE GIBBS 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 BY THE AUTHOR 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPTBIOHT, 191*, 
 
 BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 Printed in the United States of America
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OHAPTEB 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 
 PRELUDE ..... 
 
 1 
 
 I. 
 
 SHELTERED PEOPLE . . . 
 
 5 
 
 II. 
 
 THE UNDERCURRENT . . 
 
 . 17 
 
 III. 
 
 :RICE-PAPERS .... 
 
 31 
 
 IV. 
 
 DANGEROUS SECRETS . . 
 
 . 45 
 
 V. 
 
 THE PURSUIT CONTINUES . 
 
 55 
 
 VI. 
 
 RIZZIO TAKES CHARGE . 
 
 . 68 
 
 VII. 
 
 AN INTRUDER .... 
 
 83 
 
 VIII. 
 
 
 96 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE VIKING'S TOWER . . 
 
 . 108 
 
 X. 
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE . * 
 
 . 121 
 
 XI. 
 
 VON STROMBERG . . . 
 
 . 131 
 
 XII. 
 
 HAMMERSLEY EXPLAINS . . 
 
 . 145 
 
 XIII. 
 
 THE UNWILLING GUEST . . 
 
 . 157 
 
 XIV. 
 
 VON STROMBERG CATECHISES . 
 
 . 172 
 
 XV. 
 
 THE INQUISITION . . . 
 
 . 188 
 
 XVI. 
 
 THE GENERAL PLAYS TO WIN . 
 
 . 206 
 
 XVII. 
 
 LINDBERO .... 
 
 . 221 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 SUCCESS ..... 
 
 . 243 
 
 XIX. 
 
 THE CAVE ON THE THORWALD . 
 
 . 260 
 
 XX. 
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE CAVERN 
 
 . 275 
 
 XXI. 
 
 HARE AND HOUNDS . . . 
 
 . 289 
 
 XXII. 
 
 FROM THE HEIGHTS . . . 
 
 . 306 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 
 320 
 
 2135751 '
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 "His blond hair disheveled, his shoulders coatless, 
 
 Cyril emerged" ..... Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 " 'Not that/ he whispered hoarsely, 'for God's sake 
 
 not that' " 80 
 
 "Her lips . . . were whispering words that she 
 
 hoped could follow him into the distance" . .128 
 
 "The truth, and he becomes an honorable prisoner of 
 
 war. Silence, and he is shot tomorrow. Speak" 218
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 PRELUDE 
 
 RIFTS of sullen gray in the dirty veil of vapor 
 beyond the reaches of dunes, where the sea 
 in long lines of white, like the ghostly hosts 
 of lost regiments, clamored along the sand . . . 
 
 A soughing wind, a shrieking of sea-birds, audible 
 in pauses between the faraway crackle of rifle-fire and 
 the deep reverberations of artillery familiar music 
 to ears trained by long listening. A shrill scream of 
 flying shrapnel, a distant crash and then a tense 
 hush . . . 
 
 Silence nearly, but not quite. A sound so small 
 as to be almost lost in the echoes of the clamor, an 
 impact upon the air like the tapping of the wings of 
 an insect against one's ear-drum, a persistent stac- 
 cato note which no other noise could still, borne with 
 curious distinctness upon some aerial current of the 
 fog bank. 
 
 And yet this tiny sound had a strange effect upon 
 the desolate scene, for in a moment, as if they had 
 been sown with dragon's teeth, the sand dunes sud- 
 denly vomited forth armed men who ran hither and 
 thither, their hands to their ears, peering aloft as 
 though trying to pierce the mystery of the skies. 
 
 "The blighter! It's 'im agayn." 
 1
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 " 7m/ 'Oo's 'im, I'd like to arsk?" 
 
 "Stow yer jaw, cawn't yer 'ear? Ole Yaller-belly, 
 agayn." 
 
 The sounds were now clearly audible and to the 
 south a series of rapid detonations shivered the air. 
 
 "There goes 'Johnny look in the air.' Cawn't get 
 'im, though. 'Strewth ! 'E's a cool one *e is !" 
 
 A hoarse order rang out from the trenches behind 
 them and the men ran for cover. The fog lifted a 
 little and a shaft of light touched the leaden gray of 
 the sea like the sheen on a dirty gun-barrel. The 
 nearer high-angle guns were speaking now fruit- 
 lessly, for the sounds seemed to come from directly 
 overhead. The fog lifted again and a shaft of pale 
 sunlight shot across the line of entrenchments. 
 
 "There 'e is, not wastin' no time *e ayn't." 
 
 "Yus. But they're arfter 'im. There comes hyvia- 
 shun. O WZ>" 
 
 The expletive in a final tone of disgust for the fog 
 had fallen again, completely obliterating the air-craft 
 and its pursuers. 
 
 " 'Go's Yaller-belly?" asked a smooth-faced youth 
 who still wore the sallow of London under his coat of 
 windburn. 
 
 "You're one of the new lot, ayn't yer? You'll 
 
 know b y soon 'oo Yaller-belly is, won't 'e, Bill? 
 
 Pow! That's 'im them sharp ones." 
 
 "Garn!" said the one called Bill. " 'E never 'its 
 anythink but the dirt an' 'e cawn't 'elp that." 
 
 " 'Tayn't 'cos 'e don't try. 'Ear 'em? Nice drop- 
 pin's fer a dove, ayn't they?" 
 
 "Dove?" said the newcomer. 
 
 "Yus. Tubs the swine calls 'em " 
 
 "Tawb, yer blighter." 
 
 2
 
 PRELUDE 
 
 "Tub, I says. Whenever troops is movin', Vs al- 
 ways abaht jus' drops dahn hinformal-like, out o' 
 nowhere " 
 
 "And cawn't they catch 'im?" 
 
 "Catch 'im ? Ely me not they! A thousand 
 'orse-power, they say 'e 'as flies circles round hour 
 hair squad like they was a lot o' bloomink captivatin' 
 balloons." 
 
 "But the 'igh-hangles ?" 
 
 "Moves too fast 'ere an' gone agayn, afore you 
 can fill yer cutty. They do say 'as 'ow when Yaller- 
 belly comes, there's sure to be big doin's along the 
 front." 
 
 "Aye," said Bill. "When we was dahn at Copen- 
 hagen " 
 
 "Compayn, gran'pop " 
 
 "Aw! Wot's the hodds? Dahn at Copenhagen, 'e 
 flew abaht same as 'e's doin' now." 
 
 Bill paused. 
 
 "And what happened?" 
 
 "You'll 'ave to arsk Sir John abaht that, me son," 
 finished the other dryly. 
 
 "We was drillin' rear-guard actions, wasn't we, 
 Bill?" 
 
 "Aye. We was drilled, right, left, an' a bit in the 
 middle." Bill rose and spat down the wind. "Tyke it 
 from me," he finished, with a glance aloft through the 
 mist, "there'll be somethin' happen between 'ere an* 
 Wipers afore the week is hout " 
 
 "Aye the 'earse, Bill." 
 
 "Wot 'earse?" asked the newcomer again. 
 
 "The larst time 'e kyme down Wipers-way. There 
 was a lull in the firin' an' 'tween the lines o' trenches 
 where the dead Dutchies was, comes a 'earse a real 
 
 3
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 'earse with black 'orses, plumes an' all. We thought 
 'twas some general they'd come to fetch and hup we 
 stands hout o' the trenches, comp'ny after comp'ny, 
 caps off, all respec'ful-like. This 'ere 'earse comes 
 along slow an' mournful, black curt'ins an' all flappin' 
 in the wind an' six of the blighters a-marchin' heads 
 down behind it. They wheels up abreast of our 
 comp'ny near a mound o' earth and stops, an' while 
 
 we was lookin' the front side of that there b y 
 
 Vee-Hicle drops out an' a machine-gun begins slippin' 
 it into us pretty as you please. 'Earse that's wot 
 it was a 'earse! an' it jolly well made a funeral out 
 o' B Company." 
 
 "Gawd!" said the newcomer. "And Yaller- 
 belly ?" 
 
 "I ayn't sayin' nothin' abaht 'im. You wait, that's 
 all." 
 
 The sounds of firing rose and fell again. The fog 
 thickened and the last crashes of the high-angle guns 
 echoed out to sea, but the rush of the flying planes 
 continued. Three machines there were by the sound 
 of them, but one grew ever more distinct until the 
 sounds of the three were merged into one. Closer it 
 came, until like the blast of a storm down a mountain- 
 side, a huge shadow fell across the dunes and was gone 
 amid a scattering of futile shots into the fog which 
 might as well have been aimed at the moon. 
 
 Bill, the prescient, straightened and peered through 
 the fog toward the flying plane. 
 
 "A 'earse," he muttered. "That's wot it was a 
 'earse."
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 SHELTERED PEOPLE 
 
 ADY Betty Heathcote had a reputation in which 
 she took pride for giving successful dinners 
 in a neighborhood where successful dinners 
 were a rule rather than an exception. Her prescrip- 
 tion was simple and consisted solely in compounding 
 her social elements by strenuous mixing. She had a 
 faculty for discovering cubs with incipient manes and 
 saw them safely grown without mishap. At her house 
 in Park Lane, politics, art, literature, and science 
 rubbed elbows. Here pictures had been born, plays 
 had had their real premieres, novels had been devised, 
 and poems without number, not a few of which were 
 indited to My Lady Betty's eyebrow, here first saw 
 the light of day. 
 
 For all her dynamic energy in a variety of causes, 
 most of them wise, all of them altruistic, Lady Betty 
 had the rare faculty of knowing when to be restful. 
 Tired Cabinet ministers, overworked lords of the Ad- 
 miralty, leaders in all parties, knew that in Park Lane 
 there would be no questions asked which it would not 
 be possible to answer, that there was always an ex- 
 cellent dinner to be had without frills, a lounge in 
 a quiet room, or, indeed, a pair of pyjamas and a 
 bed if necessary. 
 
 But since the desperate character of the war with 
 Germany had been driven home into the hearts of the 
 
 5
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 people of London, a change had taken place in the 
 complexion of many private entertainments and the 
 same serious air which was to be noted in the mien 
 of well-informed people of all classes upon the street 
 was reflected in the faces of her guests. Her scientists 
 were engrossed with utilitarian problems. Her liter- 
 ary men were sending vivid word-pictures of ruined 
 Rheims and Louvain to their brothers across the At- 
 lantic, and her Cabinet ministers conversed less than 
 usual, addressing themselves with a greater particu- 
 larity to her roasts or her spare bedrooms. Torn 
 between many duties, as patroness to bazaars, as head 
 of a variety of sewing guilds, as president of the new 
 association for the training and equipment of nurses, 
 Lady Heathcote herself showed signs of the wear and 
 tear of an extraordinary situation, but she managed 
 to meet it squarely by using every ounce of her abund- 
 ant energy and every faculty of her resourceful mind. 
 Many secrets were hers, both political and depart- 
 mental, but she kept them nobly, aware that she lived 
 in parlous times, when an unconsidered word might do 
 a damage irreparable. Agents of the enemy, she knew, 
 had been discovered in every walk of life, and while 
 she lived in London's innermost circle, she knew that 
 even her own house might not have been immune from 
 visitors whose secret motives were open to question. 
 It was, therefore, with the desire to reassure herself 
 as to the unadulterated loyalty of her intimates that 
 she had carefully scrutinized her dinner lists, elimi- 
 nating all uncertain quantities through whom or by 
 whom the unreserved character of the conversation 
 across her board might in any way be jeopardized. So 
 it was that tonight's dinner-table had something of 
 the complexion of a family, party, in which John Riz- 
 
 6
 
 zio, the bright particular star in London's firmament 
 of Art, was to lend his effulgence. John Rizzio, dean 
 of collectors, whose wonderful house in Berkely Square 
 rivaled the British Museum and the Wallace Collec- 
 tion combined, an Italian by birth, an Englishman by 
 adoption, who because of his public benefactions had 
 been offered a knighthood and had refused it; John 
 Rizzio, who had been an intimate of King Edward, a 
 friend of Cabinet ministers, who knew as much about 
 the inner workings of the Government as majesty it- 
 self. Long a member of Lady Heathcote's circle, it 
 had been her custom to give him a dinner on the an- 
 niversary of the day of the acquisition of the most 
 famous picture in his collection, "The Conningsby 
 Venus," which had, before the death of the old Earl, 
 been the aim of collectors throughout the world. 
 
 As usual the selection of her guests had been left to 
 Rizzio, whose variety of taste in friendships could 
 have been no better shown than in the company which 
 now graced Lady Heathcote's table. The Earl and 
 Countess of Kipshaven, the one artistic, the other lit- 
 erary; their daughter the Honorable Jacqueline Mor- 
 ley; Captain Byfield, a retired cavalry officer now on 
 special duty at the War Office ; Lady Joyliffe, who had 
 lost her Earl at Mons, an interesting widow, the bud 
 of whose new affections was already emerging from her 
 weeds ; John Sandys, under-secretary for foreign af- 
 fairs, the object of those affections; Miss Doris Ma- 
 ther, daughter of the American cotton king, who was 
 known for doing unusual things, not the least of which 
 was her recent refusal of the hand of John Rizzio, one 
 of London's catches, and the acceptance of that of the 
 Honorable Cyril Hammersley, the last to be mentioned 
 member of this distinguished company, gentleman 
 
 7
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 sportsman and man about town, who as everybody 
 knew would never set the world afire. 
 
 No one knew how this miracle had happened, for 
 Doris Mather's brains were above the ordinary; she 
 had a discriminating taste in books and a knowledge 
 of pictures, and just before dinner, upstairs in a burst 
 of confidence she had given her surprised hostess an 
 idea of what a man should be. 
 
 "He should be clever, Betty," she sighed, "a worker, 
 a dreamer of great dreams, a firebrand in every good 
 cause, a patriot willing to fight to the last drop of his 
 blood " 
 
 Lady Betty's laughter disconcerted her and she 
 paused. 
 
 "And that is why you chose the Honorable 
 Cyril?" 
 
 Miss Mather compressed her lips and frowned at 
 her image in the mirror. 
 
 "Don't be nasty, Betty. I couldn't marry a man 
 as old as John Rizzio." 
 
 Lady Betty only laughed again. 
 
 "Forgive me, dear, but it really is most curious. I 
 wouldn't laugh if you hadn't been so careful to de- 
 scribe to me all the virtues that Cyril hasn't." 
 
 Doris powdered the end of her nose thoughtfully. 
 
 "I suppose they're all a myth men like that. They 
 simply don't exist that's all." 
 
 Lady Betty pinned a final jewel on her bodice. 
 
 "I'm sure John Rizzio is flattered at your choice. 
 Cyril is an old dear. But to marry ! I'd as soon take 
 the automatic chess player. Why are you going to 
 marry Cyril, Doris?" she asked. 
 
 A long pause and more powder. 
 
 "I'm not sure that I am. I don't even know why I 
 
 8
 
 SHELTERED PEOPLE 
 
 thought him possible. I think it's the feeling of the 
 potter for his clay. Something might be made of him. 
 He seems so helpless somehow. Men of his sort always 
 are. I'd like to mother him. Besides" and she flashed 
 around on her hostess brightly "he does sit a horse 
 like a centaur." 
 
 "He's also an excellent shot, a good chauffeur, a 
 tolerable dancer and the best bat in England, all agree- 
 able talents in a gentleman of fashion but er 
 
 hardly " Lady Betty burst into laughter. "Good 
 
 Lord, Doris! Cyril a firebrand!" 
 
 Doris Mather eyed her hostess reproachfully and 
 moved toward the door into the hallway. 
 
 "Come, Betty," she said with some dignity, "are 
 you ready to go down?" 
 
 All of which goes to show that matches are not made 
 in Heaven and that the motives of young women in 
 making important decisions are actuated by the most 
 unimportant details. Hammersley's good fortune was 
 still a secret except to Miss Mather's most intimate 
 friends, but the conviction was slowly growing in the 
 mind of the girl that unless Cyril stopped sitting 
 around in tweeds when everybody else was getting into 
 khaki, the engagement would never be announced. As 
 the foreign situation had grown more serious she had 
 seen other men who weighed less than Cyril throw off 
 the boredom of their London habits and go soldiering 
 into France. But the desperate need of his country 
 for able-bodied men had apparently made no impres- 
 sion upon the placid mind of the Honorable Cyril. It 
 was as unruffled as a highland lake in mid-August. He 
 had contributed liberally from his large means to Lady 
 Heathcote's Ambulance Fund, but his manner had be- 
 come, if anything, more bored than ever. 
 2 9
 
 Miss Mather entered the drawing-room thoughtfully 
 with the helpless feeling of one who, having made a 
 mistake, pauses between the alternatives of tenacity 
 and recantation. And yet as soon as she saw him a 
 little tremor of pleasure passed over her. In spite of 
 his drooping pose, his vacant stare, his obvious inade- 
 quacy she was sure there was something about Cyril 
 Hammersley that made him beyond doubt the most dis- 
 tinguished-looking person in the room not even ex- 
 cepting Rizzio. 
 
 He came over to her at once, the monocle dropping 
 from his eye. 
 
 "Aw'fly glad. Jolly good to see you, m'dear. Hand- 
 some no end." 
 
 He took her hand and bent over her fingers. Such 
 a broad back he had, such a finely shaped head, such 
 shoulders, such strong hands that were capable of so 
 much but had achieved so little. And were these all 
 that she could have seen in him? Reason told her that 
 it was her mind that demanded a mate. Could it be 
 that she was in love with a beautiful body ? 
 
 There was something pathetic in the way he looked 
 at her. She felt very sorry for him, but Betty Heath- 
 cote's laughter was still ringing in her ears. 
 
 "Thanks, Cyril," she said coolly. "I've wanted to 
 see you tonight to tell you that at last I've volun- 
 teered with the Red Cross." 
 
 Hammersley peered at her blankly and then with a 
 contortion set his eyeglass. 
 
 "Red Cross you! Oh, I say now, Doris, that's 
 goin' it rather thick on a chap " 
 
 "It's true. Father's fitting out an ambulance corps 
 and has promised to let me go." 
 
 John Rizzio, tall, urbane, dark and cynical, who had 
 10
 
 SHELTERED PEOPLE 
 
 joined them, heard her last words and broke into a 
 shrug. 
 
 "It's the khaki, Hammersley. The women will fol- 
 low it to the ends of the earth. Broadcloth and tweeds 
 are not the fashion." He ran his arm through Ham- 
 mersley's. "There's nothing for you and me but to 
 volunteer." 
 
 The Honorable Cyril only stared at him blankly. 
 
 "Haw!" he said, which, as Lady Betty once ex- 
 pressed it, was half the note of a jackass. 
 
 Here the Kipshavens arrived and their hostess sig- 
 naled the advance upon the dinner-table. 
 
 One of the secrets of the success of Lady Heath- 
 cote's dinners was the size and shape of her table, 
 which seated no more than ten and was round. Her 
 centerpieces were flat and her candelabra low so that 
 any person at the table could see and converse with 
 anyone else. It was thus possible delicately to remind 
 those who insisted on completely appropriating their 
 dinner partners that private matters could be much 
 more safely discussed in the many corners of the house 
 designed for the purpose. Doris sat between Rizzio 
 and Byfield, Hammersley with Lady Joyliffe just op- 
 posite, and when Rizzio announced the American girl's 
 decision to go to France as soon as her training 
 was completed she became the immediate center of in- 
 terest. 
 
 "That's neutrality of the right sort," said Kips- 
 haven heartily. "I wish all of your countrymen felt 
 as you do." 
 
 "I think most of them do," replied Doris, smil- 
 ing slowly, "but you know, you haven't always been 
 nice to us. There have been many times when we 
 felt that as an older brother you treated us 
 
 11
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 rather shabbily. I'm heaping coals of fire, you see." 
 
 "Touche!" said Rizzio, with a laugh. 
 
 "I bare my head," said the Earl. 
 
 "Ashes to ashes," from Lady Joyliffe. 
 
 Kipshaven smiled. "Once in England gray hairs 
 were venerated, even among the frivolous. Now," he 
 sighed, "they are only a reproach. Peccavi. Forgive 
 me. I wish I could set the clock back." 
 
 "You'd go?" asked Doris. 
 
 "Tomorrow," said the old Earl with enthusiasm. 
 
 Miss Mather glanced at Hammersley who was en- 
 joying his soup, a puree he liked particularly. 
 
 "But isn't there something you could do?" 
 
 "Yes. Write, for America for Italy for Sweden 
 and Holland for Spain. It's something, but it isn't 
 enough. My fingers are itching for a sword." 
 
 The Honorable Cyril looked up. 
 
 "Pen mightier than sword," he quoted vacuously, 
 and went on with his soup. 
 
 "You don't really mean that, Hammersley," said 
 Kipshaven amid smiles. 
 
 "Well rather," drawled the other. "All silly rot 
 fightin'. What's the use. Spoiled my boar-shootin' 
 in Hesse-Nassau no season at Carlsbad no sea- 
 son anywhere everything the same winter sum- 
 mer " 
 
 "You wouldn't think so if you were in the trenches, 
 my boy," laughed Byfield. 
 
 "Beastly happy I'm not," said Hammersley. "Don't 
 mind shootin' pheasant or boar. Bad form shootin' 
 men not the sportin' thing, you know pottin' a bird 
 on the ground 'specially Germans." 
 
 "Boches!" said Lady Betty contemptuously. She 
 was inclined to be intolerant. For her Algy had al-
 
 SHELTERED PEOPLE 
 
 ready been mentioned in dispatches. "I don't under- 
 stand you, Cyril." 
 
 Hammersley regarded her gravely while Constance 
 'Joyliffe took up his cudgels. 
 
 "You forget Cyril's four years at Heidelberg." 
 
 "No I don't," said their hostess warmly, "and I 
 could almost believe Cyril had German sympathies." 
 
 "I have, you know," said Hammersley calmly, sniff- 
 ing at the rim of his wineglass. 
 
 "This is hardly the time to confess it," said Kips- 
 haven dryly. 
 
 Doris sat silent, aware of a deep humiliation which 
 seemed to envelop them both. 
 
 Rizzio laughed and produced a clipping from Punch. 
 "Hammersley is merely stoically peaceful. Listen." 
 And he read: 
 
 "I was playing golf one day when the Germans 
 
 landed 
 All our troops had run away and all our ships were 
 
 stranded 
 And the thought of England's shame nearly put 
 
 me off my game." 
 
 Amid the laughter the Honorable Cyril straight- 
 ened. 
 
 "Silly stuff, that," he said quite seriously, "to put a 
 fellow off his game." And turning to Lady Joyliffe: 
 "Punch a bit brackish lately. What?" 
 
 "Cyril, you're insular," from Lady Heathcote. 
 
 "No, insulated," said Doris with a flash of the eyes. 
 
 Rizzio laughed. "Highly potential but er not 
 dangerous. Why should he be? He's your typical 
 Briton sport-loving, calm and nerveless in the most 
 exacting situations I was at Lords, you know, when 
 
 13
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 Hammersley made that winning run for Marylebone 
 two minutes to play. Every bowler they put up 
 
 "It's hardly a time for bats," put in Kipshaven 
 dryly. "What we need is fast bowlers with rifles." 
 
 The object of these remarks sat serenely, smiling 
 blandly around the table, but made no reply. In the 
 pause that followed Sandys was heard in a half whis- 
 per to Byfield. 
 
 "What's this I hear of a leak at the War Office?" 
 
 Captain Byfield glanced down the table. "Have you 
 heard that?" 
 
 "Yes. At the club." 
 
 Captain Byfield touched the rim of his glass to his 
 lips. 
 
 "I've heard nothing of it." 
 
 "What?" from a chorus. 
 
 "Information is getting out somewhere. I violate 
 no confidences in telling you. The War Office is per- 
 turbed." 
 
 "How terrible!" said Lady Joyliffe. "And don't 
 they suspect?" 
 
 "That's the worst of it. The Germans got wind of 
 some of Lord Kitchener's plans and some of the Ad- 
 miralty's which nobody knew but those very near 
 the men at the top." 
 
 "A spy in that circle unbelievable," said Kips- 
 haven. 
 
 "My authority is a man of importance. Fortu- 
 nately no damage has been done. The story goes that 
 we're issuing false statements in certain channels to 
 mislead the enemy and find the culprit." 
 
 "But how does the news reach the Germans?" asked 
 Rizzio. 
 
 "No one knows. By courier to the coast and then 
 
 14
 
 SHELTERED PEOPLE 
 
 by fast motor-boat perhaps; or by aeroplane. It's 
 very mysterious. A huge Taube, yellow in color, flying 
 over the North Sea between England and the conti- 
 nent has been sighted and reported by English vessels 
 again and again and each flight has coincided with 
 some unexpected move on the part of the enemy. Once 
 it was seen just before the raid at Falmouth, again be- 
 fore the Zeppelin visit to Sandringham." 
 
 "A yellow dove !" said Lady Kipshaven. "A bird of 
 ill omen, surely." 
 
 "But how could such an aeroplane leave the shores 
 of England without being remarked?" asked Kips- 
 haven. 
 
 "Oh," laughed Sandys, "answer me that and we 
 have the solution of the problem. A strict watch is 
 being kept on the coasts, and the government em- 
 ployees the postmen, police, secret-service men of 
 every town and village from here to the Shetlands are 
 on the lookout but not a glimpse have they had of 
 him, not a sign of his arrival or departure, but only 
 last week he was reported by a destroyer flying toward 
 the English coast." 
 
 "Most extraordinary!" from Lady Kipshaven. 
 
 "It's a large machine?" asked Rizzio. 
 
 "Larger than any aeroplane ever built in Europe. 
 They say Curtis, the American, was building a thou- 
 sand horsepower machine at Hammondsport in the 
 States. This one must be at least as large as that." 
 
 "But surely such a machine could not be hidden in 
 England for any length of time without discovery." 
 
 "It would seem so but there you are. The main 
 point is that he hasn't been discovered and that its 
 pilot is here in England ready to fly across the sea 
 with our military secrets when he gets them." 
 
 15
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "D n him!" growled Kipshaven quite audibly, a 
 sentiment which echoed so truly in the hearts of those 
 present that it passed without comment. 
 
 "The captain of a merchant steamer who saw it 
 quite plainly reported that the power of the machine 
 was simply amazing that it flew at about six thousand 
 feet and was lost to sight in an incredibly brief time. 
 In short, my friends, the Yellow Dove is one of the 
 miracles of the day and its pilot one of its mys- 
 teries." 
 
 "But our aviation men can they do nothing?" 
 
 "What? Chase rainbows? Where shall their voy- 
 age begin and where end? He's over the North Sea 
 one minute and in Belgium the next. Our troops in 
 the trenches think he's a phantom. They say even the 
 bombs he drops are phantoms. They are heard to ex- 
 plode but nobody has ever been hit by them." 
 
 "What will the War Office do?" 
 
 Sandys shrugged expressively. "What would you 
 do?" 
 
 "Shoot the beggar," said the Honorable Cyril im- 
 passively. 
 
 "Shoot the moon, sir," roared the Earl angrily. 
 "It's no time for idiotic remarks. If this story is true, 
 a danger hangs over England. No wholesome Briton," 
 here he glanced again at Hammersley, "ought to go to 
 sleep until this menace is discovered and destroyed." 
 
 "The Yellow Dove is occult," said Sandys, "like a 
 witch on a broomstick." 
 
 "A Flying Dutchman," returned Lady Joyliffe. 
 
 "There seems to be no joke about that," said the 
 Earl.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE UNDERCURRENT 
 
 THEY were still discussing the strange story of 
 Sandys when Lady Heathcote signaled her 
 feminine guests and they retired to the draw- 
 ing-room. Over the coffee the interest persisted and 
 Lord Kipshaven was not to be denied. If, as it seemed 
 probable, this German spy was making frequent flights 
 between England and the continent, he must have some 
 landing field, a hangar, a machine shop with supplies 
 of oil and fuel. Where in this tight little island could 
 a German airman descend with a thousand horsepower 
 machine and not be discovered unless with the conniv- 
 ance of Englishmen? The thing looked bad. If there 
 were Englishmen in high places in London who could 
 be bought, there were others, many others, who 
 helped to form the vicious chain which led to Ger- 
 many. 
 
 "I tell you I believe we're honeycombed with spies," 
 he growled. "For one that we've caught and impris- 
 oned or shot, there are dozens in the very midst of us. 
 If this thing keeps up we'll all of us be suspecting one 
 another. How do I know that you, Sandys, you, Rizzio, 
 Byfield or even Hammersley here isn't a secret agent of 
 the Germans? What dinner- table in England is safe 
 when spies are found in the official family at the War 
 Office?" 
 
 Rizzio smiled. 
 
 "We, who are about to die, salute you," he said, 
 
 17
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 raising his liqueur glass. "And you, Lord Kipshaven, 
 how can we be sure of you?" 
 
 "By this token," said the old man, rising and put- 
 ting his back to the fire, "that if I even suspected, I'd 
 shoot any one of you down here now, with as little 
 compunction as I'd kill a dog." 
 
 "I'll have my coffee first," laughed Byfield, "if you 
 don't mind." 
 
 "Coffee then coffin," said Rizzio. 
 
 "Jolly unpleasant conversation this," remarked 
 Hammersley. "Makes a chap a bit fidgety." 
 
 "Fidgety!" roared the Earl. "We ought to be fid- 
 gety with the Germans winning east and west and the 
 finest flower of our service already killed in battle. We 
 need men and still more men. Any able-bodied fellow 
 under forty who stays at home" and he glanced mean- 
 ingly at the Honorable Cyril "ought to be put to 
 work mending roads." 
 
 The object of these remarks turned the blank stare 
 of his monocle but made no reply. 
 
 "Yes, I mean you, Cyril," went on the Earl steadily. 
 "Your mother was born a Prussian. I knew her well 
 and I think she learned to thank God that fortune had 
 given her an Englishman for a husband. But the taint 
 is in you. Your brother has been wounded at the 
 front. His blood is cleansed. But what of yours? 
 You went to a German university with your Prussian 
 kinsmen and now openly flaunt your sympathies at a 
 dinner of British patriots. Speak up. How do you 
 stand? Your friends demand it." 
 
 Hammersley turned his cigarette carefully in its 
 long amber holder. 
 
 "Oh, I say, Lord Kipshaven," he said with a slow 
 smile, "you're not spoofing a chap, are you?" 
 
 18
 
 THE UNDERCURRENT 
 
 "I was never more in earnest in my life. How do 
 you stand?" 
 
 "Haw!" said Hammersley with obvious effort. "I'm 
 British, you know, and all that sort of thing. How can 
 an Englishman be anything else? Silly rot fightin' 
 that's what I say. That's all I say," he finished look- 
 ing calmly for approval from one to the other. 
 
 Smiles from Sandys and Rizzio met this inadequacy, 
 but the Earl, after glaring at him moodily for a mo- 
 ment, uttered a smothered, "Paugh," and shrugging a 
 shoulder, turned to Rizzio and Sandys who were dis- 
 cussing a recent submarine raid. 
 
 Hammersley and Byfield sat near each other at the 
 side of the table away from the others. There was a 
 moment of silence which Hammersley improved by 
 blowing smoke rings toward the ceiling. Captain By- 
 field watched him a moment and then after a glance in 
 the direction of the Earl leaned carelessly on an elbow 
 toward Hammersley. 
 
 "Any shootin' at the North?" he asked. 
 
 Hammersley's monocle dropped and the eyes of the 
 two men met. 
 
 "Yes. I'm shootin' the day after tomorrow." said 
 Hammersley quietly. Byfield looked away and another 
 long moment of silence followed. Then the Honorable 
 Cyril after a puff or two took the long amber holder 
 from his mouth, removed the cigarette and smudged the 
 ash upon the receiver. 
 
 "Bally heady cigarettes, these of Algy's. Don't 
 happen to have any 'baccy and papers about you, do 
 you, Byfield?" 
 
 "Well, rather," replied the captain. And he pushed 
 a pouch and a package of cigarette papers along the 
 tablecloth. "It's a mix of my own. I hope you'll like it." 
 
 19
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 Hammersley opened the bag and sniffed at its con- 
 tents. 
 
 "Good stuff, that. Virginia, Perique and a bit of 
 Turkish. What?" 
 
 Byfield nodded and watched Hammersley as he 
 poured out the tobacco, rolled the paper and lighted 
 it at the candelabra, inhaling luxuriously. 
 
 "Thanks," he sighed. "Jolly good of you," and he 
 pushed the pouch back to Byfield along the table. 
 
 "You must come to Scotland some day, old chap," 
 said the Honorable Cyril carelessly. 
 
 "Delighted. When the war is over," returned By- 
 field quietly. "Not until the war is over." 
 
 "Awf'ly glad to have you any time, you know 
 awf'ly glad." 
 
 "In case of furlough I'll look you up." 
 
 "Do," said the Honorable Cyril. 
 
 Hammersle3 7 's rather bovine gaze passed slowly 
 around the room, and just over Lord Kipshaven's head 
 in the mirror over the mantel it met the dark gaze of 
 John Rizzio. The fraction of a second it paused there 
 and then he stretched his long legs and rose, stifling a 
 yawn. 
 
 "Let's go in what?" he said to Byfield. 
 
 Byfield got up and at the same time there was a 
 movement at the mantel. 
 
 "Don't be too hard on the chap," Rizzio was saying 
 in an undertone to Kipshaven. "You're singing the 
 *Hassgesang.' He's harmless I tell you positively 
 harmless." And then as the others moved toward the 
 door: "Come, Lady Heathcote won't mind our to- 
 bacco." 
 
 Hammersley led the way, with Byfield and Rizzio 
 at his heels. Jacqueline Morley had been trying to 
 
 20
 
 THE UNDERCURRENT 
 
 play the piano, but there was no heart in the music 
 until she struck up "Tipperary," when there was a 
 generous chorus in which the men joined. 
 
 Hammersley found Doris with Constance Joyliffe 
 in an alcove. At his approach Lady Joyliffe retired. 
 
 "Handsome, no end," he murmured to her as he 
 sank beside her. 
 
 "Handsome is as handsome does, Cyril," she said 
 slowly. "If you knew what I was thinking of, you 
 wouldn't be so generous." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Just what everybody is thinking about you that 
 you've got to do something enlist to fight go to 
 France, if only as a chauffeur. They'd let you do that 
 tomorrow if you'd go." 
 
 "Chauffeur ! Me ! Not really !" 
 
 "Yes, that or something else," determinedly. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 She hesitated a moment and then went on distinctly. 
 
 "Because I could never marry a man people talked 
 about as people are talking about you." 
 
 "Not marry ?" The Honorable Cyril's face for 
 the first time that evening showed an expression of con- 
 cern. "Not marry me? You can't mean that, 
 Doris." 
 
 "I do mean it, Cyril," she said firmly. "I can't 
 marry you." 
 
 "Why ?" 
 
 "Because to me love is a sacrament. Love of woman 
 love of country, but the last is the greater of the 
 two. No man who isn't a patriot is fit to be a hus- 
 band." 
 
 "A patriot " 
 
 She broke in before he could protest. "Yes a
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 patriot. You're not a patriot that is, if you're an 
 Englishman. I don't know you, Cyril. You puzzle 
 me. You're lukewarm. Day after day you've seen 
 your friends and mine go off in uniform, but it doesn't 
 mean anything to you. It doesn't mean anything to 
 you that England is in danger and that she needs 
 every man who can be spared at home to go to the 
 front. You see them go and the only thing it means 
 to you is that you're losing club-mates and sport- 
 mates. Instead of taking the infection of fervor 
 you go to Scotland to shoot not Germans but 
 deer! Deer!" she repeated scathingly. 
 
 "But there aren't any Germans in Scotland at least 
 none that a chap could shoot," he said with a smile. 
 
 "Then go where there are Germans to shoot," she 
 said impetuously. She put her face to her hands a 
 moment. "Oh, don't you understand? You've got to 
 prove yourself. You've got to make people stop speak- 
 ing of you as I've heard them speak of you tonight. 
 Here you are in the midst of friends, people who know 
 you and like you, but what must other people who 
 don't know you so well or care so much as we? What 
 must they think and say of your indifference, of your 
 openly expressed sympathy with England's enemies? 
 Even Lady Betty, a kinswoman and one of your truest 
 friends, has lost patience with you I had almost said 
 lost confidence in you." 
 
 Her voice trailed into silence. Hammersley was 
 moving the toe of his varnished boot along the border 
 of the Aubusson rug. 
 
 "I'm sorry," he said slowly. "Awf'ly sorry." 
 
 "Sorry! Are you? But what are you going to do 
 about it?" 
 
 "Do?" he said vaguely. "I don't know, I'm sure.
 
 THE UNDERCURRENT 
 
 I'm no bally use, you know. Wouldn't be any bally use 
 over there. Make some silly ass mistake probably. 
 No end of trouble all around." 
 
 "And you're willing to sacrifice the goodwill, the 
 affection of your friends, the respect of the girl you 
 say you love " 
 
 "Oh, I say, Doris. Not that " 
 
 "Yes. I've got to tell you. I can't be unfair to 
 myself. I can't respect a man who sees others cheer- 
 fully carrying his burdens, doing his work, accepting 
 his hardships in order that he may sleep soundly at 
 home far away from the nightmare of shot and shell. 
 You, Cyril, you! Is it that the love of ease? Or is 
 it something else something to do with your German 
 kinship the memory of your mother. What is it? 
 If you still want me, Cyril, it is my right to know ' : 
 
 "Want you, Doris " his voice went a little lower. 
 "Yes, I want you. You might know that." 
 
 "Then you must tell me." 
 
 He hesitated and peered at the eyeglass in his fin- 
 gers. 
 
 "I think it's because I " He paused and then 
 crossed his hands and bowed his head with an air of 
 relinquishment. "Because I think I must be a" he 
 almost whispered the word "a coward." 
 
 Doris Mather gazed at him a long moment of min- 
 gled dismay and incredulity. 
 
 "You," she whispered, "the first sportsman of Eng- 
 ( and a a coward." 
 
 He gave a short mirthless laugh. 
 
 "Queer, isn't it, the way a chap feels about such 
 things? I always hated the idea of being mangled. 
 Awf'ly unpleasant idea that 'specially in the tummy. 
 
 In India once I saw a chap " 
 
 23
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "You a coward!" Doris repeated, wide-eyed. "I 
 don't believe you." 
 
 He bent his head again. 
 
 "I I'm afraid you'd better," he said uncertainly. 
 
 She rose, still looking at him incredulously, another 
 Idoubt, a more dreadful one, winging its flight to and 
 fro across her inner vision. 
 
 "Come," she said in a tone she hardly recognized 
 as her own, "come let us join the others." 
 
 He stood uncertainly and as she started to go, 
 
 "You'll let me take you home, Doris?" he asked. 
 
 She bent her head, and without replying made her 
 way to the group beyond the alcove. 
 
 Hammersley stood a moment watching her dimin- 
 ishing back and then a curious expression, half of trou- 
 ble, half of resolution, came into his eyes. 
 
 Then after a quick glance around the curtain he 
 suddenly reached into his trousers pocket, took some- 
 thing out and scrutinized it carefully by the light of 
 the lamp. He put it back quickly and setting his 
 monocle sauntered forth into the room. As he moved 
 to join the group at the piano John Rizzio met him 
 in the middle of the room. 
 
 "Could I have a word with you, Hammersley?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Happy," said the Honorable Cyril. "Here?" 
 
 "In the smoking-room if you don't mind?" 
 
 Hammersley hesitated a moment and then swung on 
 his heels and led the way. At the smoking-room door 
 from the hallway Rizzio paused, then quietly drew the 
 heavy curtains behind them. 
 
 Hammersley, standing by the table, followed this 
 action with a kind of bored curiosity, aware that Riz- 
 zio's dark gaze had never once left him since they had
 
 THE UNDERCURRENT 
 
 entered the room. Slowly Hammersley took his hands 
 from his pockets, reached into his waistcoat for his 
 cigarette case, and as Rizzio approached, opened and 
 offered it to him. 
 
 "Smoke?" he asked carelessly. 
 
 "I don't mind if I do. But I've taken a curious lik- 
 ing for rolled cigarettes. Ah! I thought so." He 
 opened the tobacco jar and sniffed at it, searched 
 around the articles on the table, then, "How disap- 
 pointing! Nothing but Algy's dreadful pipes. You 
 don't happen to have any rice-papers do you?" 
 
 Hammersley was lighting his own cigarette at the 
 brazier. 
 
 "No. Sorry," he replied laconically. 
 
 Rizzio leaned beside him against the edge of the 
 table. 
 
 "Strange. I thought I saw you making a cigarette 
 in the dining-room." 
 
 Hammersley's face brightened. "Oh, yes, Byfield. 
 Byfield has rice-papers." 
 
 "I'd rather have yours," he said quietly. 
 
 The Honorable Cyril looked up. 
 
 "Mine, old chap? I thought I told you I hadn't 
 any/' ^ 
 
 Rizzio smiled amiably. 
 
 "Then I must have misunderstood you," he said 
 politely. 
 
 "Yes," said Hammersley and sank into an arm- 
 chair. 
 
 Rizzio did not move and the Honorable Cyril, his 
 head back, was already blowing smoke rings. 
 
 Rizzio suddenly relaxed with a laugh and put his 
 legs over a small chair near Hammersley's and folded 
 his arms along its back. 
 
 3 25
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "Do you know, Hammersley," he said with a laugh, 
 "I sometimes think that as I grow older my hearing 
 is not as good as it used to be. Perhaps you'll say 
 that I cling to my vanishing youth with a fatuous 
 desperation. I do. Rather silly, isn't it, because I'm 
 quite forty-five. But I've a curiosity, even in so small 
 a matter, to learn whether things are as bad with me as 
 I think they are. Now unless you're going to add a 
 few more gray hairs to my head by telling me that I'm 
 losing my sight as well as my hearing, you'll gratify 
 my curiosity an idle curiosity, if you like, but still 
 strangely important to my peace of mind." 
 
 He paused a moment and looked at Cyril, who was 
 examining him with frank bewilderment. 
 
 "I don't think I understand," said Hammersley po- 
 litely. 
 
 ""I'll try to make it clearer. Something has hap- 
 pened tonight that makes me think that I'm getting 
 either blind or deaf or both. To begin with I thought 
 you said you had no cigarette papers. If I heard you 
 wrong, then the burden of proof rests upon my ears 
 if my eyes are at fault it's high time I consulted a 
 specialist, because you know, at the table in the dining- 
 room when you were sitting with Byfield, quite dis- 
 tinctly I saw you put a package of Riz-la-Croix into 
 your right-hand trousers pocket. The color as you 
 know is yellow a color to which my optic nerve is 
 peculiarly sensitive." He laughed again. "I know 
 you'd hardly go out of your way to make a misstate- 
 mont on so small a matter, and if you don't mind sat- 
 isfying a foible of my vanity, I wish you'd tell me 
 whether or not I'm mistaken." 
 
 He stopped and looked at Hammersley who was re- 
 garding him with polite, if puzzled tolerance. Then,
 
 THE UNDERCURRENT 
 
 as if realizing that something was required of him 
 Hammersley leaned forward. 
 
 "I say, Rizzio. What the deuce is it all about? 
 I'm sorry you're gettin' old an' all that sort of thing, 
 but I can't help it. Now can I, old chap?" 
 
 Rizzio's smile slowly faded and his gaze passed 
 Hammersley and rested on the brass fender of tke 
 fireplace. 
 
 "You don't care to tell me?" he asked. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "About that package of rice-papers." 
 
 "Byfield has them." 
 
 "Not that package," put in Rizzio with a wave of 
 the hand. And then, leaning forward, in a low tone, 
 "The other." 
 
 Hammersley sat upright a moment, his hands on the 
 chair-arms and then sank back in his chair with a 
 laugh. 
 
 "I say. I can take a joke as well as the next, but - 
 er what's the answer?" 
 
 Rizzio rose, his graceful figure dominant. 
 
 "I don't think that sort of thing will do, Ham- 
 mersley." 
 
 His demeanor was perfectly correct, his hand-wave 
 easy and a well-bred smile flickered at his lips, but 
 his tone masked a mystery. Hammersley rose, remov-j 
 ing his cigarette with great deliberateness from its 
 holder and throwing it into the fire. 
 
 "If there isn't anything else you want to see me 
 about " He took a step in the direction of the 
 door. 
 
 "One moment, please." 
 
 Hammersley paused. 
 
 "I think we'd better drop subterfuge. I know 
 27
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 why you were here tonight, why Byfield was here and 
 perhaps you know now why I am here." 
 
 "Can't imagine, I'm sure," said Cyril. 
 
 "Perhaps you can guess, when I tell you that this 
 party was of my own choosing that my plans were 
 made with a view to arranging your meeting with Cap- 
 tain Byfield in a place known to be above suspicion. 
 I have been empowered to relieve you of any further 
 responsibility in the matter in question in short of 
 the papers themselves." 
 
 "Oh, I say. Vanished youth, cigarette papers and 
 all that. You're goin' it a bit thick, Rizzio, old boy." 
 
 Rizzio put a hand into the inside pocket of his even- 
 ing coat and drew out a card-case, which he opened 
 under Hammersley's eyes. 
 
 "Look, Hammersley," he whispered. "Maxwell gave 
 me this ! Perhaps you understand now." 
 
 The Honorable Cyril fixed his eyeglass carefully and 
 stared at the card-case. 
 
 "By Jove," he muttered, with sudden interest. 
 
 "Now you understand?" said Rizzio. 
 
 "You !" whispered Hammersley, looking at him. The 
 languor of a moment before had fallen from him with 
 his dropping monocle. 
 
 "Yes, I. Now quick, the papers," muttered Rizzio, 
 putting the card-case in his pocket. "Someone may 
 come at any moment." 
 
 For a long space of time Hammersley stood uncer- 
 tainly peering down at the pattern in the rug, then he 
 straightened and, crossing the room, put his back to 
 the fireplace. 
 
 "There may be a mistake," he said firmly. "I can't 
 risk it." 
 
 Rizzio stood for a moment staring at him as though 
 28
 
 THE UNDERCURRENT 
 
 he had not heard correctly. Then he crossed over and 
 faced the other man. 
 
 "You mean that?" 
 
 Hammersley put his hands in his trousers pockets. 
 
 "I fancy so." 
 
 "What are you going to do?" 
 
 "What I've been told to do." 
 
 "My orders supersede yours." 
 
 "H-m. I'm not sure." 
 
 "You can't doubt my credentials." 
 
 "Hardly that. Er I think I know best, that's aH.' J 
 
 Rizzio took a pace or two before the fireplace in 
 front of him, his brows tangled, his fingers twitching 
 behind his back. Then he stopped with the air of a 
 man who has reached a decision. 
 
 "You understand what this refusal means?" 
 
 Hammersley shrugged. 
 
 "You realize that it makes you an object of suspi- 
 cion ?" asked the other. 
 
 "How? In doing what was expected of me?" said 
 Hammersley easily. 
 
 "You are expected to give those papers to me." 
 
 "I can't." 
 
 Rizzio's fine face had gone a shade paler under the 
 glossy black of his hair and his eyes gleamed danger- 
 ously under his shaggy brows. He measured the Hon- 
 orable Cyril's six feet two against his own and then 
 turned away. 
 
 "I think I understand," he said slowly. "Your ac- 
 tion leaves me no other alternative." 
 
 Hammersley, his hands still deep in his pockets, 
 seemed to be thinking deeply. 
 
 "Oh, I wouldn't say that. Each man according to 
 his lights. You have your orders. I have mine. They 
 
 29
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 seem to conflict. I'm going to carry mine out. If that 
 interferes with carrying out yours, I'm not to blame. 
 It's what happens in the end that matters," he finished 
 significantly. 
 
 Rizzio thought deeply for a moment. 
 
 "You'll at least let me see them?" 
 
 "No, I can't." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I have my own reasons." 
 
 Another pause in which Rizzio gave every appear- 
 ance of a baffled man. 
 
 "You realize that if I gave the alarm and those 
 papers were found on you " 
 
 "You wouldn't do that." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because of your card-case." 
 
 "That signifies nothing to anyone but you and me." 
 
 Hammersley smiled. 
 
 "I'll take the risk, Rizzio," he said finally. 
 
 The two men had been so absorbed in their conver- 
 sation that they had not heard the drawing of the cur- 
 tains of the door, but a sound made them turn and 
 there stood Doris Mather.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 RICE-PAPERS 
 
 DORIS looked from the man whose hand she had 
 accepted to the one she had refused. Their 
 attitudes were eloquent of concealment and 
 the few phrases which had reached Jier ears as she 
 paused outside the curtain did nothing to relieve the 
 sudden tension of her fears. She hesitated for a mo- 
 ment as Rizzio recovered himself with an effort. 
 
 "Do come in, Doris," he said with a smile. "Ham- 
 mersley and I were er " 
 
 "Discussing the scrap of paper. I'm sure of it,'* 
 she said coolly. "Nothing is so fruitful of argument. 
 I shouldn't have intruded, but Cyril was to take me 
 home and I'm ready to go." 
 
 A look passed between the men. 
 
 "By Jove of course," said Cyril with a glance at 
 his watch. "If you'll excuse me, Rizzio " 
 
 "Betty is going to Scotland tomorrow early and I 
 think she wants to go to bed." 
 
 Rizzio laughed. "The war has made us virtuous. 
 Eleven o'clock ! We're losing our beauty sleep." 
 
 He followed them to the door, but pleading a desire 
 for a night-cap, remained in the smoking-room. 
 
 "I promised that you should take me home," said 
 the girl to Hammersley as they passed along the hall, 
 "But I'm sorry if I interrupted : 
 
 "Awf'ly glad," he murmured. "Nothing important, 
 you know. Club matter. Personal." 
 
 31
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 Doris stopped just outside the drawing-room door 
 and searched his face keenly, while she whispered: 
 
 "And the threats of exposure. Oh, I heard that. 
 I couldn't help it Cyril " 
 
 He glanced down at her quickly. 
 
 "Hush, Doris." 
 
 Something she saw in his expression changed her 
 resolution to question him. The mystery which she 
 had felt to hang about him since he had said he was a 
 coward had deepened. Something told her that she 
 had been treading on forbidden ground and that in 
 obeying him she served his interests best, so she led 
 the way into the drawing-room, where they made their 
 adieux. 
 
 Byfield had already gone and Sandys and Lady 
 Joyliffe were just getting into their wraps. 
 
 "You'll meet me here at ten?" their hostess was ask- 
 ing of Constance Joyliffe. 
 
 "If I'm not demolished by a Zeppelin in the mean- 
 while," laughed the widow. 
 
 "Or the Yellow Dove," said Jacqueline Morley. 
 "I'm sure he alights on the roofs of the Parliament 
 Houses." 
 
 "You'll be safe in Scotland at any rate, Constance. 
 We're quite too unimportant up there to be visited by 
 engines of destruction " she laughed meaningly. 
 "That is always excepting Jack Sandys." 
 
 Sandys looked self-conscious, but Lady Joyliffe 
 merely beamed benignly. 
 
 "It will really be quite restful, I'm sure," she said 
 easily. "Is Cyril going to be at Ben-a-Chielt?" 
 
 Hammersley awoke from a fit of abstraction. 
 
 "Quite possible," he murmured, "gettin' to be a bit 
 of a hermit lately. Like it though rather." 
 
 32
 
 RICE-PAPERS 
 
 "Cyril hasn't anyone to play with," said Betty 
 Heathcote, "so he has taken to building chicken- 
 houses." 
 
 "Fearfully absorbin' chicken-houses. Workin' 'em 
 out on a plan of my own. You'll see. Goin' in for 
 hens to lay two eggs a day." And then to Kipshaven, 
 "So the submarines can't starve us out, you know," 
 he explained. 
 
 "I don't think you need worry about that," said the 
 Earl dryly, moving toward the door. 
 
 Doris Mather went upstairs for her wraps and when 
 she came down she found Hammersley in his topcoat 
 awaiting her. As they went down the steps into the 
 waiting limousine her companion offered her his arm. 
 Was it only fancy that gave her the impression that 
 his glance was searching the darkness of the Park be- 
 yond the lights of the waiting cars with a keenness 
 which seemed uncalled for on so prosaic an occasion? 
 He helped her in and gave the direction to the chauf- 
 feur. 
 
 "Ashwater Park, Stryker, by way of Hampstead 
 and hurry," she heard him say, which was surprising 
 since the nearer way lay through Harlenden and Har- 
 row-on-Hill. The orders to hurry, too, save in the 
 stress of need, were under the circumstances hardly 
 flattering to her self-esteem. But she remembered the 
 urgent look in his eyes in the hall when he had silenced 
 her questions and sank back in the seat, her gaze fixed 
 on the gloom of Hyde Park to their left, waiting for 
 him to speak. He sat rigidly beside her, his hands 
 clasped about his stick, his eyes peering straight be- 
 fore him at the back of Stryker's head. She felt his 
 restraint and a little bitterly remembered the cause 
 of it, buoyed by a hope that since he had thought it
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 fit to enact a lie, the whole tissue of doubts which as- 
 sailed her might be based on misconception also. That 
 he was no coward she knew. More than one instance of 
 his physical courage came back to her, incidents of his 
 life before fortune had thrown them together and she 
 only too well remembered the time when he had jumped 
 from her car and thrown himself in front of a runa- 
 way horse, saving the necks of the occupants of the 
 vehicle. He had lied to her. But why why? 
 
 She closed her eyes trying to shut out the darkness 
 and seek the sanctuary of some inner light, but she 
 failed to find it. It seemed as though the gloom which 
 spread over London had fallen over her spirit. 
 
 "The City of Dreadful Night," she murmured at 
 last. "I can't ever seem to get used to it." 
 
 She heard his light laugh and the sound of it com- 
 forted her. 
 
 "Jolly murky, isn't it? I miss that fireworks Johnny 
 pourin' whiskey over by Waterloo Bridge and Big 
 Ben. Doesn't seem like London. All rot anyway." 
 
 "You don't think there's danger," she asked cau- 
 tiously. 
 
 He hesitated a moment before replying. And then, 
 "No," he said, "not now." 
 
 Silence fell over them again. It was as though a 
 shape sat between, a phantom of her dead hopes and 
 his, something so cold and tangible that she drew away 
 in her own corner and looked out at the meaningless 
 blur of the sleeping city. Her lips were tightly closed. 
 She had given him his chance to speak, but he had not 
 spoken and every foot of road that they traversed 
 seemed to carry them further apart. The end of their 
 journey ! Was it to be the end ... of everything 
 between them? 
 
 34
 
 RICE-PAPERS 
 
 After a while that seemed interminable she heard 
 his voice again. 
 
 "I suppose you think I'm an awful rotter." 
 
 She turned her head and tried to read his face, but 
 he kept it away from her, toward the opposite window. 
 The feeling that she had voiced to Betty Heathcote 
 of wanting to "mother" him came over her in a warm 
 effusion. 
 
 "Nothing that you can say to me will make me think 
 jou one, Cyril," she said gently. 
 
 "Thanks awf'ly," he murmured. And after a pause, 
 "I am though, you know." 
 
 She leaned forward impulsively and laid a hand on 
 his knee. 
 
 "No. You're acting strangely, but I know that 
 there's a reason for it. As for your being a coward" 
 she laughed softly "it's impossible quite impossible 
 to make me believe that." 
 
 He laid his fingers over hers for a moment. 
 
 "Nice of you to have confidence in a chap and all 
 that, but appearances are against me that's the dif- 
 ficulty." 
 
 "Why are they against you? Why should they be 
 against you? Because you " She stopped, for 
 here she felt that she was approaching dangerous 
 ground. Instead of parleying lynger, she used her 
 woman's weapons frankly and leaning toward him put 
 an arm around his neck and compelled him to turn 
 his face to hers. "Oh, Cyril, won't you tell me what this 
 mystery is that is coming between us? Won't you let 
 me help you? I want to be in the sunlight with you 
 again. It can't go on this way, one of us in the dark 
 and the other in the light. I have felt it for weeks. 
 When I spoke to you tonight about going to France it 
 
 35
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 was in the hope that you might give me some explana- 
 tion that would satisfy me. My heart is wrapped up 
 in the cause of England, but if the German blood in 
 you is calling you away from your duties as an Eng- 
 lishman, tell me frankly and I will try to forgive you, 
 but don't let the shadow stay over us any longer, Cyril. 
 I must know the truth. What is the mystery that 
 hangs over you and makes " 
 
 "Mystery?" he put in quickly. "You're a bit seedy, 
 Doris. Thinkin' too much about the war. Nothin' 
 mysterious about me." He turned his head away from 
 her again. "People don't like my sittin' tight here 
 in England," he said more slowly, "when all the chaps 
 I know are off to the front. I I can't help it. That's 
 all." 
 
 "But it's so unlike you," she pleaded. "It's the 
 sporting thing, Cyril." 
 
 "I want you to believe," he put in slowly, "it isn't 
 the kind of sport I care for." 
 
 "I won't believe it. I can't. I know you better than 
 that." 
 
 "That's the trouble," he insisted. "I'm afraid you 
 don't know me at all." 
 
 "I don't know you tonight," she said sadly. "It 
 almost seems as though you were trying to get rid 
 of me." 
 
 He clasped her tightly in his arms and kissed her 
 gently. 
 
 "God forbid," he muttered. 
 
 "Then tell me what it is that is worrying you," she 
 whispered. "Not a living soul shall ever know. What 
 were the threats of exposure that passed between you 
 and Rizzio. He can't bear you any illwill because I 
 chose you instead of him. I didn't mean to listen bilt
 
 RICE-PAPERS 
 
 I couldn't help it. What was the menace in his tone 
 to you? What is the danger that hangs over you that 
 puts you in his power? It's my right to know. Tell 
 me, Cyril. Tell me." 
 
 She felt the pressure of the arm around her relax 
 and the sudden rigidity of his whole body as he drew 
 away. 
 
 "I think you must have been mistaken in what 
 you say you heard," he said evenly. "I told you that 
 it was a personal matter a club matter in which you 
 couldn't possibly be interested." 
 
 They were speaking formally now, almost as stran- 
 gers. She felt the indifference in his tone and couldn't 
 restrain the bitterness that rose in hers. 
 
 "One gentleman doesn't threaten a club-mate with 
 exposure in a club matter unless unless he has done 
 something discreditable something dishonorable " 
 
 The Honorable Cyril bent his head. 
 
 "You have guessed," he said. "He he is jealous. 
 He wants to humiliate me." 
 
 She laughed miserably. "Then why did you threaten 
 him?" 
 
 "I had to defend myself." 
 
 "You! Dishonorable! I'll have to have proofs of 
 that. What are the papers you have that he wants? 
 And what is there incriminating in Rizzio's card-case? 
 You see, I heard everything." 
 
 "What else did you hear?" he asked quickly. 
 
 She drew away from him and sank back heavily in 
 her corner. 
 
 "Nothing," she muttered. "Isn't that enough?" 
 
 It seemed to the girl as though her companion's 
 figure relaxed a little. And he turned toward her 
 gently. 
 
 37
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "Don't bother about me. I'm not worth bothering 
 about. The worst of it is that I can't make any ex- 
 planation at least any that will satisfy you. All I 
 ask is that you have patience with me if you can, trust 
 me if you can, and try to forget try to forget what 
 you have heard. If you should mention my conver-j 
 sation with Rizzio it might lead to grave consequences 
 for him for me." 
 
 The girl listened as though in a nightmare, the 
 suspicions that had been slowly gathering in her brain 
 throughout the evening now focusing upon him from 
 every incident with a persistence that was not to be 
 denied. The shape sat between them again, more tan- 
 gible, more cold and cruel than before. All his ex- 
 cuses, all his explanations gave it substance and re- 
 ality. The phantom of their dead hopes it had been 
 before now it was something more sinister some- 
 thing that put all thoughts of the Cyril she knew from 
 her mind the shade of Judas fawning for his pieces 
 of silver a pale Judas in a monocle . . . She closed 
 her eyes again and tried to think. Cyril! It was 
 unbelievable . . . And a moment ago he had kissed 
 her. She felt again the touch of his lips on her fore- 
 head ... It seemed as though she too were being 
 betrayed. 
 
 "You ask something very difficult of me," she stam- 
 mered chokingly. 
 
 "I can only ask," he said, "and only hope that you'll 
 take my word for its importance." 
 
 She shivered in her corner. The sound of his voice 
 was so impersonal, so different from the easy banter- 
 ing tone to which she was accustomed, that it seemed 
 that what he had said was true that she did not know 
 him. 
 
 38
 
 RICE-PAPERS 
 
 Another surprise awaited her, for he leaned forward, 
 peering into the mirror beside the wind shield in front 
 of Stryker and turned and looked quickly out of the 
 rear window of the car. Then she heard his voice in 
 quick peremptory notes through the speaking-tube. 
 
 "There's a car behind us. Lose it." 
 
 The driver touched his cap and she felt the machine 
 leap forward. The thin stream of light far in front 
 of them played on the gray road and danced on the 
 dim facades of unlighted houses which emerged from 
 the obscurity, slid by and were lost again as the car 
 twisted and turned, rocking from side to side, moving 
 ever more rapidly toward the open country to the 
 north. The dark corners of cross streets menaced 
 for a moment and were gone. A reflector gleamed from 
 one, but they went by it without slowing, the signal 
 shrieking. A flash full upon them, a sound of voices 
 cursing in the darkness and the danger was passed! 
 At the end of a long piece of straight road Cyril 
 turned again and reached for the speaking-tube. But 
 his voice was quite cool. 
 
 "They're coming on. Faster, Stryker." 
 
 And faster they went. They had reached the region 
 of semi-detached villas and the going was good. The 
 road was a narrow ribbon of light reeling in upon its 
 spool with frightful rapidity. The machine was a 
 fine one and its usual well-ordered purr had grown 
 into a roar which seemed to threaten immediate dis- 
 ruption. 
 
 Doris sat rigidly, clutching at the door sill and seat 
 trying to adjust her braced muscles to the task of 
 keeping upright. But a jolt of the car tore her grasp 
 loose and threw her into Cyril's arms and there he 
 held her steadily. She was too disturbed to resist, and 
 
 39
 
 lay quietly, conscious of the strength of the long arms 
 that enfolded her and aware in spite of herself of a 
 sense of exhilaration and triumph. Triumph with 
 Cyril! What triumph over whom? It didn't seem 
 to matter just then whom he was trying to escape. 
 She seemed very safe in his arms and very contented 
 though the car rocked ominously, while its headlight 
 whirled drunkenly in a wild orbit of tossed shadows. 
 The sportswoman in her responded to the call of speed, 
 the chance of accident, the danger of capture for she 
 felt sure now that there was a danger to Cyril. Over 
 her shoulder she saw the lights of the pursuing ma- 
 chine, glowing unblinkingly as though endowed with a 
 persistence which couldn't know failure. Under the 
 light of an incandescent she saw that its lines were 
 those of a touring-car and realized the handicap of 
 the heavy car with its limousine body. But Stryker 
 was doing his best, running with a wide throttle pick- 
 ing his road with a skill which would have done credit 
 to Cyril himself. The heath was already behind them. 
 At Hendon, having gained a little, Stryker put out his 
 lights and turned into a by-road hoping to slip away 
 in the darkness, but as luck would have it the moon 
 was bright and in a moment they saw the long spoke of 
 light swing in behind them. 
 
 "Good driver, that Johnny," she heard her compan- 
 ion say in a note of admiration to Stryker. "Have 
 to run for it again." 
 
 The road was not so good here and they lost time 
 without the searchlights, so Stryker turned them on 
 again. This evasion of the straight issue of speed had 
 been a confession of weakness and the other car seemed 
 to realize it, for it came on at increased speed which 
 shortened the distance so that the figures of th'* occu- 
 
 40
 
 RICE-PAPERS 
 
 pants of the other were plainly discernible, five men in 
 all, huddled low. 
 
 A good piece of road widened the distance. The 
 limousine, now thoroughly warmed, was doing the best 
 that she was capable of and the tires Cyril told her 
 were all new. Her question seemed to give him an idea, 
 for he reached for the flower vase and, thrusting out 
 a hand, jerked it back into the road. 
 
 "A torn tire might help a little," he said. 
 
 But the fellow behind swerved and came faster. 
 
 It was now a test of metal. Their pursuer lagged a 
 little on the levels but caught them on the grades and, 
 barring an accident, it was doubtful whether they 
 would reach the gates of Ashwater Park safely. She 
 heard a reflection of this in Cyril's voice as he shouted 
 through the open front window. 
 
 "How far by the road, Stryker?" 
 
 "Five miles, I'd say, sir." 
 
 "Give her all she can take." 
 
 Stryker nodded and from a hill crest they seemed to 
 soar into space. The car shivered and groaned like a 
 stricken thing, but kept on down the hill without the 
 touch of a brake. They crossed a bridge, rattled from 
 side to side. Cyril steadied the girl in his arms and 
 held her tight. 
 
 "Are you frightened?" he asked her. 
 
 "No. But what is it all about?" 
 
 Her companion glanced back to where the long 
 beams of light were searching their dust. When he 
 turned toward her his face was grave. He held her 
 closely for a moment, peering into her eyes. 
 
 "Will you help me, Doris ?" she heard him say. 
 
 "But how? What can I do, Cyril?" 
 
 He hesitated again, glancing over his shoulder- 
 4 41
 
 "Bally nuisance to have to drive you like this. 
 
 Wouldn't do it if it wasn't most important 
 
 "Yes " 
 
 "They want something I've got 
 
 "Papers?" 
 
 "You'll laugh when I tell you. Most amusin' cig- 
 arette papers!" 
 
 "Cigarette " 
 
 "That's all. I give you my word. Here they are." 
 And reaching down into his trousers pocket he pro- 
 duced a little yellow packet. "Cigarette papers, that's 
 all. These chaps must be perishin' for a smoke. 
 What?" he laughed. 
 
 "But I don't understand." 
 
 "It isn't necessary that you should. Take my word 
 for it, won't you ? It's what they want. And I'm j oily 
 determined they're not goin' to get it." 
 
 "You want me to help you? How?" 
 
 He looked back again and the lights behind them 
 found a reflection in his eyes. If, earlier in the even- 
 ing she had hoped to see him fully awake, she had her 
 wish now. He was quite cool and ready to take an 
 amused view of things, but in his coolness she felt a 
 new power, an inventiveness, a readiness to resort to 
 extremes to baffle his pursuers. Her apprehension 
 had grown with the moments. Who were these men in 
 the touring-car? Special agents of Scotland Yard? 
 She had never been so doubtful nor so proud of him. 
 Weighed in the balance of emotion the woman in her 
 decided it. She caught at his hand impulsively. 
 
 "Yes, I'll help if I can whatever comes." 
 
 He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them 
 gently. 
 
 "Thank God," he muttered. "I knew you would." 
 
 42
 
 RICE-PAPERS 
 
 He looked over his shoulder and then peered out in 
 search of familiar land-marks. They had passed Can- 
 ons Hill and swung into the main road to Watford. If 
 they reached there safely they would get to Ashwater 
 Park which was but a short distance beyond. 
 
 She heard him speaking again and felt something 
 thrust into the palm of her hand. 
 
 "Take this," he said. "It's what they want. They 
 mustn't get it." 
 
 "But who are they?" 
 
 "I don't know. Except that they've been sent by 
 Rizzio." 
 
 "Rizzio!" 
 
 "Yes. He's not with them. This sort of game re- 
 quires chaps of a different type." 
 
 "You mean that they " 
 
 "Oh, don't be alarmed. They won't hurt me and of 
 course they won't hurt you. I'm going to get you out 
 of the way with this. My success depends on you. 
 We'll drive past the Park entrance close to wicket 
 gate in the hedge near the house. Just as we stop, 
 jump out, run through and hide among the shrubbery. 
 Your cloak is dark. They won't see you. When 
 they're gone, make your way to the house. It's a 
 chance, but I've got to take it." 
 
 "And you?" she faltered. 
 
 "I'll get away. Don't worry. But the packet. 
 Whatever happens don't let them get the packet." 
 
 "No," she said in a daze, "I won't." 
 
 "Keep it for me, until I come. But don't examine 
 
 it. It's quite unimportant to anybody but me 
 
 he laughed, "that is, anybody but Rizzio." 
 
 She stared straight in front of her trying to think, 
 but thought seemed impossible. The speed had got 
 
 43
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 into her blood and she was mastered by a spirit 
 stronger tha,n her own. He held her in his arms again 
 and she gloried in the thought that she could help 
 him. Whatever his cause, her heart and soul were 
 in it. 
 
 They roared into Watford and, turning sharp to 
 the left, took the road to Croxley Green. The machine 
 hadn't missed a spark but the touring-car was creeping 
 up was so close that its lights were blinding them. 
 Hammersley leaned forward and gave a hurried order 
 to Stryker. They passed the Park gates at full speed 
 the wicket gate was a quarter of a mile beyond. 
 Would they make it? The touring-car was roaring up 
 alongside but Stryker jockeyed it into the gutter. 
 Voices were shouting and Doris got the gleam of some- 
 thing in the hand of a tall figure standing up in the 
 other car. There followed shots four of them and 
 an ominous sound came from somewhere underneath as 
 the limousine limped forward. 
 
 "It's our right rear tire," said Stryker. 
 
 "Have we a spare wheel," she heard Cyril say. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "When we stop put it on as quick as you can. A 
 hundred yards. Easy so and we're there, Stryker. 
 Now. Over to the left and give 'em the road. Quick ! 
 Now stop !" 
 
 The other machine came alongside at their right and 
 the men jumped down just as Cyril threw open the 
 left-hand door and Doris leaped out and went through 
 the gate in the hedge.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 DANGEROUS SECRETS 
 
 ONCE within the borders of her father's estate 
 and hidden in a clump of bushes near the 
 hedge, all idea of flight left Doris's head. She 
 was home and the familiar scene gave her confidence. 
 From the middle of her clump of bushes grew a spruce 
 tree, and into it she quickly climbed until she reached a 
 point where she could see the figures in the road beside 
 the quivering machines. She had not been followed. 
 The five men were gathered around Cyril, who was 
 protesting violently at the outrage. They had not 
 missed her yet. Stryker was on his knees beside the 
 stricken wheel. 
 
 "Come, now," she heard the leader saying, "you're 
 not to be hurt if you'll give 'em up." 
 
 "Why, old chap, you're mad," Cyril was saying 
 coolly. "I was thinkin' you wanted my watch. You 
 chase me twenty miles in the dead of night and then 
 ask me for cigarette papers. You're chaffin' what?" 
 
 "You'll find out soon enough," said the tall man 
 gruffly. "Off with his coat, Jim . . . Now search 
 him." 
 
 Cyril made no resistance. Doris could see his face 
 quite plainly. He was smiling. 
 
 "Rum go, this," he said with a puzzled air. "I only 
 smoke made cigarettes, you know." 
 
 But they searched him thoroughly, even taking off 
 his shoes. 
 
 45
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 "I say, stop it," she heard him laugh. "You're 
 ticklin'." 
 
 "Shut up, d n you," said the tall man, with a 
 scowl. 
 
 "Right-o !" said Cyril, cheerfully. "But you're wast- 
 in' time." 
 
 They found that out in a while and the leader of 
 the men straightened. Suddenly he gave a sound of 
 triumph. 
 
 "The girl!" he cried and, rushing to the limousine, 
 threw open the door. 
 
 "Gone!" he shouted excitedly. "She can't be far. 
 Find her," 
 
 He rushed around the rear wheels of the limousine 
 and for the first time spied the gate in the hedge. 
 
 "Tricked, by God! In after her, some of you." 
 
 "It won't do a bit of good," remarked Cyril. He 
 was sitting in the dirt of the middle of the road near 
 the front wheels of the machines. "She doesn't smoke, 
 o' chap. Bad taste, I call it, gettin' a lady mixed up 
 in a hunt for cigarettes. Besides she's almost home by 
 this. The house isn't far. She lives there, you know." 
 
 In her tree Doris trembled. She was well screened 
 by the branches and she heard the crackle of footsteps 
 in the dry leaves as the searchers beat the bushes be- 
 low her, but they passed on, following the path toward 
 the house. As the sounds diminished in the distance 
 she saw Cyril still seated on the ground leaning against 
 the front wheels of the touring-car while he argued and 
 cajoled the men nearest him. Helping himself by a 
 wheel as he arose he faced the tall man who had come 
 up waving his revolver and uttering wild threats. 
 
 "It won't help matters calling me a lot of names," 
 said Cyril, brushing the dust from his clothes. "You 
 
 46
 
 DANGEROUS SECRETS 
 
 want something I haven't got that's flat. I hope 
 you're satisfied." 
 
 "Not yet. They'll bring the girl in a minute. She 
 can't have gone far." 
 
 Cyril glanced around him carelessly and brushed 
 his clothes again. 
 
 He had discovered that Stryker had put on the 
 spare wheel and was parleying with one of their cap- 
 tors. 
 
 "Oh, very well. Have your way. What more can 
 I do for you? If you don't mind I'd like to be go- 
 ing on." 
 
 "You'll wait for the girl here." 
 
 Doris watched Stryker skulking along in the shadow 
 of the limousine. She saw him reach his seat, heard a 
 grinding of the clutches and a confused scuffle out of 
 which, his blond hair disheveled, his shoulders coatless, 
 Cyril emerged and leaped for the running-board of 
 the moving machine. 
 
 "You forgot to search the limousine," she heard him 
 shout. 
 
 The tall man scrambled to his knees and fired at the 
 retreating machine while the others jumped for the 
 touring-car. 
 
 It had no sooner begun to move than there was a 
 sound of escaping air and an oath from the chauffeur. 
 
 "A puncture," someone said. And Doris heard a 
 volley of curses which spoke eloquently of the sharp- 
 ness of Cyril's pocket-knife. 
 
 Doris in her hiding-place breathed a sigh of relief. 
 Cyril had gotten safely off, and his last words had cre- 
 ated a diversion in the camp of the enemy. They were 
 working furiously at the tire, but she knew that the 
 chance of coming up with Cyril again that night was- 
 
 47
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 gone. Now that the affair had resulted so favorably 
 to Cyril she began to regret her imprudence in remain- 
 ing to see the adventure to its end. Cyril had played 
 for time, and if she had followed his instructions she 
 could have gotten far enough away to have eluded her 
 pursuers. By this time, in all probability, she would 
 have been safe beneath the parental roof. The worst 
 of it was that Cyril thought her safe. The packet in 
 her glove burned in her hand. Beneath her, some- 
 where between her refuge and the house were two men, 
 and how to pass them with her precious possession be- 
 came now the sole object of her thoughts. Cyril had 
 told her that the packet must under no circumstances 
 fall into the hands of their pursuers and the desperate- 
 ness of his efforts to elude them gave her a renewed 
 sense of her importance as an instrument for good or 
 ill in Cyril's cause whatever it might be. Now that 
 Cyril had gone she felt singularly helpless and small 
 in the face of such odds. For a moment she thought 
 of hiding the packet in the crotch of one of the 
 branches where she might come and reclaim it at her 
 leisure and go down and run the chance of being taken 
 without it. But the unpleasantness which might re- 
 sult from such an encounter deterred her, and so she 
 sat, her chilly ankles depending, awaiting she knew not 
 what. She had almost reconciled herself to the thought 
 of spending several hours in this uncomfortable posi- 
 tion when the tall man in the road blew a blast on a 
 sporting whistle and soon the passing of footsteps 
 through the gate advised her that the men inside the 
 grounds had returned. 
 
 This was her opportunity, and without waiting to 
 listen she dropped quietly down on the side of the tree 
 away from the gate and, stealing furtively along in 
 
 48
 
 DANGEROUS SECRETS 
 
 the shadow of the hedge, made her way as quickly as 
 possible in the direction of the house. Out of breath 
 with exercise and excitement, when she reached a patch 
 of trees at the edge of the lawn, she stopped and looked 
 behind her. Then she blessed her luck in coming down 
 when she did, for she saw the thin ray of a pocket 
 light gleaming like a will-o'-the-wisp in her place of 
 concealment and knew that the search for her was 
 still on. 
 
 Fear lent her caution. She skirted the edge of the 
 wide lawn in the shadow of the trees, running like a deer 
 across the moonlit spaces, always keeping the masses 
 of evergreens between her and the wicket gate until 
 she reached the flower garden, where she paused a mo- 
 ment to get her breath. A patch of moonlight lay be- 
 tween her and the entrance and the hedge was impene- 
 trable. There was no other way. She bent low and 
 hurried forward, trusting to the good fortune that 
 had so far aided her. Halfway across the open she 
 heard a shout and knew that she had been seen. 
 
 There was nothing for it but to run straight for the 
 house. So catching her skirts up above her knees and 
 scorning the garden path which would have taken her 
 a longer way, she made straight for the terrace, the 
 main door of which she knew had been left open for her 
 return. Across the wide lawn in the bright moonlight 
 she ran, her heart throbbing madly, the precious yel- 
 low packet clutched tightly against her palm. Out 
 of the tail of her eye she saw dark forms emerge from 
 the bushes and run diagonally for the terrace steps in 
 the hope of intercepting her. But she was fast, and 
 she blessed her tennis for the wind and muscle to stand 
 the strain. She was much nearer her goal than her 
 pursuers, but they came rapidly, their bulk looming 
 
 49
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 larger every moment. She saw the lights and knew 
 that servants were at hand. Her father, too, was in 
 the library, for she saw the glow of his reading-lamp. 
 She had only to shout for help now and someone would 
 hear her. She tried to, but not a sound came from her 
 parching throat. With a last effort she raced up the 
 terrace steps, pushed open the heavy door and shut 
 and bolted it quickly behind her. Then sank into the 
 nearest piece of furniture in a state of physical col- 
 lapse. 
 
 Doris Mather did not faint, an act which might 
 readily have been forgiven her under the circumstances. 
 Her nerves were shaken by the violence of her exercise 
 and the narrowness of her escape, and it was some mo- 
 ments before she could reply to the anxious questions 
 that were put to her. Then she answered evasively, 
 peering through the windows at the moonlit lawn and 
 seeing no sign of her pursuers. In a few moments she 
 drank a glass of water and took the arm of Wilson, 
 her maid, up the stairway to her rooms, after giving 
 orders to the servants that her father was not to be 
 told anything except that she had come in very tired 
 and had gone directly to bed. 
 
 For the present at least Cyril's packet was safe. 
 In her dressing-room Wilson took off her cloak and 
 helped her into bedroom slippers, not, however, with- 
 out a comment on the bedraggled state of her dinner 
 dress and the shocking condition of her slippers. But 
 Doris explained with some care that Mr. Hammersley's 
 machine had had a blow-out near the wicket gate, that 
 she had become frightened and had run all the way 
 across the lawn. All of which was true. It didn't 
 explain Mr. Hammersley's deficiencies as an escort, 
 but Wilson was too well trained to presume further. 
 
 50
 
 DANGEROUS SECRETS 
 
 A little sherry and a biscuit and Doris revived rap- 
 idly. While the maid drew her bath she locked Cyril's 
 cigarette papers in the drawer of the desk in her bed- 
 room, and when she was bathed and ready for the 
 night she dismissed Wilson to her dressing-room to 
 wait within call until she had gone to bed. 
 
 Alone with her thoughts, her first act was to turn 
 out her lights and kneel in the window where she could 
 peer .out through the hangings. It was inconceivable 
 that her pursuers would dare to make any attempt 
 upon the house, but even now she wondered whether it 
 would not have been wiser if she had taken her father 
 into her confidence and had the gardeners out to keep 
 an eye open for suspicious characters. But the mo- 
 tives that had kept her silent downstairs in the hall 
 were even stronger with her now. She could not have 
 borne to discuss with her father, who had an extraordi- 
 nary talent for getting at the root of difficulties, the 
 subject of Cyril's questionable packet of cigarette 
 papers. She was quite sure, from the adventure which 
 had befallen them tonight, and the mystery with which 
 Cyril had chosen to invest the article committed to 
 her care, that Cyril himself would not have approved 
 of any course which would have brought the packet or 
 his own actions into the light of publicity. 
 
 The packet of cigarette papers ! With a last scru- 
 tiny of the landscape she pulled the shades and hang- 
 ings so that no ray of light could reach the outside of 
 the house, then groped her way across the room. A 
 thin line of light beneath the door of her dressing- 
 room showed that Wilson was still there. So she took 
 the precaution of locking that door as well as the oth- 
 ers leading to the upstairs hall, then went to her desk 
 and turned on her lamp. She unlocked the drawer of 
 
 51
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 the desk and taking the small object gingerly in her 
 fingers, scrutinized it carefully. It was yellow in 
 color, quite new, bound with a small rubber band, a 
 very prosaic, a very harmless looking object to have 
 caused so much excitement and trouble to all who had 
 been concerned about it. She turned it over and 
 stretched its rubber band, snapping it thoughtfully 
 two or three times. Now for the first time since Cyril 
 had given it to her did she permit herself to think of 
 the hidden meanings the thing might possess. In the 
 machine, during the chase Cyril had won her unre- 
 servedly to his side. As against the mysterious men 
 of John Rizzio Cyril's cause had been the only one to 
 be considered. She had been carried off her feet and 
 there hadn't been time to think of anything but the 
 real necessity of acceding to Cyril's wishes in getting 
 the small object to a place of safety. Then it had only 
 been a packet of cigarette papers a mere package of 
 Riz-la-Croix which everybody, for some reason or 
 other, seemed to want. Now, weighed lightly in her 
 hand, the seclusion of her room gave it a different 
 character. She recalled Cyril's bantering tone at hav- 
 ing been chased twenty miles for a cigarette. But his 
 attitude deceived Doris no more than it had his pur- 
 suers. There was material here for something more 
 deadly than cigarettes. She took the yellow packet 
 in both hands and pressed it to her temples as though 
 by this act she could pass its secrets into her own 
 brain. In spite of herself she was frightfully curious 
 and frightfully afraid. 
 
 She got up and paced the floor rapidly. No it 
 couldn't go on. She must know the truth. As the key 
 of the one unopened room fascinated Blue Beard's wife, 
 as the box fascinated Pandora, so this unopened yellow 
 
 52
 
 DANGEROUS SECRETS 
 
 packet plagued a'jd fascinated Doris Mather. She 
 hesitated another long moment and then slipped off the 
 rubber band and opened it, trembling so that the first 
 leaf of paper came out in her fingers and fell to the 
 floor. She picked the paper up and examined it min- 
 utely, holding it up to the light. There was nothing 
 unusual about it, no mark, no sign of any kind that 
 might indicate a secret mission. Leaf by leaf, slowly 
 at first and then more rapidly she went through the 
 leaves, examining each page back and front, without 
 success. It was not until she was almost half through 
 it that she came, upon the writing four pages written 
 lengthways in ink with a line too fine almost for legi- 
 bility. 
 
 She put the packet down for a moment, her heart 
 throbbing with excitement and incredulity, too appre- 
 hensive to read, in mortal dread of a revelation which 
 was to change the whole course of her life and Cyril's. 
 There was still time to close the book and go to bed. 
 Why did she sit there holding the thing open, stupidly 
 gazing at nothing? If Cyril 
 
 Yes, if Cyril was the unspeakable thing of her 
 doubts, it was time that she knew it and no compunc- 
 tions of honor should hold her with such a man. Be- 
 sides she had promised him nothing. Hesitating no 
 longer, she held the leaves under the light of her lamp 
 and slowly deciphered the thin script. 
 
 At first she could make little of it, as it seemed to 
 consist of numerals which she couldn't understand, 
 but here and there she made out the names of towns, 
 the names of regiments familiar to her and a series of 
 dates, beginning in March and ending in May. As the 
 meaning of the writing grew clearer to her, she read 
 on, her eyes distended with horror. Even a child could 
 
 53
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 have seen that this was a list of the British forces 
 under arms, the proposed dates for the completion of 
 their equipment, training and departure for France. 
 When she had finished reading the written pages, her 
 inert fingers slowly turned the blank papers over to 
 the end. There was nothing more. God knows it was 
 enough! Cyril the Honorable Cyril a spy of the 
 Germans ! 
 
 She sank low in her armchair, her senses numb from 
 the horror of the revelation. Her thoughts became 
 confused like those of a sick person awaking from a 
 nightmare to a half consciousness, peopled with 
 strange beautiful images doing the dark things of 
 dreams. Cyril her Cyril a spy! 
 
 What would happen now. And which way did duty 
 lie? Toward England or toward Cyril? She sat 
 crouched on the floor in an agony of misery at the 
 thought of Cyril's baseness, the package of paper 
 clenched in her hand, trying to think clearly for Eng- 
 land, for Cyril, for herself, but the longer she battled 
 the deeper became her desperation and despair. 
 
 The world seemed to be slipping away from her, the 
 orderly arrangement of her thoughts was twisted and 
 distorted so that wrong had become right and right 
 wrong. She had lost her standard of judgment. She 
 did not know which way to turn, so she bent her head 
 forward into her hands and silently prayed. There 
 seemed to be nothing else to do. For a long while she 
 remained prostrate by the window, her brain tortured, 
 her body stiff with weariness, until she could think no 
 more. Then slowly and painfully she rose and, still 
 clutching the yellow packet, groped her way to bed, 
 into which she fell exhausted in mind and body.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE PURSUIT CONTINUES 
 
 AT eight o'clock Doris was awakened by a loud 
 knocking on the door leading to her dressing- 
 room. She had slept the sleep of utter ex- 
 haustion and aroused herself with difficulty, a little be- 
 wildered at the unusual sounds. Then she dimly re- 
 membered locking the door and got quickly out of bed, 
 put the yellow packet in the drawer of her desk and 
 pushed back the bolt of the door. 
 
 To her surprise her father confronted her and be- 
 hind him were other members of the family in various 
 stages of their morning toilets. 
 
 "Thank the Lord," said David Mather with a sigh 
 of relief. 
 
 "What on earth is the matter?" asked the girl, 
 glancing from one to the other in alarm. 
 
 Her father laughed. "Oh, nothing, now that you're 
 all right. Burglars, that's all." 
 
 Doris's heart stopped beating as in a flash of re- 
 viving memory the incidents of the night before came 
 quickly back to her. 
 
 "Burglars !" she stammered. 
 
 "Yes, they got in here came up the water spout," 
 pointing to the dressing-room window, "and a fine mess 
 they made of things. You'll have to take account of 
 stock, child, and see how you stand." 
 
 She glanced around the disordered room, very much 
 alarmed. The drawers of her cupboards were all 
 
 55
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 pulled out and their contents scattered about on the 
 floor. 
 
 "When did did it happen?" she asked timorously, 
 more because she had to say something than because 
 that was what she wanted to know. 
 
 "Some time before dawn," said her father. "Wil- 
 son was here until three thinking that you might want 
 her and then went out to her own room in the wing." 
 
 "Yes, I remember," said the girl, passing her hand 
 across her eyes. "I wasn't feeling very well so I 
 asked her to stay here for a while. But I can't under- 
 stand why I didn't wake." 
 
 "That's what frightened us," Cousin Tom broke in. 
 "We were afraid the snoozers might have got in to 
 you " 
 
 "It's lucky you had your door locked." 
 
 "They were at my library desk, too," she heard her 
 father saying. "Must have gone down the hall from 
 here. But so far as I can see, they didn't get any- 
 thing." 
 
 Her Aunt Sophia gasped a sigh. 
 
 "Thank the Lord," she put in reverently. "At least 
 we're all safe and sound." 
 
 Stunned at the daring of Rizzio's men and bewil- 
 dered by the persistence with which they had followed 
 their quest while she was sleeping, Doris managed to 
 formulate a quick plan to hide the meaning of this 
 intrusion from the members of her family. 
 
 She had been examining the disordered contents of 
 the upper drawers of a bureau. 
 
 "My jewel case, fortunately, I keep in my bed- 
 room," she said, "but there was an emerald brooch to 
 be repaired which I put in this drawer yesterday. It's 
 gone." 
 
 56
 
 THE PURSUIT CONTINUES 
 
 She saw a puzzled look come into the eyes of Wilson, 
 who stood near the window, and a glance passed be- 
 tween them. 
 
 "Oh, well," her father said as he turned toward the 
 door, "we're lucky it wasn't worse. I'm 'phoning to 
 Watford for a constable." 
 
 This was what Doris had feared and yet she could 
 not protest. So she shut her lips firmly and let them 
 go out of the room, leaving her alone with Wilson. 
 
 She knew that the woman was devoted to her and 
 that she was not in the habit of talking belowstairs, 
 but her mistress had seen the look of incredulity in the 
 woman's eyes last night and the puzzled expression a 
 moment ago which indicated a suspicion connecting 
 Doris's arrival in the Hall with the mysterious en- 
 trance of the dressing-room. Doris knew that she 
 must tell her something that would satisfy her curi- 
 osity. 
 
 "My bath please, Wilson," she said coolly in order 
 to gain time. "And say nothing, you understand." 
 
 "Of course, Miss Mather," said Wilson, with her 
 broad Kentish smile. "I wouldn't ha' dreamed of it." 
 
 The cool water refreshed and invigorated the girl, 
 and she planned skillfully. By the time Wilson 
 brought her breakfast tray she had already wrapped 
 the yellow packet of cigarette papers and her Cousin 
 Tom's tobacco pouch in a pair of silk stockings sur- 
 rounded by many thicknesses of paper and in a dis- 
 guised handwriting had addressed it to Lady Heath- 
 cote at her place in Scotland. She had also written 
 a note to Betty advising her of a change in plans and 
 of her intention to come to her upon the following day, 
 asking in a postscript twice underlined to keep a cer- 
 tain package addressed to her and carefully described 
 5 57
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 safely under lock and key for her without opening 
 until her arrival. She would explain later. 
 
 A gleam of hope had penetrated to her through the 
 gloom that encompassed her thoughts only a gleam 
 at the best, but it was enough to give her courage to go 
 on with her efforts to save Cyril from immediate dan- 
 ger. And this was the belief born of the forcible and 
 secret entry of the house that the men who were in 
 pursuit of the fateful packet were not in any way con- 
 nected with Scotland Yard or the War Office. Other- 
 wise if they believed the papers to be in her possession 
 they would have come boldly in the light of day and 
 demanded of her father the right to search the house. 
 These were not times when the War Office hesitated in 
 matters which concerned the public interest. John 
 Rizzio, for some reason which she could not fathom, 
 was acting upon his own initiative with a desire as 
 urgent as Cyril's to keep his object secret. 
 
 She pondered those things for a long while and then 
 with a sigh of uncertainty dismissed them from her 
 thoughts, which were too full of the immediate neces- 
 sity to carry out her carefully formulated plans. First 
 she called Wilson and after assuring herself that she 
 was making no mistake, took her partially into confi- 
 dence, telling her of the important paper intrusted by 
 Mr. Hammersley to her care which it was to the in- 
 terest of other persons to possess and the necessity for 
 getting them safely out of the house. Her mistress's 
 confidences flattered the maid and she entered very 
 willingly into the affair, concealing the emerald brooch 
 which Doris produced from her jewel box, in a trunk 
 containing old clothes which had long stood neglected 
 in a dusty corner of the attic. 
 
 After the visit of the man from Watford, who went 
 
 58
 
 THE PURSUIT CONTINUES 
 
 over the situation with a puzzled brow and depart- 
 ed still puzzled, she confided to her father the let- 
 ter and package which were to be mailed from Lon- 
 don, the letter in the morning, the package not until 
 night. 
 
 "Don't fail me, daddy. It's very important " 
 
 she said as she kissed him. "It's a surprise for Betty, 
 but it mustn't get to Scotland until tomorrow night 
 
 at the earliest. And good-by " And she kissed 
 
 him again. "I'm going with it." 
 
 "Tonight?" 
 
 "Tomorrow." 
 
 Mr. Mather smiled and pinched her cheeks. He was 
 quite accustomed to sudden changes of plan on the 
 part of his daughter and would as soon have thought 
 of questioning them as he would the changes in the 
 weather. He hadn't liked the idea of her hunting or 
 playing polo, but she had done them both and cajoled 
 him into approving 1 of her. He had objected fearfully 
 when she went in for aviation, but had learned to watch 
 the flights of her little Nieuport with growing confi- 
 dence and had even erected a shed for her machines in 
 the meadow behind the stables. 
 
 "Take care of yourself," he said lightly. "You're 
 looking a little peaky lately. If you don't get rosier 
 I'll withdraw my ambulance corps." 
 
 She laughed. "Don't forget!" she flung after him 
 as he got into the car. 
 
 With the departure of the yellow packet a weight 
 had been lifted from Doris's mind. John Rizzio's men 
 might come now if they liked and she would invite 
 them to search the place. She was not in the least 
 afraid of herself, and she knew that the danger to 
 Cyril had passed at least for the present. 
 
 59
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 She hoped that Cjril wouldn't come today or tele- 
 phone her. She wanted time to think of what she 
 should say to him. At moments it even seemed as 
 though she didn't care if she ever saw him again. But 
 as the day passed and she had no word from him, she 
 grew anxious. What if Rizzio had told the War Of- 
 fice! 
 
 That night men from Watford kept a watch upon 
 the house, but there was no disturbance. Her watch- 
 ers had evidently taken the alarm. But it was in no 
 very certain or very happy state that Doris drove her 
 machine out of the gate of the Park in the later after- 
 noon of the next day with her cousin Tom beside her 
 and Wilson and the luggage in the rear seat. The 
 main road to London was empty of vehicles except for 
 a man on a motor-cycle just ahead of her bound in the 
 same direction. At least, she was no longer to be 
 watched. There was plenty of time, so she drove 
 leisurely, reaching Euston Station with twenty minutes 
 to spare. She sent a wire to Lady Heathcote and 
 then Tom saw her safely into her carriage. 
 
 The movement of the train soothed her and she 
 closed her eyes and slept, Wilson like a watchful Gor- 
 gon, guarding against intrusion. 
 
 There was but one incident which destroyed the 
 peace of the journey. Toward morning, Wilson, who 
 slept with one eye open, wakened her suddenly and 
 asked her quietly to look out of the window. Her 
 train had stopped at a large station, the platform of 
 which was well lighted. From the darkness of their 
 compartment she followed the direction of Wilson's 
 figure. Outside, pacing the platform and smoking 
 cigarettes, were two men. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Doris, half asleep. 
 
 60
 
 THE PURSUIT CONTINUES 
 
 "The big one," whispered Wilson excitedly. "It 
 was him that was ridin' the motor-cycle." 
 
 Doris remembered passing and repassing the vehicle 
 on the road to London, and the face of its driver came 
 back to her. She peered out at him eagerly and as 
 the man turned she saw the face and figure of the 
 larger man clearly. It was the motor-cycle man, and 
 in a rush the thought came to her that his figure and) 
 bearing were strangely familiar. 
 
 "It's true," she whispered, her fingers on Wilson's 
 arm. "We're followed. It's the same man. Last 
 night, too." 
 
 "Last night?" 
 
 "Yes. It's the man called Jim, who searched Mr. 
 Hammersley in the road." 
 
 "No," said Wilson, her eyes brightening. "You 
 don't say so, Miss Mather. Of all the brazen " 
 
 "Sh " said Doris. 
 
 But there was no more sleep for either of them that 
 night. Bolt upright, side by side, they watched the 
 dawn grow into sunrise and the sunrise into broad day. 
 They saw no more of the motor-cycle man and Doris 
 reassured herself that there was nothing to be feared 
 now that the packet was She started in affright. 
 The packet at Betty Heathcote's ! Perhaps at this very 
 moment lying innocently in Betty's post-box or in the 
 careless hands of some stupid Scotch gardener, or 
 worse yet inviting curiosity on Betty's desk or library 
 table. Her heart sank within her as she realized that 
 her brave plans might yet miscarry. 
 
 It was with a sense of joyous relief that the train 
 pulled at last into Innerwick Station. When she got 
 down she saw Betty Heathcote's yellow h/ake, the four 
 chestnuts restive in the keen moorland air, and look- 
 
 61
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 ing very youthful and handsome in a brown coat which 
 made the symphony complete, the lady herself, the 
 wind in her cheeks and in her cheery greeting. 
 
 "Of course, Doris, you're to be trusted to do some- 
 thing surprising. Oh, here's Jack Sandys you didn't 
 know, of course." 
 
 The sight of these familiar faces gave Doris re- 
 newed confidence, and when from the box seat she 
 glanced around in search of her pursuer he had dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 Sandys clambered up behind them. Wilson got into 
 the back seat with the grooms, the boxes went in be- 
 tween, and they were off. 
 
 [ "Constance was tired, Jack. At least she said she 
 jjwas. I really think that all she wanted was to disap- 
 point you. Nothing like disappointment. It breeds 
 aspiration. But," she added mischievously, "I'm sure 
 she's dying to see you. Awf'ly sad especially since 
 it's not quite forty-eight hours since you were waving 
 a tearful good-by in Euston Station." 
 
 "Did you get my package?" whispered Doris in her 
 ear, at the first opportunity. 
 
 "What package? Oh, yes, the stockings. It was 
 torn and awf'ly muddy. Higgins dropped it from the 
 dog-cart on the way over and had to go back for it. 
 Lucky he found it in the middle of the road. What 
 a silly thing to make such a mystery of. And the 
 cigarette papers you might be sure I'd have some- 
 thing to smoke at Kilmorack House. I can't under- 
 stand. You really could smoke here if you want to 
 without so much secrecy about it." 
 
 "I I didn't know," stammered the girl. "I I've 
 just taken it up and I thought you mightn't approve." 
 
 Betty glanced at her narrowly. 
 
 62
 
 THE PURSUIT CONTINUES 
 
 "Whatever ails you, child ? 7 disapprove ! You 
 know I smoke when I feel like it which isn't often." 
 
 The subject fortunately was turned when they 
 passed the road to Ben-a-Chielt. 
 
 "I always envied Cyril his cliffs. I love the sva and 
 Cyril hates it. 'So jolly restless,' " she mimicked him. 
 "Makes one 'quiggledy.' And there I am away in- 
 land five miles to the firth at the very nearest. But I 
 suppose," she sighed, "one has to overlook the de- 
 ficiencies of one's grandfather. If he had known I'd 
 have liked the sea, Cyril, of course, would have come 
 into my place." 
 
 With this kind of light chatter, of which Lady 
 Heathcote possessed a fund, their whip drove them 
 upon their way, her own fine spirits oblivious of the 
 silence of her companions. But at last she glanced 
 at them suspiciously. "If I didn't know that you were 
 both hopelessly in love with other persons, I'd think 
 you were epris of each other." 
 
 Doris laughed. 
 
 "We are. That's why we chose opposite ends of 
 the train." 
 
 But Sandys only smiled. 
 
 "Nothing that's happening makes a chap happy 
 nowadays. I bring bad news." 
 
 Lady Heathcote relaxed the reins so that one of 
 her leaders plunged madly, while her face went white. {; 
 
 "Not Algy " 
 
 "No, no forgive me. He's safe. I've kept watch 
 of the bulletins." 
 
 "Thank God!" said Lady Heathcote, and sent her 
 whiplash swirling over the ears of the erring leader. 
 
 "Not Algy Byfield " 
 
 "Byfield not dead ?" 
 
 63
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "No. Worse." 
 
 "What ?" 
 
 "In prison. He was taken into custody yesterday 
 afternoon as he was leaving the War Office. Orders 
 from <K.' " 
 
 "You can't mean that Richard Byfield is " 
 
 Sandys nodded quickly. 
 
 "Yes. He was one of the leaks a spy." 
 
 "A spy!" Betty Heathcote whispered in awestrick- 
 en tones. "A spy Dick! Horrible! I can't I 
 won't " 
 
 "Unfortunately there's not the least doubt about 
 jit. They found incriminating evidence at his 
 rooms." 
 
 "My God!" said Lady Heathcote. "What are 
 we coming to? Dick Byfield why, two nights 
 ago he was a guest at my table with you, and 
 you -" 
 
 Doris nodded faintly, the landscape swimming in a 
 dark mist before her eyes. Byfield Cyril Rizzio 
 all three had been at Lady Heathcote's dinner. Some- 
 thing had happened that night only a part of which 
 
 she knew. Byfield was arrested and Cyril She 
 
 clutched desperately at the edge of the seat and set 
 her jaw to keep herself from speaking Cyril's name. 
 
 "Were there any others?" she asked, with an 
 effort. 
 
 "None so far. But there must have been others. 
 God help them ! They won't get any mercy." 
 
 "But what made him do such a thing?" asked Betty. 
 "I could have sworn " 
 
 "Money lots of it. He wasn't very well off, you 
 Jcnow." 
 
 They were swinging over the ridge towards Kilmo- 
 
 64
 
 THE PURSUIT CONTINUES 
 
 rack House in a tragic silence mocked by the high ju- 
 bilant notes of the co^-ch horn which the groom was 
 winding to announce their approach. 
 
 Doris got down swiftly, summoning her courage to 
 be silent and wait. In the drawing-room when the 
 news was told, Constance Joyliffe added another note 
 of gloom. 
 
 "We're going to be a lively party," said Lady 
 Heathcote bitterly. "Thank the Lord, John Rizzio 
 ^s coming." 
 
 "Rizzio!" 
 
 Doris flashed around, her terror written so plainly 
 that anyone might read. 
 
 "Yes. I had his wire at Innerwick when I was wait- 
 ing for you." And then catching the girl by the arm, 
 '''Why, dear, what is the matter?" 
 
 "I I think I'll go up to my room if you don't 
 taind, Betty. I won't have any luncheon. A cup of 
 tea is all." She moved toward the door, her hand in 
 Lady Heathcote's. "And Betty the package, please 
 I I think it may soothe me to smoke." 
 
 Betty examined her quizzically but made no com- 
 ment, though she couldn't understand such a strange 
 proceeding in a girl who was accustomed to do ex- 
 actly as she pleased. She got the package from her 
 desk in the library and handed Doris the silk stockings, 
 tobacco, and the yellow packet. The wrapping paper 
 which had been soiled had been relegated to the scrap- 
 basket. 
 
 "And Betty " pleaded Doris as she quickly took 
 
 them, "promise me that you won't tell John Rizzio." 
 
 Lady Heathcote glanced at her quickly and then 
 laughed. 
 
 "I suppose I'm the least curious woman in Scot- 
 
 65
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 land," she laughed, "but I would really like to 
 know " 
 
 "Don't ask me, Betty," Doris pleaded. "I've a r 
 son a silly one, perhaps, but I ask you not to 
 speak of this to anyone." 
 
 "Oh, very well," said Lady Heathcote, "I won't. 
 But don't be mysterious. All mysteries nowadays are 
 looked on with suspicion. Even such an innocent lit- 
 tle mystery" and she laughed "as a package of cig- 
 arette papers." 
 
 Doris made some light reply and went to her room, 
 where, with the doors locked, she quickly examined the 
 packet to be sure that it had not been tampered with. 
 Nothing seemed to have been changed and she gave 
 a sigh of relief to think that thus far her secret had 
 escaped detection. It was very clear to her now that 
 John Rizzio had decided that the secret information 
 was in her possession and that his visit was planned 
 with the object of getting it away from her. This 
 should never be. By the light of the window she read 
 and re-read the thin script until the lines were etched 
 upon her memory. She would burn the papers if they 
 were in danger. If Cyril was to meet Captain By- 
 field's fate, it would be upon other evidence than this. 
 Her hands, at least with regard to Cyril, must be 
 clean. 
 
 A knock upon the door and she hurriedly thrust the 
 packet under a table cover and answered. It was the 
 maid with her tea, and upon the tray lay a note in an 
 unfamiliar handwriting. When the maid had gone 
 she tore the flap and read: 
 
 Mr. Hammersley begs that Miss Mather will not 
 be unduly alarmed upon his account. Business of 
 
 66
 
 THE PURSUIT CONTINUES 
 
 an urgent nature has detained him but he assures 
 her that he will join her at the earliest possible mo- 
 ment. He begs that she will be careful. 
 
 There was no signature and the handwriting was 
 
 | curious like none to which she was accustomed, but 
 
 ' the message seemed somehow to sound like Cyril. She 
 
 rang for the maid, questioned her, and found that the 
 
 note had just come over by messenger from Ben-a- 
 
 Chielt. 
 
 When the maid went down, Doris re-read the 
 message thankfully. Cyril was safe at least for the 
 present. And her relief in the knowledge was the true 
 measure of her relation to him. Whatever else he was, 
 he was the man she had promised to marry the man 
 who a little later would have been hers for better or 
 for worse. And between Cyril and John Rizzio it had 
 not been difficult to choose. It did not seem difficult 
 now. 
 
 She took up the packet of papers and paused be- 
 fore the open fire, a smile playing for the first time at 
 the corners of her lips. John Rizzio ! He was clever, 
 as she knew, but there was more than one way of play- 
 ing the game. Perhaps with her John Rizzio might 
 be at a disadvantage. She hesitated a moment and 
 then pulled up her skirts and slipped the yellow 
 packet into her stocking.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 RIZZIO TAKES CHARGE 
 
 RIZZIO was to arrive that night. Meanwhile^ 
 with the papers hidden about her and bright 
 fires burning in all the living-rooms of the 
 house in which they could in a moment be destroyed^ 
 Doris thought herself well placed upon the defensive* 
 Cyril's note had cheered her, and after removing the 
 dust of her journey she went down into the library^ 
 where she joined the other members of the house party 
 assembled. Black seemed to be the prevailing color, 
 for, in addition to the weeds of Lady Constance, there 
 was Wilfred Hammersley, Cyril's uncle, who had lost 
 an only son at La Bassee, and the Heatherington girls, 
 who had lost a brother. 
 
 "Ugh!" Lady Betty was saying 1 . "I came to Scot- 
 land to try and forget, but the war follows me. Dick 
 Byfield a traitor! Who next? Let's not even speak 
 of it. Come, I've ordered the brake, Doris. We're 
 going out for a spin. You and I and Angeline. Con- 
 stance of course has a headache, and Jack will be 
 having another for sympathy." 
 
 The air outside was life-giving, and when she re- 
 turned later Doris felt that her brain had been swept 
 clear of its cobwebs of perplexity. She found Wilson 
 standing in her room gazing with a puzzled expres- 
 sion at the tray of her unpacked box, the contents of 
 which were in a state of confusion. 
 
 "It's strange, Miss Mather. Someone has been at 
 
 68
 
 EIZZIO TAKES CHARGE 
 
 your things while I was down in the servants* hall at 
 luncheon." 
 
 "You're sure?" 
 
 "Yes, Miss Mather, sure. Quite positive, in fact. 
 Those waists were lying flat when I left." 
 
 "The window wasn't open?" asked Doris with a 
 glance around. 
 
 "Oh, no, Miss." She looked about and lowered her 
 voice. "It's somebody inside." 
 
 "Curious," said Doris thoughtfully. "Nothing has 
 been taken? Is the jewel box there?" 
 
 Together they examined the things and found that 
 nothing was missing. 
 
 "Say nothing about this, Wilson," said Doris 
 thoughtfully. "Unless something is taken, I shouldn't 
 care to disturb Lady Heathcote." 
 
 "It can't be ' Wilson paused, her voice hushed. 
 
 "The papers are safe, Wilson as long as I am 
 feafe," replied the girl, and told the maid of her place 
 of concealment. 
 
 Wilson looked dubious. "I wish you'd give them 
 to me, Miss Mather." 
 
 But the girl shook her head she was thoroughly 
 alive now to the perils which hung about her, here 
 within the very doors of Lady Heathcote's house, but 
 she had determined that if she could not find it pos- 
 sible to keep the papers until Cyril appeared she 
 would destroy them. She was not frightened, for how- 
 ever clumsy John Rizzio's agents might be she was 
 in no danger from himself. Whatever the interests 
 which made the possession of the yellow packet so 
 vital, she knew the man well enough to be sure that 
 if there came an issue between them, he would act with 
 her as he had always acted the part of a gentleman. 
 
 69
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 Instead of apprehension at his approaching visit 
 she now felt only interest and a kind of suppressed ex- 
 hilaration as at the prospect of a flight in a new plane 
 or the trying out of a green hunter excitement like 
 that which preceded all her sportive ventures. 
 
 So that when she met John Rizzio in the drawing- 
 room after dinner he had not been able to manage 
 a more opportune train she gave him a warm hand- 
 clasp of greeting and a smile which caused him some 
 surprise and not a little regret surprise that she was 
 carrying off a difficult situation with consummate ease ; 
 regret that such self-possession and artistry were not 
 to be added to the ornaments of his house in Berkley 
 Square. Perhaps still 
 
 "How agreeable," she was saying charmingly. "The 
 great man actually condescends to come to the land 
 of Calvin, oatcake and sulphur, when there are truf- 
 fles and old Madeira still to be had in London." 
 
 He laughed, his dark eyes appraising her slender 
 blond beauty eagerly. 
 
 "I have no quarrel with Calvin. Oatcake by all 
 means. Sulphur er I suppose the sulphur will come 
 in time." 
 
 "Not if you're polite," said the girl coolly, "and 
 tell me what brought you so unexpectedly to Scot- 
 land." 
 
 They were standing near the fire apart from the 
 others, Doris with one slipper on the fender, which 
 she was regarding approvingly, her head upon one side. 
 He admired her careless tone. She was quite won- 
 derful. 
 
 "Perhaps you will not believe me," he said suavely^ 
 "if I were to tell you that I came to see you." 
 
 "Me? I am flattered. I thought that great col- 
 
 70
 
 EIZZIO TAKES CHARGE 
 
 lectors were always deterred by fear of the spuri- 
 ous." 
 
 She was carrying the war into his camp. He met 
 the issue squarely. "They are only deterred by the 
 spurious. Therefore I am here. The inference is ob- 
 vious." 
 
 He had always showed the slightest trace of his 
 foreign accent. It went admirably with his shrug and 
 mobile fingers. 
 
 "I am genuine in this," she laughed, "that however 
 much you know about pictures, about objets de vertu 
 women must remain for you and for all other men 
 an unknown quantity." 
 
 "Not when they are both," he said gallantly. 
 
 "There are good and bad pictures objects of vir- 
 tue, excessively ugly " 
 
 "Objects of virtue are usually excessively ugly, es- 
 pecially if they are women." 
 
 "Thanks," said Doris. "You're most flattering. 
 There's something in the air of Scotland that makes 
 one tell the truth." 
 
 He laughed. "If Scotland is as merciless as that, I 
 shall be off in the morning. I could imagine no worse 
 purgatory than a place in which one always tells the 
 truth. Lying is one of the highest arts of a mature 
 civilization. I haven't the slightest notion, nor have 
 you, that either of us means a thing he says. We 
 were all born to deceive some of us do it in one way, 
 some in another, but we all do it to the very best of 
 our bent. For instance, you said a while ago that it 
 was agreeable for you to see me. But I'm quite sure, 
 you know, that it wasn't." 
 
 "It isn't agreeable if you're going to be horrid and 
 cynical. Why shouldn't I be glad to see you? You 
 
 71
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 always stimulate my intelligence even if you don't flat- 
 ter it." 
 
 The others had moved on to the library and they 
 had the room to themselves. 
 
 "I don't see how I could flatter it more than I have 
 already done," he said in a low tone of voice. 
 
 She raised her chin a trifle and peered at him slant- 
 wise. 
 
 "Do you think that you flatter it now when you re- 
 call the mistakes of my past?" 
 
 He searched her face keenly but her blue eyes met his 
 gaze steadily. She was smiling up at him guilelessly. 
 
 "A mistake of course," he said slowly. "You are 
 young enough to afford to make mistakes. But I am 
 old enough to wish that it hadn't been made at my 
 expense." 
 
 "You still care?" she asked. 
 
 I do." 
 
 "If I hadn't thought that you wanted me for youK 
 collection " 
 
 "You are cruel " 
 
 "No. I know. You wanted me for your portrait 
 harem, and I should have been frightfully jealous of 
 the Coningsby Venus. I couldn't compete with that 
 sort of thing, you know." 
 
 He smiled at her admiringly and went on in a low 
 tone. 
 
 "You know why I wanted you then, and why I want 
 you now because you're the cleverest woman in Eng- 
 land, and the most courageous." 
 
 "It took courage to refuse the hand of John Riz- 
 zio." 
 
 "It takes more courage in John Rizzio to hear those 
 Words from the lips that refused him." 
 
 72
 
 RIZZIO TAKES CHARGE 
 
 She laid her hand gently on his arm. 
 
 "I am sorry," she said. 
 
 He bent his head and kissed her fingers. 
 
 "It is not the Coningsby Venus who is essential to 
 my happiness," he whispered. "It's the Doris Diana." 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 "That's the disillusionment of possession." 
 
 "No. The only disillusionments of life are its fail- 
 ures I got the Venus by infinite patience. The Di- 
 ana " He paused and drew in his breath. 
 
 "You think that you may get the Diana by patience 
 also?" she asked quietly. 
 
 He looked at her with a gaze that seemed to pierce 
 all her subterfuges. 
 
 "I waited for the Coningsby Venus," he said in 
 measured tones, "until the man who possessed her 
 ;was dead." 
 
 She started, and the color left her cheeks. 
 
 "You mean Cyril?" she stammered. 
 
 "I mean," he replied urbanely, "precisely nothing 
 except that I will never give you up." 
 
 She recovered her poise with an effort, and when 
 she replied she was smiling gayly. 
 
 "I'm not at all sure that I want to be given up," 
 she said, with a laugh that was meant to relax the 
 tension. "You are, after all, one of the best friends 
 I have." 
 
 "I hope that nothing may ever happen to make you 
 think otherwise." 
 
 Was this a threat? She glanced at him keenly as 
 she quoted: 
 
 " 'Friendship is constant in all other things save 
 in the office and affairs of love.' May I trust you?" 
 
 "Try me." 
 
 6 73
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "No, I might put you to a test that would be diffi- 
 cult." 
 
 "Try me." 
 
 "Very well, I will. Go back to London in the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 He looked at her and laughed. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "It will be easier for you to be patient there than 
 here " 
 
 "When Hammersley comes?" 
 
 "Oh," she said quickly, "then he is coming?" 
 
 "I don't know why he shouldn't," he said slowly. 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 "Shall you go?" 
 
 "To London? I'll think about it." 
 
 "There! You see? You refuse my first request." 
 
 "I would like to know your purpose." 
 
 "I think you know it already," she put in quickly. 
 "You want something that I cannot give you some- 
 thing that is not mine to give." 
 
 She had come out into the open defiantly and he 
 met her challenge with a laugh. 
 
 "Because it is Hammersley's ?" he said. "You think 
 so and Hammersley thinks so, and possession is nine 
 points of the law. But I will contest." 
 
 "Your visit is vain. Go back to London, my 
 friend." 
 
 "I find it pleasanter here." 
 
 "Then you refuse?" 
 
 "I must." 
 
 "Then it is war between us." 
 
 "If you will have it so," he said, with an inclination 
 of the head. Doris put her foot on the fender and 
 leaned with her hands upon her knee for a moment as 
 
 74.
 
 RIZZIO TAKES CHARGE 
 
 though in deep thought. Then she turned toward the 
 door. 
 
 "Come," she said coolly. "Let us join the others." 
 
 There was a relief in the thought that at least they 
 had come to an understanding and that the matter of 
 the possession of the papers had at last become a 
 private contest between them. She had brought the 
 interview to an end not because she was afraid to 
 continue it but because she wanted to think of a plan 
 to disarm him. She felt that she was moving in the 
 dark but she trusted to her delicate woman's sense of 
 touch to stumble upon some chance, some slip of his 
 tongue, which might lead her into the light. 
 
 In the drawing-room by common consent all talk of 
 war had been abolished. She sat in at a hand of auc- 
 tion, but playing badly, she was gladly relinquished by 
 her partner at the end of the rubber. John Rizzio, 
 who disliked the game, had gone off for a quiet smoke, 
 but when she got up from the card table he was there 
 waiting for her. 
 
 "Cyril shall know of this," laughed Betty, as they 
 went toward the door. "They say that absence makes 
 the heart grow fonder of the other fellow." 
 
 Doris led the way to the gun-room, a place used by 
 Algie Heathcote for his sporting implements and tro- 
 phies of the chase. It was comfortably furnished in 
 leather and oak and a cheerful fire was burning in 
 the grate. Doris sank into the davenport and mo- 
 tioned to her companion to the place at her side. She 
 was thoroughly alive to her danger, but the sports- 
 woman in her made her keen to put it to the test. 
 
 "We are quite alone here," she said coolly. "The 
 others are not even within call. Now what do you 
 want of me?" 
 
 75
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 Her audacity rather startled him, but he folded his 
 arms and leaned back smiling. 
 
 "The papers of Riz-la-Croix, of course," he said 
 amiably. 
 
 "And how do you know they're in my possession?" 
 
 He shrugged. 
 
 "Because they couldn't possibly be anywhere else." 
 
 "How do you know?" 
 
 "Because I have exhausted every other resource." 
 
 "You're frank at least including the burglary at 
 Ashwater Park and the messing in my box up- 
 stairs ?" 
 
 "And since you must know the full truth," he con- 
 tinued politely, "the careful search of your room in 
 your absence this evening including the removal of 
 the rugs and bedding. Oh, don't be disturbed, I beg 
 of you," as she made a movement of alarm, "they have 
 all been replaced with a nice care for detail." 
 
 "And if I told Lady Heathcote of this " 
 
 "I am quite sure that the best interests of all," he 
 said politely, "are conserved by silence." 
 
 She meditated a moment, her gaze on the coals. 
 
 "Yes," she said slowly, "you're clever more than 
 ordinarily clever. I can't understand how I could ever 
 have refused you. But don't you think your methods 
 have been a little er unchivalrous ?" 
 
 "The importance of my objects admitted of no de- 
 lay. I hope you have not been inconvenienced " 
 
 "Not in the least," calmly. "My recollection of 
 your many civilities merely made me think that your 
 agents were overzealous." 
 
 "I am sorry," he said genuinely. "It could not be 
 helped. You and I are merely pawns in a game greater 
 than anything the world has ever known." 
 
 76
 
 RIZZIO TAKES CHARGE 
 
 "I didn't want you to apologize. I merely thought 
 in order to avoid comment that you might have come 
 to me yourself." 
 
 "I thought I might save you the unpleasantness of 
 a controversy which can only have one end." 
 
 "You mean that you will win." 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "You will give me the papers here, tonight." 
 
 "And if I told you that I had destroyed them?" 
 
 "That would be manifestly untrue, since at the 
 present moment in the position of your body their out- 
 line is quite clearly defined on the inside of your right 
 knee." 
 
 Doris put both slippers upon the ground, her feet 
 together, her face flushing warmly. 
 
 "I hope you will forgive my frankness," she heard 
 him say gently, "but the method of your challenge 
 is unusual." 
 
 She clasped her hands around her knees and 
 frowned into the fire. 
 
 "You mistake, I think, my friend. It is not a chal- 
 lenge. It is merely a method of defense the safest, 
 I am sure, against John Rizzio." 
 
 He bowed low with deep ceremony. 
 
 "Of course, I am helpless." And then, "I can only 
 rely on your good sense and" here his voice sunk a : 
 note lower "and on your loyalty to the cause of Eng- 
 land." 
 
 This was the opening that she had been waiting for. 
 She thrust quickly. 
 
 "And if the cause is England's why didn't Scotland 
 Yard come to Ashwater Park?" 
 
 "Dunsinane to Burnam Wood !" he shrugged. "They 
 
 77
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 would have made asinine mistakes as they always do 
 the chief of which would have been that of denouncing 
 Miss Doris Mather as an agent of England's ene- 
 mies." 
 
 The girl tapped her toe reflectively upon the rug. 
 
 "I won't attempt subterfuge. Of course, I know the 
 contents of that packet." 
 
 "You wouldn't be a woman if you didn't." 
 
 "And how it was passed from Captain Byfield to 
 Cyril Hammersley." This was a random shot but it 
 hit the mark. Eizzio's eyes dilated slightly, but she 
 saw them. 
 
 "Byfield ! Impossible." 
 
 "Not at all. Cyril told me," she lied. 
 
 "He told you ?" he paused aghast, for now she 
 
 was laughing at him. 
 
 "No but you have." 
 
 His brow tangled and he folded his arms again. 
 
 "Of course, you know the importance to Cyril and 
 Captain Byfield of keeping such a matter secret." 
 
 He had not heard ! He did not know ! She remem- 
 bered that the subject of the dreadful news from Lon- 
 don had not been reopened and Jack Sandys' sources 
 of information were probably semiofficial. 
 
 She controlled her voice with an effort. 
 
 "I would hardly be the one to mention names un- 
 der the circumstances since my own fortunes seem 
 to be involved in the matter, but as for Captain By- 
 field, I'm afraid that further secrecy will hardly help 
 him." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "Merely that he was arrested late yesterday after- 
 noon as he was leaving the War Office." 
 
 She had not counted on the effect she created. She 
 78
 
 EIZZIO TAKES CHARGE 
 
 knew that her last thrust had put him more carefully 
 on guard, but he could not hide the sudden intake of 
 breath and the quick searching glance his dark eyes 
 shot at her. 
 
 "What is your source of information?" 
 
 "Jack Sandys. He came here directly from Down- 
 ing Street." 
 
 She saw Rizzio's lips meet under his mustache in a 
 thin line. 
 
 "So. It has come sooner than I expected." 
 
 He got up and paced the floor, his fingers twitching 
 behind his back. She said nothing, waiting for him 
 to rejoin her. When he did, it was with a serious ex- 
 pression. 
 
 "I suppose you know what this means to to Ham- 
 mersley," he said in a low voice. 
 
 Doris sat without moving, but her brain was busy 
 weighing Rizzio. 
 
 "No," she replied calmly, "I don't. Won't you tell 
 me?" 
 
 He leaned forward toward her along the back of 
 their seat, his look and voice concentrated upon her. 
 
 "Is it possible," he continued, "that you haven't 
 realized by this time exactly what Cyril Hammersley 
 is?" 
 
 "No," she said staunchly. "I will believe nothing 
 of him unless he tells it to me himself." 
 
 He waited a moment, watching her, and fancied that 
 he saw her lips tremble slightly. Her loyalty to Ham- 
 mersley inflamed him. He followed up his advantage 
 quickly. 
 
 "There are reasons why I should dislike to give 
 you pain, greater reasons why I should be generous 
 with a successful rival, and I have done what I can 
 
 79
 
 to take this matter out of your hands. There is still 
 time. Will you give me that packet?" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "Then I must speak," he went on. "My duty de- 
 mands it, whatever happens to him whatever hap- 
 pens to you. Don't make me go to extremes with you. 
 I cannot bear to do it. Hammersley is a German spy. 
 Those papers were to be forwarded to Germany. You 
 are saving them for him, that he may betray Eng- 
 land." 
 
 "That is not true," she said chokingly, "I do not 
 believe it." 
 
 "You must. Isn't there proof enough in what you 
 have read?" 
 
 "There is some mistake." 
 
 "No. There can't be. Your sentiments are blind- 
 ing you." 
 
 "One moment, please." Doris had risen and faced 
 him across the hearth, a new fire of resolution in her 
 eyes. To Rizzio, the lover of beauty, she was a mock- 
 ery of lost happiness. She was Diana, not the hunt- 
 ress but the hunted. 
 
 "You have told me what Cyril Hammersley is. Now 
 if you please I would like to know what you are !" 
 
 He paused a moment and then with a step toward 
 her said gently: 
 
 "I think my interests should be fairly obvious. I 
 am acting for the English Government." 
 
 "I have only your word for it. Have you any pa- 
 pers that would prove it in your card-case, for in- 
 stance?" 
 
 He started back, his fingers instinctively reaching 
 upward. Then he shrugged and laughed. 
 
 "You are surely the most amazing person. Un- 
 
 80
 
 'Not that/ he whispered hoarsely, 'for God's sake not 
 that.' "
 
 fortunately I have no documents. I am only doing 
 my duty as a private citizen a loyal resident of the 
 Empire." 
 
 "But not a Briton. Neither am I. We meet on 
 equal terms." 
 
 "Then you refuse me definitely, finally." 
 
 "Yes, I must." 
 
 "I beg that you will consider carefully the alterna- 
 tives. If you give me the papers silence on my part 
 safety for Hammersley. If you refuse to give them 
 up " he paused. 
 
 "Then what will you do?" she defied him. 
 
 "It would be the most terrible moment of my life 
 but I will denounce him here tonight tomorrow in 
 London. Those papers must not reach Germany . 
 even if I have to denounce you, too." 
 
 "And if I promise that the papers will not reach 
 Germany?" 
 
 He hesitated a moment. 
 
 "There is too much at stake. I can't take the risk. 
 No woman can be trusted " 
 
 "Not even the woman John Rizzio would have made 
 his wife?" 
 
 He moved his shoulders expressively. Her youth 
 and cleverness were bewildering him. 
 
 "No, that will not do," he said in desperation. "You 
 must give me the papers." 
 
 "I will not. You shall have to take them from 
 me." 
 
 He leaned toward her along the mantel aware of her 
 dominant loveliness. 
 
 "You would not drive me to that!" 
 
 "Yes. It is a challenge. I offer it. I will fight 
 you, and I am strong. I have a voice arid I will raise 
 
 81
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 an outcry. They will come and I will tell them. Then 
 you can denounce me? Will you dare?" 
 
 He came toward her while she fled around the daven- 
 port, eluding him with ease. She was swifter of foot 
 than he. He stopped a moment near the gun-rack to 
 plead. She kept the huge oak lounge between them > 
 and listened by the fire. Something she saw in his 
 eyes decided her, for as he came forward to leap over 
 the davenport she threw something yellow toward him. 
 
 He gave a gasp of relief, picked the object up and 
 made a cry of dismay. 
 
 "The cover! I must have the papers," he cried, 
 coming forward again. 
 
 By this time the girl was standing upright, a poker 
 in one hand, the thin cigarette papers cramped in the 
 fingers of the other, over the open fire. 
 
 Rizzio paused in the very act of leaping. 
 
 "Not that," he whispered hoarsely, "for God's sake 
 not that." 
 
 "Stay where you are, then," said the girl in a low 
 resolute tone. 
 
 Rizzio straightened. Doris still bent over the fire. 
 
 "Give it to me," he said again. 
 
 "No. England's secrets shall be safe." 
 
 "Don't you understand?" he whispered wildly. "I've 
 got to prove that they are." 
 
 "I can prove that as well as you " 
 
 "But you won't. Hammersley is " 
 
 He paused and both of them straightened, listening* 
 Outside in the hall there was a commotion and a famil- 
 iar voice as the Honorable Cyril, his face and fur coat 
 spattered with mud, came into the room.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 y AN INTRUDER 
 
 HE looked from one to the other with a quickly 
 appraising eye. The girl was fingering the 
 lace of her bodice. Rizzio had turned to- 
 ward the newcomer recovering his poise. 
 
 "Hope I'm not intruding" said Hammersley, with 
 a laugh. 
 
 "Well, hardly. You've come in a hurry." 
 
 "Yes," drawled Hammersley. "I missed your train, 
 I think. Too bad. Jolly slow work travelin' alone. 
 Stryker picked me up at Edinburgh and we came 
 on by motor." 
 
 He took off his fur coat in leisurely fashion and 
 crossing to the fireplace took Doris's proffered hand. 
 "You had my note?" he asked carelessly. 
 
 The girl nodded. "I was glad," she said. 
 
 "Well, I'm here. Jolly happy, too. Had a narrow 
 squeak of it, though. Some bally idiot stretched rope 
 across the road over by Saltham Rocks, but we saw it 
 in time, and went around. Fired a few shots at us, 
 too. Must have taken me for Rizzio. What?" he 
 laughed. 
 
 Thus directly appealed to, Rizzio smiled grudgingly. 
 
 "You don't ask me to believe that story, Hammers- 
 ley," he said dryly. 
 
 "You don't have to, Rizzio." 
 
 The girl's look was fixed on Hammersley's face. 
 Suddenly she broke in with a voice of alarm. 
 
 83
 
 "Cyril you're hurt and there's blood on your 
 coat " 
 
 "Is there? By Jove, so there is it doesn't matter. 
 I wouldn't mind a peg though and a cigarette." 
 
 Doris had started for the door in alarm. 
 
 "Wait!" Hammersley's voice came sharply. And as 
 she paused, "Ring, Doris." 
 
 She understood and touched the button beside the 
 door. 
 
 "We might as well have an understanding before 
 they come, Rizzio," put in Hammersley quickly. "Do 
 you prefer to believe my story or would you like 
 to invent one of your own?" 
 
 Rizzio shrugged. "As you please," he said. "It 
 seems that I am de trop here." At the door he paused 
 and finished distinctly. "I hope that your explanations 
 will prove satisfactory." 
 
 Doris had helped Cyril off with his coat and by the 
 time the maid brought Betty Heathcote, had cut away 
 the sleeve of his shirt with Cyril's pocket knife. It 
 was merely a gash across the upper arm, which a 
 bandage and some old-fashioned remedies would set 
 right. 
 
 Lady Heathcote heard the story (from which Ham- 
 mersley eliminated the rope) with amazement, and was 
 for sending at once for the local constabulary. 
 
 "Oh, it's hardly worth while," said the Honorable 
 Cyril, sipping his whiskey and water, comfortably. 
 "Poor devils out of work, I fancy. Wanted my 
 money. If they'd come to Ben-a-Chielt tomorrow 
 I'd give it to 'em. But I wouldn't mind, Betty, if you 
 could put me up for the night. I'm not keen to be 
 dodgin' bullets in the dark." 
 
 "Of course," said Lady Heathcote. "How extraor- 
 
 84
 
 'AN INTRUDER 
 
 dinary! I can't understand Saltham Rocks that's 
 on my place. Something must be done, Cyril." 
 
 Hammersley yawned. "Oh, tomorrow will do. 
 Couldn't catch the beggars in the dark. Besides, 
 it's late. Do me a favor, Betty. Don't let those 
 people come in here again. I want a word with 
 Doris." 
 
 He had stretched himself out comfortably on the 
 Davenport, his eyes on the girl, who still stood un- 
 certainly beside him. 
 
 Lady Betty shrugged, and taking up her basin and 
 lotion moved toward the door. 
 
 "It's most mysterious. Are you sure we're quite 
 safe?" 
 
 "Quite. But I think it might be better if I had 
 the room between yours and Doris's." 
 
 "I was putting John Rizzio there." 
 
 "Well, change there's a dear. And say nothing 
 about it. I I might need a new dressing on this 
 thing in the night." 
 
 She examined him curiously, but he was looking 
 lazily into the fire, having already taken her acquies- 
 cence for granted. 
 
 When she went out, Hammersley sat up and threw 
 his cigarette into the fire. 
 
 "You have it still?" he whispered anxiously, tak- 
 ing Doris by both hands. 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 "Thank God for that. I seemed to have arrived at 
 the proper moment." 
 
 "I was about to burn them." 
 
 He drew a long breath of relief. 
 
 "You know what they are?" 
 
 "Yes. I read them." 
 
 85
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "I was afraid you would. You have spoken to no 
 one." 
 
 "No," proudly. "Hardly. After what I went 
 through." And, with an air of restraint, she told 
 him everything. 
 
 He listened, a serious look in his eyes. 
 
 "It was my fault. I should have left them in the 
 machine. I got away scot free." 
 
 "Yes, I know. I saw you." 
 
 "You poor child," he said softly. "I was desper- 
 ate. I thought it necessary. How can I ever thank 
 
 you?" 
 
 "You can't." The tones of her voice were strange. 
 
 "I'd jolly well give my life for you, Doris. You 
 know that," he said earnestly. 
 
 "It's something less than that that I want, and 
 something more your word of honor." 
 
 "My word ?" 
 
 "Yes," she went on quietly. "To forswear your 
 German kinship and give me an oath of loyalty to 
 England. Difficult as it is, I'll believe you." 
 
 "Sh !" He glanced toward the door. All the 
 windows of the room were closed. "He told you that 
 I was a German spy?" he whispered anxiously. 
 
 "You forget that I had proof of that already." 
 
 He sat up and looked into the fire. "I hoped you 
 wouldn't read 'em. It has done no good." 
 
 "I have no regrets. I will not betray England, Cy- 
 ril, even for you." 
 
 He rose and paced the rug in front of her for a 
 moment. Then he spoke incredulously in a whisper. 
 
 "You mean that you won't give 'em to me?" 
 
 "I mean that precisely." 
 
 "But that is impossible," he went on, with greater 
 
 86
 
 AN INTRUDER 
 
 signs of excitement than she had ever seen in him. 
 "Don't you realize now that every moment the things 
 are in your possession you're in danger great dan- 
 ger? Isn't what you've gone through isn't this" 
 and he indicated his arm '"the proof of it?" 
 
 "Yes," she said firmly. "But I would rather suffer 
 injury myself than see you share the fate of Captain 
 Byfield." 
 
 He started. "Oh, you heard that?" 
 
 "Yes. Jack Sandys is here." She put her face in 
 her hands in the throes of her doubts of him and then 
 suddenly thrust out her hands and laced her fingers 
 around his arm. 
 
 "Oh, give it up, Cyril, for my sake give it all up. 
 Can't you see the terrible position you've placed me in? 
 If I give these papers to Jack Sandys they'll come and 
 take you as they took Captain Byfield. I've kept them 
 for you, because I promised. But I cannot let this 
 information get to Germany. I would die first. What 
 shall I do?" she wailed. "What on earth can I do?" 
 
 His reply made her gasp. 
 
 "There's a fire," he said quietly. "Burn 'em." 
 
 Her fingers went to her corsage and her eyes gleamed 
 with a new hope. She took the crumpled rice-papers 
 out and looked at them. Then in a flash the thought 
 came to her. 
 
 "You know the information contained in these pa- 
 pers?" she asked in an accent of deprecation. 
 
 "No," he replied shortly. "I merely glanced at 
 them." 
 
 "You hadn't the chance to study them?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Still she hesitated. "But what what is Rizzio ?" 
 
 He walked to the door of the room, opening it sud- 
 
 87
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 denly. Then he shut it quietly and coming back to 
 the fire took the poker and made a hole between the 
 glowing coals. 
 
 "Burn 'em!" he commanded. 
 
 She obeyed him wonderingly and together they 
 watched the package of rice-papers flame into a live 
 coal and then turn to ashes. When the last vestige of 
 them had disappeared, they sat together on the daven- 
 port, Cyril thoughtful, the girl bewildered. 
 
 "What is Rizzio?" she repeated. "He told me that 
 he was an agent of the English Government." 
 
 "I can't tell you," he whispered hoarsely. "I can't 
 tell you anything even you. Don't you understand ?" 
 
 "No, I don't. It's your word against his. I would 
 rather believe you than him. I want to, Cyril. God 
 knows I want to." 
 
 "Didn't I ask you to burn the papers? Didn't he 
 try to prevent it?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Can't you see? If he were acting for England, 
 it wouldn't matter what became of 'em if they didn't 
 reach Germany." 
 
 "Oh, I thought of that but what you have told 
 me bewilders me. Why should you run away with se- 
 crets of England given you by a traitor who is about 
 to pay the penalty with with death? What does it 
 mean? Why didn't you take those papers at once to 
 the War Office? Why did Captain Byfield give them 
 to you? He a traitor to you Cyril! It is all so 
 horrible. I am frightened. Your danger Rizzio's 
 men, here tonight all about us." 
 
 "If they were English secret service men," Cyril 
 put in quietly, "wouldn't they come here to this house 
 and arrest me in the name of the law?" 
 
 88
 
 AN INTRUDER 
 
 "Yes. There must be other reasons why they can't. 
 What is the contest between you and Rizzio? Tell 
 me. Tell me everything! I will believe you. Haven't 
 I kept your trust? If I could do that for your sake 
 do you not think that I could keep silent for Eng- 
 land's sake?" 
 
 Her arms were about his neck, and her lips very 
 close to his, but he turned his head away so that the 
 temptation might not be too strong for him. 
 
 "I can't," he muttered, "I cannot speak even to 
 you. I am sworn to secrecy." 
 
 She drooped upon his arms and then moved away 
 despairingly. It was the failure of the appeal of her 
 femininity that condemned him. 
 
 "Oh, you won't let me believe in you. You won't let 
 me. It's too great a test you're asking of me. Every- 
 thing is against you but the worst witness is your 
 silence !" 
 
 He stood by the mantel, his head lowered. 
 
 "It is hard for you hard for us both," he said 
 softly, "but I can't tell you anythin' anythin'." He 
 raised his head and looked at her with pity. She had 
 sunk upon the divan, her head upon her arms in a de- 
 spair too deep for tears. 
 
 He crossed and laid his hand gently upon her shoul- 
 der. 
 
 "You must trust in me if you can. I will try to 
 be worthy of it. That's all I can say." He paused. 
 "And now you must go to bed. You're a bit fagged. 
 Perhaps in the mornin' you'll pull up a bit and see 
 things differently." 
 
 She straightened slowly and their eyes met for a 
 moment. His never wavered, and she saw that they 
 were very kind, but she rose silently and without ofrer- 
 7 89
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 ing him her lips or even her hand, moved slowly toward 
 the door. 
 
 He reached it in a stride before her and put his 
 hand upon the knob. 
 
 "There's one thing more I've got to ask." 
 
 Her look questioned. 
 
 "You must sleep in my room tonight, next to Bet- 
 ty's. I shall sleep in yours." 
 
 Her weary eyes sought his with an effort. 
 
 "You mean you think Rizzio would still ?" 
 
 She paused. 
 
 "Yes, he thinks you would not give them to me." 
 And then, with a laugh, "You wouldn't, you know." 
 
 "And if I tell him I have burned them " 
 
 "He will not believe you." 
 
 "He would not believe me," she repeated in a daze. 
 
 "You must do what I ask," Cyril went on quietly. "I 
 know what is best. I'll arrange it with Betty." He 
 glanced at his watch. "One o'clock. By Jove! It's 
 time even for auction players." 
 
 She promised him at last after a protest on his 
 own account. 
 
 "Nothin' to worry about," he laughed. "They may 
 not try anythin', and when they find I'm there they'll 
 bundle out in a hurry." 
 
 Thus reassured she went out to the drawing-room 
 where the card players were just rising. Rizzio was 
 nowhere to be seen. Cyril at once took their hostess 
 aside and told her that Doris was a little upset by 
 the shooting, asking if Betty would mind letting hef 
 take the room next to her own, so that she could open 
 the door between. 
 
 "Don't say anything about it, Betty," he urged. 
 **Just ask her in, won't you, when you get upstairs." 
 
 90
 
 'AN INTRUDER 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "I could do a turn on steel spikes," he laughed. 
 
 "Your arm?" 
 
 "Right as rain. It's nothing at all." 
 
 Doris accepted the situation without a word. In- 
 deed she was numbed with the fatigue of strained 
 nerves. The swift rush of incident since Betty's Lon- 
 don dinner, with its rapid alternations of hope and 
 fear, had left her bewildered and helpless. But it 
 was the interview with Cyril tonight that had plunged 
 her into the dark abyss of despair. She had tried so 
 hard to believe in him, but he would do nothing to take 
 away the weight that had been dragging her down fur- 
 ther and further from the light. A new kind of love 
 had come to her, born of the new Cyril who had won 
 her over by the sheer force of a personality, the ex- 
 istence of which she had not dreamed. A short time 
 ago she had wanted to see him awake a firebrand 
 and she had had her wish, for she had kindled to his 
 touch like tinder. But tonight, in her utter weari- 
 ness, it seemed as though her spirit was charred, burnt 
 to a cinder, like the package of papers in the grate 
 in the gun-room, destroyed, as the secret message had 
 been, in the great game that Cyril was playing. 
 
 She undressed slowly, listening for any sounds that 
 might come from the room next door, but the only sign 
 she had of him was the familiar smell of his pipe to- 
 bacco which came through the cracks and key-hole. A 
 little later Betty Heathcote came in prepared for what 
 she called a "back hair talk," but found her guest so 
 unresponsive that at last she went into her own room 
 and bed. Doris lay for a while watching the line of 
 light under Cyril's door, wondering what he was doing 
 and what the night was to bring forth. One memory 
 
 91
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 persisted in the chaos of the night's events. Cyril 
 didn't know the contents of the papers and yet he 
 had commanded her to burn them. The thought 
 quieted her, and at last she saw the light in his room 
 go out, then, after a time, in spite of her weariness, 
 she slept. 
 
 She awakened, trembling with terror, listening for 
 she knew not what. And then as her wits slowly came 
 to her, she was aware of the sounds which had awak- 
 ened her. They were suppressed, secret, and strange, 
 but none the less terrible, the shuffling of feet, hoarse 
 whispers, and the creaking of straining furniture. She 
 sat upright, slipped to the floor quickly, and, getting 
 into the dressing-gown at the foot of the bed, stood 
 for a moment in the middle of the room, her heart beat- 
 ing wildly. Then with quick resolution she moved 
 swiftly to Betty Heathcote's room and, after assur- 
 ing herself that her hostess still slept, closed the door 
 softly and passed the bolt. 
 
 Again she hesitated. The sounds from Cyril's room 
 continued, the hard breathing of men who seemed with 
 one accord to be trying to keep their struggles silent. 
 Aware of her danger, but considering it less than the 
 j physical need for immediate action, with trembling fin- 
 gers she turned the key and quickly opened the door. 
 
 At first, silence, utter and profound, but full of a 
 terror which a breath might reveal. 
 
 "Cyril! What is it?" she managed to whisper. 
 
 "Sh " she heard. And dimly, in the pale moon- 
 light, she made out the dark blur of figures upon the 
 floor in the corner of the room. 
 
 "Cyril!" she repeated. 
 
 92
 
 AN INTRUDER 
 
 "It's all right," she heard in a breathless whisper. 
 "Go back to your room. It's nothin'." 
 
 But having ventured thus far she did not hesitate, 
 and closing the door behind her came forward. Upon 
 the floor, half against the wall, was the figure of a 
 man. Cyril was sitting on his legs and holding him 
 with one hand by the neck cloth. 
 
 " You're safe?" she whispered. 
 
 "Yes. Go back to bed. Don't you understand if 
 anyone came ?" 
 
 "I don't care." Her curiosity had triumphed. She 
 leaned forward and saw that it was John Rizzio. 
 
 "Rizzio!" she whispered. "My room!" 
 
 "I ought to kill him, Doris," said Cyril savagely, 
 "but I've only choked him a little. He'll come around 
 in a minute." And then more quietly: "Get me a 
 glass of water, but don't make a fuss, and don't make 
 a light. There are men outside." 
 
 She obeyed, and in a moment Rizzio revived and sat 
 up, Cyril standing over him, his fist clenched. 
 
 "Oh, let him go, Cyril, please," Doris pleaded. 
 
 At the sound of the girl's voice Rizzio started and 
 with Cyril's help struggled to his feet. 
 
 "Yes, he's going the way he came by the window," 
 growled Hammersley. "Head first, if I have my way." 
 
 Rizzio succeeded in a smile, though he was still 
 struggling for breath. 
 
 "I suppose I I must thank you for your gener- 
 osity, Hammersley," he said with as fine a return of his 
 composure as his throat permitted. "I have been 
 guilty of of an error in judgment 
 
 "I'm sorry you think it's only that," said Cyril dryly. 
 "Now go," he whispered threateningly, pointing to the 
 ;window. 
 
 93
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 "In a moment with your permission," he said, re- 
 covering his suavity with his breath. "In extenuation 
 of this visit, terrible as it seems to Miss Mather, I 
 I can only say that if I had succeeded I would have 
 saved her from remembering some day that she had 
 given England's secrets into the hands of the enemy." 
 
 "You're mistaken," said Doris quietly. "I have 
 burned them." 
 
 "You you burned them?" 
 
 "Yes tonight." 
 
 Rizzio peered at her in silence for a long moment 
 and then shrugged. "Oh," he said, "in that case, I 
 have made two errors in judgment " 
 
 "You'll make a third, if you're not out of that win- 
 dow in half a second," said Cyril. 
 
 But Rizzio laughed at him. 
 
 "I don't think it would be wise to make a disturb- 
 ance " he said coolly. "I think Miss Mather will 
 
 admit my generosity to herself and to you when I say 
 that I've only to raise my voice and have half a dozen 
 men up here in a moment." 
 
 Doris clutched him fearfully by the arm, thinking 
 of Cyril. 
 
 "You'd not do that ?" 
 
 Hammersley laughed dryly. 
 
 "There's no danger," he said. 
 
 "No," returned Rizzio with a touch of his old mag- 
 nificence. "There is no danger of that the reasons 
 are obvious." 
 
 As he moved toward the window Hammersley 
 touched him lightly on the arm. 
 
 "I warn you, Rizzio," he said in a low concentrated 
 tone, "that you're playing a dangerous hand. I should 
 
 punish you but other agencies " 
 
 94
 
 Rizzio halted. "Yes, other agencies " he replied 
 
 significantly. He bowed in the girl's direction and sit- 
 ting on the window-sill he threw his feet outside. "I 
 bid you good night." And carefully feeling for his 
 footing he slowly descended. 
 
 Cyril Hammersley followed him to the window, and 
 Doris took a step in his direction, when her thinly 
 slippered foot touched something in the wooden floor 
 something which slid upon the polished surface from 
 the shadow into the moonlight. Instinctively she 
 glanced down and then started scarcely restraining a 
 gasp. There, unmistakable in the shape and color for 
 so many hours graven on her mind, was a yellow packet 
 of Riz-la-Croix cigarette papers. She glanced at Cyril, 
 who was closing the casement window, then stooped 
 and, picking up the packet, fled noiselessly into her 
 room and quickly locked the door.
 
 EVIDENCE 
 
 INSIDE her own room she stood for a moment 
 tremulously in the dark, fingering the guilty 
 thing in her hands as she had fingered the other 
 one the one she had destroyed. Or hadn't she de- 
 stroyed it? For a moment the thought came to her 
 that Cyril had practiced some trick upon her when 
 they had knelt before the fire, substituting other pa- 
 pers for the ones that were to be burned. But that 
 was impossible. The papers had not touched his fin- 
 gers. He it was who had made a hole for them in the 
 fire, but her fingers had thrust the original papers into 
 the glowing coals. She turned the packet over and 
 over in her fingers, glancing at the closed door that 
 separated her from Cyril. Another message! It 
 must be. 
 
 She pulled the curtains at the window and then mov- 
 ing quietly to the bed, lit the candle on the night- 
 stand. Another packet of Riz-la-Croix, new like the 
 other, with its tiny thin rubber band. She opened it 
 quickly and scanned its pages, finding what she sought 
 without difficulty. The writing was not in the same 
 hand. It was rounder and less minute, covering in all 
 seven pages, and it was written carelessly as if the 
 writer had been in a hurry. Cyril's own handwriting 
 it seemed. The purport of its message was the 
 same. 
 
 No. She remembered the dates. These were some- 
 
 96
 
 irhat different. The names of the regiments were the 
 same, but the dates instead of days in April and May 
 gave days in the months of June and July. And the 
 numerals which at first had puzzled her were smaller* 
 For instance, among "Highland Regiments Foot" the 
 numerals of which she remembered particularly, in- 
 stead of 120,000 she saw the numerals 42,000. It was 
 the same under other headings in the remainder of the 
 items. Under "shrapnel" there were changes, and 
 under "artillery" 
 
 She closed the packet in icy fingers, for the figures 
 swam before her eyes. They were all true all the 
 horrible things that she had thought of Cyril! This 
 was later and more accurate information the exact 
 reason for which she did not pretend to understand 
 and was intended to follow the previous message 
 perhaps to be used as a code in connection with it. 
 
 Cyril was Oh, the dishonor of it! And she had 
 
 gone to sleep almost ready to believe in him again 
 because he had let her burn the other papers. What 
 did it matter to him whether she burned the papers 
 when he had other messages to send and had com- 
 mitted to memory the facts he had let her destroy? 
 He had lied to her. He was false as Judas and more 
 dangerous, for now she knew that he was desperate as 
 .well as cunning, stooping to any means, no matter 
 how ignoble, to gain his ends. She had been a mere 
 bauble in his hands, a child upon whose credulity he 
 had played without scruple. He had used her, the 
 woman he had said he loved, for his own unworthy 
 ends as he used Betty Heathcote and her house. She 
 was filled with shame for him and for herself, who could 
 love something shameful. 
 
 And John Rizzio! Rizzio, Cyril's enemy, stood for 
 
 97
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 England and right, and she had permitted herself to 
 see through Cyril's eyes just as Cyril had wanted her 
 to see. 
 
 It seemed as she compared them that Rizzio's no- 
 bility attained a firmer contour. He had come to her 
 room to save her from her own ignorance and wilful- 
 ness, from committing a crime, the greatest of all 
 crimes against England. Rizzio knew what Cyril was 
 and on her account had refrained from giving Cyril 
 up to the officers of the law, although they were within 
 call even when he felt himself yielding to the fury of 
 Cyril's superior physical strength. Not even the spirit 
 of revenge for the punishment Cyril had given him, 
 not even the humiliation he had suffered before her 
 eyes had been enough to make him forget his intention 
 to save, if he could, for the woman who loved him, a 
 successful rival. And she, Doris, had stood by Cyril's 
 side warm in Cyril's cause, against the one man who 
 held Cyril's fate as the bearer of treacherous mes- 
 sages, in his hand. 
 
 There was still danger in the air. The last words 
 of the two men to each other had been hidden threats 
 of "other agencies," whatever they were, and she found 
 herself praying in a whisper that the agency of Eng- 
 land, even if it meant Cyril's danger, might conquer. 
 O God! It would have been better, it seemed, if the 
 bullet at Saltham Rocks that had grazed Cyril's arm 
 had killed him. That death would at least have been 
 free from the shame of that which awaited Captain 
 Byfield. 
 
 She gazed with wide eyes at her guttering candle. 
 She was wishing for Cyril's death! She shivered with 
 pity for herself and for him and huddled down in the 
 bed, a very small, very miserable object, seeking in 
 
 98
 
 EVIDENCE 
 
 vain some hope, some rest for her mind amid the tor- 
 ture of her thoughts. 
 
 Suddenly she started up and sat clutching the yellow 
 packet to her breast, her gaze fixed on the door into 
 Cyril's room. Had she heard a knock? Or was it 
 only imagination? Yes. There it was again. She 
 leaned over hurriedly and blew out the candle and lay 
 very still, her teeth chattering with the cold, her body 
 trembling. He was knocking again, a little louder 
 this time, and she heard his voice through the keyhole 
 whispering her name. She made no response and 
 feigned sleep. He knocked again still louder and she 
 heard her name spoken quite distinctly. He would 
 awaken the house if this went on. When he knocked 
 again she got up and went over to the door. 
 
 "Doris !" he was saying. 
 
 She answered him. 
 
 "Will you open the door just a crack?" 
 
 "No," she whispered. 
 
 "I want to speak to you." 
 
 "You cannot." 
 
 "Please." 
 
 "I'm listening. What do you want to say?" 
 
 "I've lost something something that must have 
 fallen from my pocket." 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 And then in quick anxious tones : 
 
 "You didn't see anythin' on the floor by the 
 door?" 
 
 "No," she lied, trembling. "I didn't." 
 
 She heard him mutter. 
 
 "You're sure?" came his voice again. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 And then in dubious tones: 
 
 99
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "Oh, very well then. Sorry to have troubled you. 
 Good night." 
 
 She didn't reply and stole back through the dark- 
 ness to her bed, into which she crept, like some thin 
 wraith of vengeance, biding her time. 
 
 Into bed, but not to sleep. She watched the moon- 
 light grow pale into the west and saw the first gray 
 streaks of dawn paint the wooded slopes of Ben Dar- 
 rah across the valley of the Dorth. In pity for her- 
 self and Cyril she watched the new day born, a new 
 day, bleak and cheerless, which seemed by its very 
 aspect to pronounce a sentence upon them ; the new 
 day which was to mark the passing of all the things 
 growing womanhood holds most dear, her first faith, 
 her first tenderness, her first passion. 
 
 Doris kept to her room until Betty came in, awak- 
 ening her from a heavy sleep into which she had fallen 
 just before sunrise. Lady Heathcote rang for Wilson 
 and then retired to the ministrations of her own maid, 
 leaving Doris to dress for the morning at her leisure. 
 And when the girl got downstairs to breakfast she 
 found that the other guests had preceded her. But 
 Betty Heathcote was still in the breakfast room pick- 
 ing with dainty fingers at the various dishes upon the 
 sideboard and making sparkling comment as was her 
 custom on men and things. She found the disappear- 
 ance of John Rizzio, bag, baggage and man, from Kil- 
 marock House without even a line to his hostess both 
 unusual and surprising, since her guest was a man who 
 made much of the amenities and forms of proper be- 
 havior. Doris commented in a desultory way, trying 
 to put on an air of cheerfulness, aware of Cyril Ham- 
 mersley somewhere in the background awaiting the 
 chance to speak to her alone. She did not hurry, and 
 
 100
 
 EVIDENCE 
 
 when Betty arose sauntered into the library where the 
 other guests were waiting for the horses to come 
 around. Twice Cyril tried to speak to her, but she 
 avoided him skillfully, contriving to be a part of a 
 group where personal topics were not to be discussed. 
 That kind of maneuvering she knew was a game at 
 which any woman is more than a match for any man. 
 But she saw by the cloud that was growing in Cyril's 
 eyes that he was not in the mood to be put off with 
 excuses, and realized that the sooner the pain of their 
 interview was over, the better it would be for both of 
 them. She was dressed in the long coat and breeches 
 which she wore in the hunting field, and in her waist- 
 coat pocket was the yellow packet. 
 
 "I've got to see you for half an hour alone," he 
 said at last, taking the bull by the horns. 
 
 "I shall miss my ride." 
 
 "They're taking the long road to Ben-a-Chielt. I'll 
 take you there in the motor and send your mount on 
 by a groom." 
 
 She acquiesced with a cool shrug which put him at 
 once upon his guard, but Doris had reached a pass 
 when all she wanted was to bring their relations to an 
 end as speedily and with as little pain as possible. 
 So that when the others had gone she sank into a chair 
 before the fire, coldly asking him what he wanted. He 
 stood with his back to the hearth, his hands clasped 
 behind him, in a long moment of silence as though try- 
 ing to find the words to begin. 
 
 "Well?" she asked insolently. 
 
 "What has happened since last night to change you 
 so, Doris?" 
 
 "I've had a chance to think." 
 
 "Of what?" 
 
 101
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "That it was time you and I had an understanding." 
 
 "I don't see " 
 
 "Wait!" she commanded, with a wave of the hand. 
 "There isn't anything that } 7 ou can say that will make 
 me change my mind. Therefore the sooner this talk 
 is over the better for both of us. I've told you and 
 you know already that my whole soul is wrapped in 
 the cause of England in this war. I can have nothing 
 but pity and contempt for any Englishman 
 
 She paused, for at this moment, the parlor maid 
 appeared and, gathering up some brasses on Lady 
 Heathcote's desk, went out of the room. 
 
 "I beg that you will be more careful, Doris," Cyril 
 whispered. 
 
 She was silent a moment, and then after a glance at 
 the dining-room door, went on with more restraint. 
 
 "Pity and contempt are hardly the kind of ingredi- 
 ents that love can live on. They've poisoned mine. 
 It's dead. I don't want to see you again," she finished 
 coldly -"ever. I hope you understand." 
 
 He bowed his head and for a moment made no reply. 
 
 "I asked " he said slowly, "I hoped that you 
 
 would be willin* to trust me that you'd wait until I 
 was able to speak to you to explain the the things 
 you do not understand." 
 
 "Unfortunately," she put in distinctly, "there is 
 nothing that I do not understand. I know God help 
 you! what you are. I have done what I can to save 
 you from the fate you're courting and I shall still do 
 so, for the sake of of what once was was between 
 us. But I do not want to see you again. I have put 
 you out of my life completely as though you never 
 had been in it. And now," she rose, "will you let 
 me go?" 
 
 102
 
 EVIDENCE 
 
 "One moment, please," he said calmly. "You found 
 those papers last night?" 
 
 "Yes," she said coolly. "And if I did?" 
 
 He seemed to breathe more freely. 
 
 "I have nothing to say," he muttered. 
 
 "Oh," she said quickly, "I'm glad of that. Yon 
 don't deny ?" 
 
 "I deny nothing," he said with a shrug. "I see that 
 it would be useless." 
 
 "I'm glad you give me credit for that much intelli- 
 gence," she said scathingly. "You haven't done so 
 before." 
 
 "It was not your intelligence," he said gently, "so 
 much as your heart that I had relied upon." 
 
 "Oh, you thought I was a fool that you could use 
 indefinitely " 
 
 "No. I thought you were a woman that I could 
 count on indefinitely." 
 
 Something in the tone of his own voice made her 
 turn and look at him. 
 
 "A woman yes, but not an enemy of England." 
 
 He was silent again, and when he spoke it was not 
 to argue. His voice was subdued shamed even it 
 seemed. 
 
 "And now I suppose you will give the the papers 
 to Sandys," he said. 
 
 She examined him closely and pity for him seemed 
 even stronger than shame. 
 
 "It is a part of our misunderstanding," she said 
 coolly, "that you should think so little of me. I have 
 told you that I shall protect you. My hands shall be 
 clean, if my heart isn't." 
 
 "What will you do with the papers?" he asked. 
 
 "This," and she turned toward him "burn them." 
 103
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 She put her hand into her pocket, drew out the papers 
 and went toward the hearth. Her hand was even ex- 
 tended toward the fire when, with a quick movement, 
 he snatched the yellow packet from her fingers. 
 
 She fell away from him in dismay, as if she had been 
 touched by something poisonous, touching her wrist 
 and the fingers into which her rings had been driven. 
 Then she hid her face in her hands and closed her eyes. 
 
 "Oh!" she gasped. "You'd pay my generosity 
 with this!" 
 
 He had examined the papers coolly and had put 
 them into his pocket. 
 
 "I? I don't count in a game like this nor do you. 
 I'm sorry. They were mine. You took them. I had 
 to have them." 
 
 "Then this " she stammered, "this was what you 
 
 kept me here for?" 
 
 "I had to have them," he repeated dully. That was 
 all. Her wrist and fingers burned where he had hurt 
 them. A brute a coward as well as a traitor. She 
 straightened proudly and with a look at his bowed 
 head, she went by him and out of the room. 
 
 Hammersley stood as she had left him for a moment 
 and only raised his head when the parlor maid came in 
 again and replaced the brasses on Lady Heathcote's 
 desk. In his eyes there came a keen look and he took 
 a step forward. 
 
 "Do you always clean Lady Heathcote's brasses on 
 Friday?" he asked the maid. 
 
 She turned around with a startled air. 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir," she replied demurely. "Friday, sir." 
 
 "Oh !" said Hammersley. "Thanks." 
 
 She stood a moment as if awaiting further questions 
 and then went out. 
 
 104
 
 EVIDENCE 
 
 Hammersley followed her with his gaze and then 
 with a last look around the room went into the hall, put 
 on his fur coat and cap and quickly made his way to- 
 ward the garage. 
 
 Upstairs Doris paced her room in an agony of rage 
 and humiliation. She had meant to give him his dis- 
 missal kindly, but it was his abjectness that had made 
 her scornful abjectness worn as she now knew with 
 an object that was indifferent to scorn. It was only 
 with the purpose of getting the papers from her that 
 he had kept her there, and the contempt that she had 
 shown for him seemed but a piteous thing beside the 
 enormity of his brutality. He had not cared what 
 she thought of him. He had not cared. He had said 
 so himself. Their love was a trifle beside the greater 
 matter that concerned him. 
 
 He had led her on under the guise of a shame he did 
 not feel, from one revelation to another, playing upon 
 her emotions, upon things which should have been 
 sacred even to him in such an hour until with infinite 
 cunning he had made her bring out the papers and 
 then 
 
 Rage possessed her. She felt that she had been 
 tricked with weapons that he should have scorned to 
 use. She hated him at that moment, not as she hated 
 the secrecy and dishonor of his cause, but as a man 
 who could take advantage of a woman, as a hypocrite, 
 a coward, a bully. 
 
 She knew the fury of Dido, but she felt the pain of 
 Ariadne too. She heard the sound of his roadster and 
 ran to the window, peering dark-eyed through the mus- 
 lin curtains, and saw him go by under her windows, 
 low down in his seat, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, 
 driving fast, Stryker beside him. He passed without 
 8 105
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 even a glance upward or back out of her life. It 
 seemed to her that if he had turned his head just then 
 and given one look at the house even, she could have 
 forgiven him much, but she watched him until he turned 
 the angle of the road and was gone. 
 
 Their interview had seemed so brief in all it seemed 
 scarcely more than a moment to have made such a 
 horrible change in her way of looking at things. If 
 he had protested innocence, fought, if even so weakly, 
 against her evidence, fought with a man's strength 
 against odds the danger of losing the woman he wanted, 
 she could have seen him go with a calmness born of 
 woman's inherent right to dismiss. But this 
 Death surely was no worse than for a woman to be 
 spurned by such a man. 
 
 After a while tears came, and they helped her, tears 
 of anger, if you will, but tears, soft and humid, in 
 "which to a woman there is always a kind of bitter 
 sweetness, too. She threw herself on her bed in her 
 riding togs, her mannish coat and mannish boots, elo- 
 quent of their own pretensions. In spite of them and 
 the things they typified she was merely a very tired 
 little girl, weeping her heart out as other little girls 
 had done before and will again, because her lover had 
 gone away from her. 
 
 Toward luncheon time when the others were expected 
 to return she got up, bathed her eyes and, summoning 
 Wilson, changed into a dress for the afternoon. Pride 
 came to her rescue now, and with the help of her maid 
 and the mysterious process with which maids are fa- 
 miliar she managed to make herself presentable enough 
 to avoid notice from so keen an observer as her hostess. 
 Doris found herself smiling, and doing her share of 
 conversation in a mechanical way which left a ques- 
 
 lOfi
 
 EVIDENCE 
 
 tion in her mind as to the depth of her own emotions. 
 But the weight about her heart, the dull echo of re- 
 iterated thoughts pervaded all and she knew that it 
 was merely that her spirit was dulled, her heart numb, 
 like a nerve from the shock of a blow. She stole away 
 when she could with a book to the gun-room, where 
 she could sit alone and try to put her thoughts in 
 order.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE VIKING'S TOWER 
 
 THERE in the middle of the afternoon the butler 
 brought her a note. For a moment before 
 she read the superscription, a wild rush of 
 something which might have been joy yet could not be, 
 sent a pale flush of color into her cheek. But she 
 glanced at the envelope carelessly, and when the man 
 had gone, quickly opened it. 
 
 It was from John Rizzio, signed with the familiar 
 initials and begun without either name or qualifica- 
 tion: 
 
 You will think it strange, perhaps, that I should 
 write to you after the events of last night, because 
 the modesty of a woman is the last thing that for- 
 gives. My action is beyond apology and I offer 
 none for fear that it may be construed into a hope 
 a selfish hope of an unimaginable forgiveness. 
 Hope has passed that with the others, but some- 
 thing else remains, something less selfish than hope 
 and more vital than self-interest and that is a whole- 
 hearted wish that your honor may be kept free 
 from the taint of the dark and furtive things with 
 which it has come into contact. 
 
 I am not a man, as you know, to boast of disin- 
 terestedness. I have lived a life in which my own 
 affairs were always paramount, my own aims always 
 most important. I am telling you this to warn you 
 that my generosity to Hammersley is not actuated 
 by any love of a man who has spoiled my dearest 
 108
 
 THE VIKING'S TOWER 
 
 ambition, but by the continued esteem with which I 
 still regard yourself. I do not love him; and my 
 own wish, my duty, my own honor, my loyalty to 
 England all acclaim that he should be delivered at 
 once to those in authority. And yet I have refrained 
 
 for you, Doris. But I have learned that H 
 
 is in communication with G and that Crenshaw 
 
 of Scotland Yard is on the alert. I may not be able 
 to save him. 
 
 This is an appeal to the one person who has the 
 most influence with him and I ask that you use what- 
 ever power over him you possess to bring him to 
 a sense of the impossibility of his mad plans. If 
 you still have doubt as to the character of the work 
 he has undertaken, I ask that you go to Ben-a-Chielt 
 tonight and listen secretly to convincing proof of 
 what he is. For tonight at one o'clock on the cliffs 
 near the old Viking's Tower, he will meet a per- 
 sonal messenger from G . 
 
 I appeal to you for England but more than for 
 England, for yourself. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 J. R. 
 
 Doris read the note through again and again, her 
 thoughts blurring unpleasantly, like a photograph out 
 of focus. It seemed impossible that she could do what 
 he asked of her. Every instinct, wounded and sore 
 from her last encounter, revolted at the thought of 
 meeting Cyril again under the conditions presented. 
 It was impossible that she should go. Cyril would 
 only laugh at her or, what would be worse, show her 
 the callousness and brutality that he had done this 
 morning. Rizzio asked her to do what she could. 
 Why should she save him? What had he done to 
 merit such a sacrifice of pride on her part. The past? 
 
 109
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 That was dead and Cyril buried with it. England? 
 She put her head forward into her hands and pressed 
 her fingers to her temples. England! 
 
 As the afternoon faded into night the conviction 
 grew in Doris's mind that the situation made personal 
 considerations unimportant. After dinner she excused 
 herself and, dressing warmly, toward twelve o'clock 
 went downstairs past the library door and out to the 
 stables. She found a sleepy groom and, giving him a 
 liberal fee as the price of his silence, had a side-saddle 
 put on a good horse and made her way in the direction 
 of Ben-a-Chielt. She knew the road well, for she had 
 traveled it many times with Cyril and Betty during 
 the previous summer when all the world was gay and 
 she and Cyril were lovers. She was a little nervous 
 at being alone on the moor in the darkness, but not 
 frightened. She gave herself greater hardihood by 
 trying to remember that Cyril and Rizzio were gentle- 
 men, one of whom she had thought she could have 
 trusted with her life, the other a friend who wanted to 
 be trusted with it and now protested he held her 
 honor dearer than his own. Not her enemies surely; 
 and the thought of physical harm from either of them, 
 the only thing that could have deterred her from this 
 midnight venture, did not occur to her. But as she 
 i came to Saltham Rocks, the scene of Cyril's last night's 
 encounter, she pressed forward more rapidly with a 
 keen eye upon the gray blur of the road. She reached 
 the cross-roads, her breath coming a little more rap- 
 idly, pulled her horse down to a walk and turned in 
 upon Cyril's property, going forward more slowly. 
 Until the present moment she had formulated no plan 
 of action, nor had counted upon the possibilities of 
 discovery, so she rode cautiously, making a long de- 
 
 110
 
 THE VIKING'S TOWEE 
 
 tour across the moor to avoid the lights of one of the 
 keepers' houses which stood upon the road. She found 
 that she had to choose her way among the rocks and 
 whins, but her horse was sure-footed, and at a walk 
 there was little danger of a cropper. She kept the 
 road in sight and by the fitful light of the stars, be- 
 tween the rack of mist and clouds that were coming 
 in from the sea, she made her way in the general di- 
 rection of the Lodge. On her right she had glimpses 
 of the sea beyond the cliffs and heard the pounding of 
 the surf upon the rocks and shingle. The Viking's 
 Tower was up among the rocks near Beaufort Head, 
 half a mile beyond the house. She had been there with 
 Cyril many times, and from the ruined wall had sat 
 with him and looked out over the North Sea, while he 
 had told her in his sportive vernacular the story of 
 the tower and of the "Johnnies" who had built it. It 
 was difficult to identify that Cyril now with the man 
 of mystery lurking out here somewhere in the dark, 
 his mind set on the odious business of betraying his 
 country. 
 
 The Lodge was set inland from the sea in a valley 
 between two ridges which narrowed down to a fissure 
 in the rocks that fell away to Beaufort Cove, a small 
 harbor almost land-locked where Cyril kept his motor- 
 boats and sloop. As the girl approached the Lodge, 
 she turned far to the left and made a wide circle 
 among the hills, so that there could be no chance of 
 inquisitive eyes discovering the bold silhouette of her 
 horse against the sky. Slowly she climbed the lower 
 ridges of Ben-a-Chielt until she reached a level spot, 
 high above the house, garage, stables and hangar, 
 where she stopped for a moment to rest her winded 
 horse. 
 
 Ill
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 Below her a wild panorama of land and wind-blown 
 sky, the ragged profile of black rocks etched deep into 
 the sullen gray of the sea. Seen from this height the 
 contours were unfamiliar to her and the purpose of 
 her grim visit gave the grim vista a dramatic signifi- 
 cance that was almost theatrical. Long lines emerged 
 from the dark blur of sea and sky and roared in upon 
 the rocks that guarded the harbor upon which they 
 were shivered into foam. Inside the rim of rocks the 
 placid cove calmly reflected the sky. She saw the 
 motor-boats near the landing, made out the specter 
 lines of Cyril's sloop, the Wmdbird, and in the shadow 
 of the cliffs saw another vessel, the lines of which were 
 unfamiliar. This craft was long and slender with a 
 wireless mast and two large smoke-stacks. No lights 
 showed aboard of her, but there were signs of activity, 
 for while the girl looked a small boat was lowered and 
 was pulled for the landing; and suddenly the real 
 meaning of this dark vessel was borne to her. There 
 was no mistaking the grim profile of the thing that 
 projected from the forward superstructure and the 
 curving decks which met the water in such slender 
 lines. It was a war-vessel, a destroyer, and the man 
 who was putting out for the shore was the German 
 messenger who was to meet Cyril Hammersley at Ben- 
 a-Chielt. She trembled and clung to the pommel of her 
 saddle. The brief joyous moments that had come to 
 her at intervals during the evening as she thought of 
 the inflections of Cyril's voice, of the weary look she 
 * had seen in his eyes, and hoped that even tonight he 
 might be able to justify himself in her own thoughts at 
 least were engulfed in the damning conviction of what 
 she saw before her. John Rizzio had told her the truth. 
 How he had learned what was to happen, she did not 
 
 112
 
 THE VIKING'S TOWER 
 
 know or care, but the accuracy of his information was 
 no longer a matter to doubt. 
 
 She looked around her in the darkness toward the 
 way by which she had come, really frightened for the 
 first time that evening as at the palpable presence of 
 sin. For a moment she hesitated in her intention to 
 go forward. She had seen enough to convince her. 
 There was no need of more. But the real object of her 
 mission nerved her to her task. She must go on at 
 once if she wished to reach the Tower in time to con- 
 ceal herself. So she pressed her horse along the hill, 
 and when she had crossed the ridge rode down in a 
 path parallel to the edge of the cliffs, which brought 
 her after a while into a line with Beaufort Head, where 
 she could see the dim mass of the ruin rising above the 
 chaos of rock that surrounded it. 
 
 When she reached a spot not too far distant, she 
 dismounted in a clump of bushes and fastening the 
 bridle of her horse to the gnarled limb of a stunted 
 tree, crept forward on foot. The excitement of the 
 venture and its possible consequences now gave her 
 renewed strength and caution. Moving to the left, 
 toward the northern side of the Tower, she clambered 
 over the rocks toward the sea. There should be plenty 
 of time to reach a place of concealment before the 
 I occupant of the boat had time to climb the steep and 
 tortuous path from the landing, and peering from side 
 to side, pausing from time to time to listen, she reached 
 the shadow of Table Rock, a huge slab of granite 
 which had been tossed by some convulsion of Nature 
 upon the very summit of the Head. The physical con- 
 tours of the place made her approach an easy one, for 
 the cliffs were strewn with bowlders and it was easy to 
 slip from one to another without detection. 
 
 113
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 Assured that the spot that she had reached was as 
 near the Tower as she dared approach for the present, 
 she wedged herself into a crevice between two rocks, 
 into which she might pass and go out by the other side, 
 and sank down upon her knees and waited. The mo- 
 ments passed slowly. Where was John Rizzio? Would 
 Cyril never come? She had a moment of horror in the 
 thought that the German messenger might come and 
 discover her before Cyril arrived. What would he do 
 to her? Kill her, of course. And in a panic of sinking 
 nerves she thought of getting to her feet and fleeing 
 into the friendly darkness from which she had come. 
 She had even risen and her head was just below the 
 level of the top of her refuge when she heard footsteps 
 close by and got the odor of a cigarette. So she sank 
 back, her hand at her heart to quiet its throbbings. 
 
 The footsteps passed her, returned and then went 
 toward the Tower and she bared her head and peered 
 cautiously out. A tall figure in a long coat and deer- 
 stalker cap was standing watching the path to the 
 landing. She could not see his features, but she knew 
 that it was Cyril. For one moment she thought of 
 running to him and throwing herself at his feet and 
 pleading with him while there was still time to go away 
 into the darkness with her anywhere before this 
 stranger should reach him. But her courage failed 
 her and she sank back into her corner. And when 
 she straightened again her moment had passed, for she 
 heard other footsteps to her right of a man as he clam- 
 bered up the rocks. He passed quite near her, a burly 
 man in a naval cap and coat, out of breath from his 
 exertions. 
 
 Cyril came forward to meet him, and she heard the 
 short words of their greeting. 
 
 114
 
 "Herr Hammersley ?" 
 
 "Ja." 
 
 She peered out and saw the burly man straighten, 
 his heels together, and touch his fingers to the rim of 
 his cap. Cyril bowed and asked a question and the 
 other replied in a sentence that contained the word 
 "Hochheit," which was the only word she understood. 
 She crept a little closer so that she could hear more 
 distinctly, hoping that her slight knowledge of German 
 might aid her. She watched Cyril to see if he passed 
 anything to the German officer. Instead of this the 
 German took a letter from an inside pocket and handed 
 it to Cyril, and she heard the words "Hochheit" again 
 and "Excellenz" a message it seemed from some 
 prince, or from some general or high official of the 
 German Government. Cyril appeared to offer apol- 
 ogies and broke the seal of the envelope, bringing from 
 the pocket of his overcoat an electric torch, by the aid 
 of which he read the letter. Doris could see his face 
 quite plainly in the reflected light from the page, and 
 marked the deep lines at his brows and the stern look 
 at his mouth and chin. He went over the document 
 twice very carefully, and then as he turned to his com- 
 panion she heard his voice saying quite distinctly in 
 German: 
 
 "You know the purport of this paper?" 
 
 "No, Herr Hammersley," said the officer. "My or- 
 ders are merely to deliver this letter which was to re- 
 ceive your acceptance." 
 
 Cyril paused for a long moment, tapping the docu- 
 ment lightly with his finger and then taking a pencil 
 from his pocket bent over and upon the nearest rock 
 wrote something. Then he slipped the letter into its 
 envelope and handed it to the other, who put it into 
 
 115
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 his pocket, saluted again and with a hurried farewell 
 turned down the path and was gone. 
 
 That was all. The interview had not lasted more 
 than five minutes, but Doris knew by the look she had 
 seen on Cyril's face that danger threatened. The let- 
 ter had contained a command, a command from a 
 German officer of high rank to Cyril Hammersley a 
 spy receiving his orders from the government he served. 
 If he had gone back to the Lodge at this moment she 
 would have let him go past her without a word, for 
 the bitterness came back into her heart and engulfed 
 all purpose. She sat in her place of concealment, 
 peering out at him, fascinated. He moved nearer and 
 then stood, his feet braced on the rocks, gazing down 
 the path by which his midnight visitor had disappeared. 
 How long he stood there motionless she could not 
 know, but as the moments passed and he did not move, 
 she rose from her cranny, her trembling nerves seek- 
 ing an outlet in motion or speech. Why didn't he 
 move? 
 
 At last her overtaxed nerves could no longer endure 
 and she came out of the shadow and spoke his name. 
 Still he made no motion, and she realized that her lips 
 had made no sound. But her foot touched a small 
 stone, which fell among the rocks, and she saw him 
 wheel around and face her quickly, something glitter- 
 ing in his hand, while his voice rang sharply. 
 
 "Stand where you are !" 
 
 He took a few threatening steps toward her, his 
 look studying her small bulk. 
 
 "It's I, Cyril," she said faintly, "Doris." 
 
 "You!" He glanced to right and left, putting the 
 thing in his pocket and faced her, incredulous. "What 
 are you doing here, Doris?" 
 
 116
 
 THE VIKING'S TOWER 
 
 "I came to to see you again- 
 
 His eyes were still searching the darkness around 
 them. 
 
 "Who told you to come here?" 
 
 "No one," she lied. "I followed you." 
 
 "Who saw you come? You heard?" 
 
 "Yes- " slowly. "O Cyril I can't let you go 
 
 from me like this " 
 
 She put her face to her hands and felt his arms 
 enfold her. She trembled, but in this weakness a new 
 kind of strength came to her. "I want you to come 
 with me away away from all this for me for Eng- 
 land. It's my last appeal you must not refuse it. I 
 I want you so, Cyril, as it used to be." 
 
 She felt his lips gently touch her brow and heard his 
 [whisper, 
 
 "God bless you!" 
 
 She clung to him desperately, to his caress, the one 
 sure symbol of his purity 
 
 "I love you, Cyril," she murmured, "I can't help 
 it. I've tried not to. But you couldn't kiss me like 
 this, reverently, if you did not love me well enough to 
 forget everything else. Say you do, dear." 
 
 "I love you," he whispered again. "But you must 
 not stay here. You must " 
 
 "Doesn't it mean something to you that I came," 
 she went on breathlessly, "that I could forget what* 
 happened that the love that was in my heart for you 
 was greater than my hatred of what you are? I came 
 so that you could know it by the difficulty, the danger 
 that I ran. I don't care what others may think of 
 me. The only thing that matters is to have you again. 
 You don't know what it cost me to come. I am not the 
 kind to be held so lightly, Cyril. I have forgotten my 
 
 117
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 pride, even my sense of what is fitting for a girl to do, 
 in the hope that you will listen to me." 
 
 "Yes," he murmured, "but not now, Doris. You 
 must go back." 
 
 "Not yet " she protested. 
 
 "I I have much to do " he said. 
 
 "That messenger O Cyril you mustn't. Come 
 back with me tonight now " 
 
 "I can't," he muttered. "It it is important for 
 me to stay here " 
 
 She loosened his arms and stood away from him, 
 peering down into the cove where clouds of black 
 smoke were belching from the funnels of the black ves- 
 sel. The water of the cove was churning in its wake 
 and its prow was turning toward the harbor mouth. 
 
 Suddenly she saw Cyril start and peer around him 
 in the darkness. 
 
 "Who sent you here?" she heard his voice in a 
 strangled whisper at her ear. 
 
 "No one," she denied again, "I followed you." 
 
 "That isn't possible, Doris," he said quickly. "I 
 have reasons for knowing. You were here before I 
 
 came. Rizzio told you He knew what was to 
 
 happen he was the only one who could have known." 
 
 "Why?" Her curiosity sent all subterfuge flying. 
 She could see his pale face in the moonlight. 
 
 "Because it was Rizzio who sent this messenger to 
 meet me." 
 
 "Rizzio!" The mystery was deepening. "I can't 
 understand." 
 
 He hesitated a long moment before replying, as 
 though weighing something in his mind. 
 
 "I'll teU you this much," he said at last. "You've 
 a right to know. Rizzio told you that he was an agent 
 
 118
 
 THE VIKING'S TOWER 
 
 of the English Government. It's my word against his. 
 You can believe me or not if you like. Rizzio is a spy 
 of Germany!" 
 
 "Impossible! John Rizzio " she whispered 
 
 aghast. 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 "The pot callin' the kettle black what? It's the 
 truth." 
 
 "But Rizzio! What object would he have in betray- 
 ing England? A man of his position!" 
 
 "That's the kind of men England's enemies want," 
 put in Cyril dryly. 
 
 "But he has no need of money. Not money. Im- 
 possible !" 
 
 "No, not money. There are other things that John 
 Rizzio values more than money." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 He caught her by the arm impressively to make his 
 meaning clear. "You don't know the passion of col- 
 lectors. They would sell their souls for the things 
 they want. The things that seem impossible are the 
 things they want the most." 
 
 "But I don't understand." 
 
 "After the war Rizzio is to be permitted to 'buy* 
 Rubens's 'Descent from the Cross' from the German 
 Government." 
 
 "Oh!" she gasped in horror. A new idea of the 
 terrible possibilities of duplicity was borne to her. But 
 she couldn't believe. 
 
 "How do you know this?" she asked. 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 "It's one of the things I stopped in London to find 
 out." 
 
 "Then you " 
 
 119
 
 "I am a German spy." 
 
 "I don't believe you," she cried proudly. There 
 Was a note of joy in her voice, a momentary note which 
 seemed to trail off' into one of terror. "Cyril!" she 
 whispered. "Rizzio ! He wrote me to come here." 
 
 "I knew it." 
 
 "But he said he " she hesitated. "Why did h( 
 
 want me to come? There must have been some other 
 reasons besides wanting me to see he's here, Cyril 
 somewhere " 
 
 Hammersley started and turned, his hand in his 
 pocket, and Doris followed his look. Three men had 
 risen from among the rocks toward the Tower. 
 
 "Don't move, Hammersley," said Rizzio's voice. 
 "You're in danger, Doris." 
 
 But the girl was clinging to Cyril's arm. "No, no," 
 she was crying. Several shots rang out as Cyril threw 
 her aside, dashing forward. One of the men seemecf 
 to stumble among the rocks and fall heavily. The 
 other came in toward Cyril, his arm raised, but an- 
 other shot from behind the rocks made him pause, twist 
 half around, his hand to his shoulder as Cyril caught 
 him a blow which sent him reeling to the edge of the 
 cliff, over which he hung for a moment, peering down- 
 wards in horror, and then disappeared from view. 
 
 "Well done, Stryker," she heard Cyril cry. "The 
 other this way. Don't let him get off." 
 
 And Stryker disappeared after Rizzio.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 IN a daze Doris saw Cyril bend over the prostrate 
 figure and then come toward her. 
 "Dead?" she whispered in horror. 
 
 But he didn't seem to hear her. He caught her by 
 the arm and forcibly led her inland. 
 
 "Dead!" she whispered again. "It might have been 
 you." 
 
 "Or you," she heard him say sharply. 
 
 "Me?" 
 
 "Yes. But it's my fault. I should have guessed." 
 
 "John Rizzio would kill me. Oh, it's unbelievable !' 9 
 
 "You know too much." He gave a short laugh. 
 "Far too much for your own good or mine." He 
 caught her suddenly by both arms and made her look 
 straight into his eyes. "Doris, you've seen nothing, 
 you've heard nothing tonight. Do you understand?" 
 
 His grasp on her arms hurt her but she bore it with- 
 out a murmur. 
 
 "Yes," she said. 
 
 "You swear it?" 
 
 "Yes," faintly, "I do." 
 
 "I've got to go away from Ben-a-Chielt tonight. I 
 can't tell you why. You've got to go straight to Kil- 
 morack House now. You rode over. Take the short 
 cut by Horsham Hill. It's not so well known. I 
 would go with you but I haven't a moment to spare. 
 Don't trust anyone not even the maids at the house. 
 9
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 Go back to London tomorrow with Jack Sandys and 
 don't let him leave you until you're safe at Ashwater 
 Park. Where's your horse?" 
 
 She told him and followed blindly. 
 
 "Where are you going, Cyril?" she pleaded. 
 
 "It doesn't matter." 
 
 He found the horse and untied the bridle. 
 
 "Tell me, Cyril. I've earned the right to know." 
 
 "Something has happened," he said quietly, "which 
 has put all my plans in danger " 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "Yes. The thing I've been trying to do may fail. 
 It hangs or falls by this issue." 
 
 "But what what?" 
 
 "You can't know that," he said quickly. "Don't 
 ask me anything more. I can't answer. But trust in 
 me if you can. Trust in me, Doris, and if you love 
 me silence!" 
 
 He gave her a lift into the saddle and kissed her 
 hand. Then he looked around him and gave a parting 
 inj unction. 
 
 "Now cut sharp off to the right in the darkness until 
 you strike the old sheep trail. You can see it quite 
 plainly in the heather. Follow it to the head of the 
 ridge, then take the road to Horsham Hill. Good-by 
 and God bless you." 
 
 A sob rose in her throat and she could only wave a 
 hand in reply. And so she left him standing there 
 alone gazing after her with bared head in the dark- 
 ness. The strain on her nerves had told on her and she 
 sat her side-saddle listlessly holding on by the pommel, 
 and peering into the darkness before her, with eyes 
 that saw nothing but pictures of death. She could 
 not forget the wounded man grasping at space as he
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 tottered on the rim of the rocks. Cyril had killed a 
 man. War! She had thought war a more glorious 
 thing. This seemed very like murder. She blessed 
 God for Stryker who had come so opportunely. Riz- 
 zio had tried to kill Cyril. In horror she had seen him 
 raise his pistol and aim, but at her cry he had missed 
 his shot and with the disabling of his confederates he 
 had fled. 
 
 Rizzio was a German spy. Then since they were 
 enemies of course Cyril was loyal playing a part to 
 deceive the enemy learning its secrets that England 
 might profit by them. The message! What was the 
 message that the German naval officer had brought 
 which had so disturbed Cyril? What was this mys- 
 terious duty of Cyril's which meant so much to his 
 cause, the success or failure of which hung by a thread? 
 She tried to think what Cyril could do in England and 
 after a time the thing began to come to her. Cyril 
 was acting for England. He had succeeded, in the 
 guise of a German secret agent, in finding the traitor 
 in the War Office, and it was Cyril who had caused 
 the arrest of Captain Byfield. Rizzio, too, was a Ger- 
 man spy who for some reason or other had been sent 
 O God that was it. The Germans suspected Cyril 
 and had used John Rizzio to put him to the test 
 had set a thief to catch a thief. Cyril had found that 
 the message was a dangerous one and had refused to 
 give it up to Rizzio. That seemed to explain every- 
 thing Cyril's willingness to have her burn the pa- 
 pers, Rizzio's anxiety to save them, that he might send 
 them to his employers. The second packet of papers? 
 A false message, prepared for a purpose which Cyril 
 was to fulfill. The German naval officer! His mes- 
 sage what was it? Imagination refused to aid her. 
 
 123
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 She could not understand. He brought a command 
 a test of Cyril's loyalty to Germany perhaps? Was 
 that it? And if so, what? A test which meant victory 
 or defeat that was what Cyril's last words had meant. 
 Victory or defeat life or death. It was a desperate 
 game that he was playing. And what was he going to 
 do tonight that made it necessary for him to leave her 
 to ride to Kilmorack House alone? 
 
 Bewildered and weary with excitement and much 
 thinking, she gave it up, and as in a daze set her mind 
 to the task of finding the way to Horsham Hill. She 
 rode on inland searching for the old sheep trail as 
 Cyril had described it to her, but as the minutes went 
 by and she did not find it she began to think that she 
 must have passed it in the darkness. She had ridden 
 at a walk for hours it seemed, keeping as she thought 
 in a direction which would surely lead her to a road 
 toward the Hill, but she realized now that she was lost 
 on the moor and that it might be morning before she 
 would find her way to Betty Heathcote's. She stopped 
 her horse and peered in every direction. Nothing but 
 the undulations of the moor, hill and dale, a dead tree 
 outlined against the sky, masses of rock uncouth in 
 form, bushes which whispered in the wind, the babble 
 of a tarn somewhere behind her, though she had not 
 remembered passing it. There were no lights in any 
 direction, none even from the heavens, for the stars 
 had gone out. After a long while she wondered 
 vaguely what time it was. She had no watch, but it 
 seemed that a paleness like that which precedes the 
 dawn had spread along the sky though it hardly 
 seemed possible it could be so late as that. Three 
 four o'clock she thought it might be perhaps later. 
 The one thing that now seemed to persist in her mind
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 was the hope that Wilson had obeyed orders and kept 
 Lady Heathcote in ignorance of her absence. 
 
 She was startled by her horse which, without mov- 
 ing, had stretched his neck and whinnied loudly. He, 
 too, had realized the aimlessness of their wanderings 
 and wanted the warm stalls at the Kilmorack stables. 
 Doris tried to think what was best to do. All sense 
 of direction was gone and she was beyond even the 
 sound of the sea. At last she decided to try a slight 
 eminence and see if she could make out the bulk of 
 Ben-a-Chielt, but a mist had fallen, and when she 
 reached the height she was no wiser than before. For- 
 tunately, it was not cold, and if she did not fall from 
 the saddle in utter weariness, daylight would show her 
 a way. She got down from her horse and, fastening 
 him to a bush, walked to and fro to keep awake, wait- 
 ing for the day, for at sunrise she could make her way 
 toward the east until she reached the coast, after which 
 by following the cliffs to the right she would reach 
 the Lodge, and from there the way to Kilmorack 
 House. 
 
 She had grown accustomed to the silences and now 
 and then paused in her pacing to stop and listen. 
 She thought she heard a sound different from the 
 others behind her it seemed, a subdued murmur, 
 which, as she listened, grew in intensity until she 
 clearly made it out to be the quick reverberations of a 
 motor, running with its cut-out open. It was coming 
 fast, and in a moment a long fan of light shot across 
 the sky from below the brow of a distant hill and then 
 fell suddenly to earth, where it picked out the shapes 
 of trees and bushes along what appeared to be its 
 road. The motor was not traveling toward her, but 
 at an angle which would make it pass near her, but 
 
 125
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 quickly as she mounted and rode toward it she was 
 unable even to come within earshot before the machine 
 had passed and was lost to sight in the distance. It 
 had not gone by so rapidly that Doris had not been 
 able to make out on a rise of ground against the sky 
 the profile of a roadster and the shapes of two men. 
 Cyril and Stryker! There could be no doubt of it, 
 for the body of Cyril's car was familiar to her and 
 the chances of any other machine being abroad in this 
 locality at this hour were remote indeed. Where were 
 they going? In which direction? Toward Saltham 
 Rocks or northward? She did not know, but decided 
 to take the chance and follow. She reached the road 
 without difficulty a trail it appeared to be with well- 
 defined wheel tracks and the marks of hoofs. She 
 pressed her horse onward in the wake of the speeding 
 machine, not to overtake it, but to reach a destination 
 of some sort which would be better than the utter 
 loneliness of the desolate moor, the silence and inac- 
 tion of which made her a prey to unhappy thoughts. 
 Her horse was willing, and as the going was good 
 broke into a brisk trot which for a while kept the glow 
 of the swinging searchlight of the machine in sight. 
 But presently that, too, disappeared and all was as 
 before. And glancing above she understood. To her 
 right a pale streak of light was showing along the 
 horizon, and above her between patches of dark clouds 
 she caught a faint reflection of violet light. It was 
 the beginning of the dawn. 
 
 Dawn on her right that meant the east. She was 
 riding north, then. North and to what destination? 
 She had ridden this road with Cyril, but never to its 
 end, which as she knew was among the unhospitable 
 crags of Rudha Mor, a wild spot unfrequented by any
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 except Cyril's gamekeepers. What was Cyril's errand 
 in the night to such a place when everything that had 
 happened would seem to indicate the necessity for his 
 immediate return to London? The same kind of curi- 
 osity that had made her open the package of cigarette 
 papers against Cyril's wishes, stimulated her to fol- 
 low this quest to its end. She forgot that she had had 
 no sleep all night, and little the night before. Of 
 physical weariness now she seemed to have none, and 
 in the growing light she urged her tired horse forward 
 into a hand gallop which covered the miles swiftly. 
 She came to the cliffs and saw the sea, passed inland 
 again. The going was rougher here, less turf and 
 more rocks and whins, while to her left the hills were 
 split by crags which protruded in fantastic shapes, 
 like heads of prisoned monsters of the underworld 
 which had forced their way up through the crust of 
 the earth to the light of day. It was curious. The 
 trail was well worn here as it had been before, and 
 there were signs of much hauling. What was going on 
 at Rudha Mor? The place could not be far distant, 
 for she saw that the road wound up the rocks and fell 
 away rapidly into a deep gorge, the further side of 
 which she could see, dimly colored with the opalescent 
 tint of the East. This she thought must be nearly the 
 end of her ride. She did not know what was in store 
 for her and was doubtful as to her wisdom, but she was 
 eaten with curiosity, and dismounted, led her horse 
 slowly to the lip of the gorge and peered over. What 
 she saw made her gasp. She drew quickly back, teth- 
 ered her horse to a bush and came forward again. 
 Near by, under a shed built on the brink of the cliff, 
 was Cyril's roadster, but of Cyril and Stryker she 
 saw no sign. Beneath her feet the cliffs fell away rap- 
 
 127
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 idly by easy steps, down which she marked a well-worn 
 footpath. The bottom of the gorge was of rock and 
 sand shelving gradually toward the sea and fairly in 
 its middle, built strongly of rough lumber, she saw a 
 shed with wide doors which even now were open a 
 large hangar from which as she looked several figures 
 wheeled forth a huge aeroplane to a platform of 
 planks which extended for a long way toward the sea. 
 From a distance it was difficult to judge its measure- 
 ments, but by comparison with the heights of the men 
 Doris knew that she had never seen a machine so large. 
 As the east grew lighter she could see Cyril plainly. 
 He came out of the hangar dressed in leather, gave 
 some orders which made the other figures hurry and a 
 series of deafening explosions from the engine as they 
 "tuned it up," gave Doris a sense of immediate depar- 
 ture. For a while she watched, fascinated, her interest 
 in the size of this huge toy and its possibilities making 
 a separate mind-picture which superseded all those 
 that had gone before. But as the light grew stronger 
 and she made out the color of the wide yellow planes, 
 she started up with a cry which would, have been heard 
 by the men below her had it not been for the racket 
 that the engine was making. "A huge machine with 
 yellow wings," she remembered Jack Sandys' descrip- 
 tion, "a thousand horsepower at least." The Yellow 
 Dove this was the Yellow Dove and the man of mys- 
 tery, its driver, was Cyril. 
 
 Spellbound and trembling with excitement, she 
 watched Cyril climb up into one of the seats. Cyril 
 was going to fly to the Germans, she knew it now, to 
 obey the commands which had been brought last night 
 by the German officer, commands to come to Germany 
 and explain his failure to deliver his secret message to 
 
 128
 
 'Her lips . . . were whispering words that she hoped could 
 follow him into the distance."

 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 Rizzio. They suspected him and yet he was going to 
 face them. It was desperate, foolhardy, insane. He 
 would never come back. Not victory, but death that 
 was what it meant. She ran out to the very edge of 
 the rocks, shrieking his name, but the sounds were 
 lost in the fearful din of the motor below. The ex- 
 plosions echoed and reechoed in the gorge which seemed 
 to quiver with the volume of sound. Not a head from 
 below was turned up to look at her and she had a sense 
 of her own unimportance in the immensity of Cyril's 
 viewpoint. She saw the yellow machine start slowly 
 down the incline, gathering momentum as it ran until 
 it left the runway and rose magnificently, its engine 
 roaring steadily, clearing the surf and rocks and head- 
 ing straight into the growing day. 
 
 O God! That she should have suspected him of 
 anything base and dishonorable a man who could 
 face death as he was doing, as he had been doing for 
 months. Cyril the Yellow Dove. There could be no 
 doubt of it, for she had seen with her own eyes. She 
 understood now many things that had been a mystery 
 before; why he could not speak to her; the reasons for 
 his occasional absences, for his air of indifference, for 
 his coolness in the face of adverse criticism. She 
 understood about John Rizzio and the reasons why 
 Cyril had wanted her to take such precautions in get- 
 ting safely back to Ashwater Park, precautions which 
 she had disregarded. But what mattered about her 
 when Cyril every day, every hour for months had taken 
 chances against death, the most ignominious death of 
 all! 
 
 Her heart was big with pride in him and she fol- 
 lowed the Yellow Dove with her gaze, now rising high 
 and diminishing rapidly in the mist, her soul in her 
 
 129
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 moist eyes and on her lips which were whispering 
 words that she hoped could follow him into the dis- 
 tance. Her Cyril, still hers, and England's the 
 Honorable Cyril whom the world had come to know 
 as the Yellow Dove. 
 
 She stood in the shelter of the rocks, for she knew 
 now in which way her duty to Cyril lay, and waited 
 until the aeroplane was but a speck against the sky, 
 when she turned with a sigh which was almost a gasp of 
 weariness and walked slowly toward her horse. The 
 ride before her was long, but by good riding she might 
 still reach Kilmarock House before Lady Betty's 
 guests were up. Otherwise her reputation was gone. 
 She knew that, for she could make no explanation of 
 any kind. On that she was 
 
 Quick footsteps behind her her arms caught from 
 behind a glimpse of a strange face and then some- 
 thing white over her head a pungent odor and un- 
 consciousness.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 VON STROMBERG 
 
 IN the Taunus range north of the Schwartzwald, 
 lies the village of Windenberg, on the slopes of 
 the well-wooded hills that lead by slow stages 
 to higher elevations of the Grosser Feldberg. In the 
 valleys are vineyards, orchards, chestnut and almond- 
 groves and in times of peace, the people are con- 
 tented, well-to-do and industrious. The schloss of the 
 Counts von Winden stands upon an eminence and looks 
 down upon a rolling country of velvety woods extend- 
 ing for miles along the slope of the range. In this 
 region of firs and beech trees one might walk for miles 
 off the roads without coming upon a sign of human 
 habitation, or indeed without passing the boundaries 
 of the von Winden estate. 
 
 But three miles from Winden Schloss well hidden 
 among the hills was a spot of cleared land containing 
 perhaps two hundred acres which had been once used 
 by the von Winden family as a farm, but had been 
 taken since the beginning of the war by the State for 
 purposes of its own. A good road led to Windenberg 
 five miles away through the forest, but much secrecy 
 attached to Blaufelden, as the place was called. Men 
 of the Imperial Forest Service kept guard upon all the 
 roads, and no one but those having official permission 
 were allowed to come within two miles of the place. 
 
 A visit would have soon explained the reasons for 
 this extraordinary care on the part of the men in uni- 
 
 131
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 form, for not far from the house and stables, unob- 
 trusive buildings of brick and stone, were aviation 
 sheds, a well-supplied garage and storage houses, 
 which indicated at almost any hour of the day or night 
 a military activity. 
 
 Within the farmhouse of Blaufelden, rather late in 
 a night in March a tall iron-gray figure, slender, but- 
 toned to the neck in a close-fitting uniform coat, paced 
 slowly up and down. A plain wooden table stood in 
 the center of the room. It was lighted by a lamp with 
 a green shade and covered with papers arranged in 
 orderly piles. There were chairs, strongly but simply 
 made, and a sad-colored rug, and the walls were dec- 
 orated with pictures of hunting scenes, while over the 
 stone fireplace in which the pine logs intermittently 
 blazed, there was a colored lithograph of the Emperor 
 of Germany. It was the kind of room, and the kind 
 of furniture one would expect to find in any of the 
 rural districts of the great empire, with the one dif- 
 ference that nowhere was there visible the touch of a 
 woman's hand. Whatever its original purpose the 
 room at the present moment contained only the essen- 
 tials of the barest comfort. And the figure of the 
 man in uniform, erect, silent and austere, completed 
 the impression which the barrack-like simplicity of his 
 surroundings created order, cleanliness, efficiency ex- 
 pressed in the simplest terms. 
 
 The German officer stopped pacing the room and 
 touched a bell upon the table. His brows were fur- 
 rowed and his broad capable hands tapped impatiently 
 among the documents. His summons was answered 
 almost immediately by a man in the uniform of the 
 Jagers, the Imperial Forest Service, who stood silently 
 his heels together awaiting orders. 
 
 132
 
 VON STROMBERG 
 
 "There has been no word?" asked the officer in 
 German. 
 
 "None, Excellenz." 
 
 "You stationed your men as I directed?" 
 
 "Yes, Excellenz " 
 
 The officer paused. And then, "Send Herr Haupt- 
 mann von Winden the moment he arrives." 
 
 The man saluted, wheeled and went out, closing the 
 door noiselessly behind him. The tall figure regarded 
 the door fixedly for a moment in deep thought, and 
 then tapped the back of his left hand with the fingers 
 of his right, a habit he had when things were not go- 
 ing to his liking. General Graf von Stromberg, Privy 
 Councilor to the German Emperor and head of the 
 military sections of the Secret Service, was not a per- 
 son accustomed to have things go wrong, and delay of 
 any kind annoyed him exceedingly. 
 
 But the door of the room opened and a young offi- 
 cer in uniform appeared and stood awaiting the will 
 of his superior. He was blond, ruddy and well set up 
 and bore all the marks of the army training a mem- 
 ber beyond doubt of the military caste with something 
 in the clearly cut, if somewhat arrogant, features of 
 his face which suggested good blood and lineage. 
 
 "Ah, Herr Hauptmann!" said the General, frown- 
 ing. "You have heard?" 
 
 "Yes, Excellenz. He should be here by midnight." 
 
 "What was the cause of the delay?" 
 
 "He was forced to come down at Ostend, yesterday. 
 It has taken him all day to make repairs. Pie is on 
 the way now." 
 
 Von Stromberg grunted and sank into his chair at 
 the table, motioning the younger officer into one beside 
 him. 
 
 133
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "Come, sit down. Let's forget that we are parts of 
 the intricate machinery of State. Here is a cigar. 
 Smoke. It will do you good." 
 
 Von Winden, flattered by this mark of condescen- 
 sion, obeyed. 
 
 "You are glad?" von Stromberg asked. 
 
 "Yes, Excellenz. I am glad. It is not the kind of 
 thing one wants to be worried about one's own flesh 
 and blood. But I knew there must have been a mis- 
 take." 
 
 General von Stromberg puffed his smoke toward 
 the ceiling and stretched his long legs upon the 
 floor. 
 
 "It is very curious. I am not sure that I under- 
 stand. Herr Rizzio is a careful man and he has much 
 at stake. Why should your cousin Hammersley have 
 refused to take cognizance of his credentials?" 
 
 "He had doubtless good reasons of his own. But 
 since he will soon be here he will answer your ques- 
 tions himself. The fact that he comes at all, Excellenz, 
 should be proof of his loyalty." 
 
 "Yes," said the General thoughtfully. "That 
 should be true. One doesn't thrust one's head into the 
 lion's mouth for the mere pleasure of examining his 
 teeth. Who sent this message?" 
 
 "General von Betzdorf." 
 
 "There were no other wireless communications?" 
 
 "None, Excellenz. But Stammer should reach Wil- 
 helmshaven tonight." 
 
 The General smoked silently for a moment, and 
 then: 
 
 "Herr Hammersley's mother was a Prussian?" 
 
 "Yes, Excellenz, a sister of my mother " 
 
 "Yes, I remember now. Von Eppingen " the 
 
 134
 
 VON STROMBERG 
 
 General muttered, his brows wrinkled. And then, 
 "You saw much of your cousin?" 
 
 "For a while he went with me to the gymnasium, 
 then to the University of Heidelberg. He has come 
 over each year and shot with me here at Windenberg." 
 
 "You are fond of him?" 
 
 Von Winden shrugged. 
 
 "He is my relative. We have always got along. I 
 should not have cared to find that he was a traitor." 
 
 The General smoked silently, his gaze on the fire. 
 
 "But his father was an Englishman, Graf von Win- 
 den. We can't forget that. Tell me. You have 
 known him always. What was his attitude at the Uni- 
 versity? Did he show a real affection for German life 
 and customs? In short was he ever able to forget that 
 half of him was English?" 
 
 Udo von Winden pulled at his small blond mustache 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "I can only say that he was quieter than most of 
 us. But he was popular. He was a member of the 
 Saxe-Borussia and represented the Corps on the Men- 
 surboden against Suevia and Guestphalia. A Prussian 
 for all that any of us knew Prussian of Prussians." 
 
 "His father died when he was quite young, I be- 
 lieve?" 
 
 "Yes, Excellenz. But his father, too, had lived 
 much in Germany. He was a diplomat and scholar 
 and enjoyed the friendship of the Iron Chancellor. 
 That was before the 'Hassgesang,' Excellenz." 
 
 "Or before the 'Tag,' " growled the General. "Your 
 loyalty to your cousin is natural, but loyalty to the 
 Vaterland " 
 
 Udo von Winden rose quickly. 
 
 "You would not suggest, Excellenz ?" 
 
 135
 
 "Quatch! Sit down, Captain. I suggest nothing. 
 There are merely some phases of the question which 
 puzzle me. Perhaps when he arrives he can explain 
 them." 
 
 "He will explain. I will stake my honor on it." 
 
 "I trust so. This is hardly a time when my depart- 
 ment can afford to make mistakes in the character of 
 those in its employ." 
 
 "But, Excellenz, you surely have no cause to doubt 
 the exactness of the information he has furnished 
 you!" 
 
 "It depends upon what you mean by exactness. Our 
 information, as you know, comes from a number of 
 sources. Some of it has proven valuable some use- 
 less. Herr Hammersley's has been neither the one nor 
 the other." 
 
 "But the British fleet at Cuxhaven " 
 
 "Yes, he gave us that, but they came two days ear- 
 lier than we expected. It cost us the Bliicher." 
 
 "But you knew that the orders were changed and 
 he sent a wireless " 
 
 "The morning the Bliiclier was sunk," said von 
 Stromberg dryly. 
 
 "But, Excellenz, he gave us a clear sea for the raid 
 on Falmouth!" 
 
 General von Stromberg rose and laid his hand on 
 von Winden's shoulder. 
 
 "You are younger than I, Graf von Winden. The 
 Secret Service makes a maxim to believe everyone 
 guilty until he proves his innocence." 
 
 "But Herr Hammersley?" 
 
 "We have reason to believe that the British Govern- 
 ment permitted the raid on Falmouth, as a means of 
 increasing the enlistments." He slowly paced the floor 
 
 136
 
 VON STROMBERG 
 
 and then said reassuringly, "Oh, I merely question 
 I merely question " 
 
 His words trailed off and Udo von Winden stood 
 silently until he spoke again. "Oh, very well. We 
 shall see we shall see." 
 
 A knock at the door and an orderly entered. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Dispatches, Excellenz." 
 
 Udo von Winden watched his superior officer as he 
 dismissed the man and broke the seal of a large enve- 
 lope and read, the lamplight playing on his long bony 
 features, giving his sharp nose a peculiarly vulture-like 
 avidity. The importance of the communication was 
 obvious, for the small eyes under the heavy thatch of 
 brows flamed in sudden interest. The General read the 
 paper through quickly and then slipped it between the 
 buttons of his coat. 
 
 "That will be all, Herr Hauptmann " he said, 
 
 with a return of his military abruptness. "You will 
 go at once to the hangar and await the arrival of Herr 
 Hammersley." And as the officer moved toward the 
 door: "Also, you will first tell Herr Hauptmann 
 Wentz that I wish to see him at once." 
 
 Von Winden clapped his heels together, saluted and 
 went out while the General paced the floor of the room 
 again tapping the back of his left hand with his right. 
 "It is curious," he muttered to himself. "A coinci- 
 dence perhaps, but strange. And yet possible." 
 
 While he was reading the document again Captain 
 Wentz entered. He was short, thickly set and dark 
 with a blue chin and heavy eyebrows, the type of a 
 man who rises in the service from sheer ability. He 
 waited at the door, immovable, in the presence of the 
 great man until ordered to approach. 
 10 137
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 "An important message has come from the Wil- 
 helmstrasse, which indicates a mission of peculiar im- 
 portance." The General paused a moment, his keen 
 eyes searching Captain Wentz with a terrible tensity, 
 but the face of the younger man remained expression- 
 less. He was merely a piece of machinery excellent 
 machinery. 
 
 "You may have thought it curious, Herr Haupt- 
 mann Wentz, that I should have come from the Wil- 
 helmstrasse to Blaufelden. Is it not so?" 
 
 "It is not my duty to think, Excellenz, unless or- 
 dered to do so," said the other briefly. 
 
 The General smiled. The answer pleased him. 
 
 "I wished to see Herr Hammersley, as you know. 
 That is important, and the Yellow Dove cannot go to 
 Berlin." He stopped and then went on quickly : "Herr 
 Hauptmann, you have been attached to the Secret Ser- 
 vice Department three years?" 
 
 "Yes, Excellenz." 
 
 "You have performed several important duties and 
 have won promotion. I am now about to commit to 
 your care, a " 
 
 At a gesture of von Stromberg's thumb the officer 
 went on tiptoe to the door and opened it quickly. 
 
 "No one, Excellenz." 
 
 "Good. Now sit. First, you speak French without 
 accent." 
 
 "That was a part of my qualification for this ser- 
 vice." 
 
 "Yes. It is in my mind to give you an important 
 mission one which will require great skill and forti- 
 tude." 
 
 Wentz listened attentively, but he made no com- 
 ment. 
 
 138
 
 VON STROMBERG 
 
 "It is unnecessary of course to warn you to hold 
 what I tell you in the strictest confidence." 
 
 "I do not talk, Excellenz." 
 
 "This is a matter of grave importance to the Em- 
 pire, a matter which concerns one of the enemies of 
 the Vaterland. The safe delivery of certain dispatches 
 which I am to receive may mean a readjustment of the 
 European situation perhaps the end of the war with 
 Germany victorious and England humiliated." 
 
 The eyes of Captain Wentz grew a little rounder 
 and sparkled ever so slightly, but he said noth- 
 ing. 
 
 "I am telling you this that you may know the im- 
 portance of the duty I am giving you. It is an honor 
 which I hope you will appreciate, an honor that may 
 lead to greater favors than you have hitherto re- 
 ceived." 
 
 "I hope I may deserve them, Excellenz." 
 
 General von Stromberg took the paper from his 
 breast and glanced over it again. 
 
 "You will remember," he continued, "the affair of 
 the Socialist, Gottschalk?" 
 
 "I knew nothing of the details, Excellenz. That 
 matter came in the duty of Oberlieutenant von Werin- 
 grade." 
 
 "This much then, only, I need tell you. Herr 
 Gottschalk, who lived at Schondorf near here, came 
 into the possession, in a manner which need not be de- 
 scribed, of certain important papers. He kept them 
 for some time, not aware of their importance, and then 
 realizing their value and being a good German, though 
 opposed to the war, two weeks ago communicated with 
 the Government. The result of this correspondence 
 was a summons from Berlin and the delivery of these 
 
 139
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 papers into the hands of the Emperor. Do you fol- 
 low me?" 
 
 "Yes, Excellenz." 
 
 "This letter which I have just received by special 
 messenger informs me that His Majesty has decided 
 to act at once, and gives me three days in which to 
 make arrangements to have these papers, which will be 
 forwarded tomorrow, delivered to General Balmier, 
 commanding at Verdun, to be handed before a certain 
 date, to the President of the French Republic. You 
 are to be the bearer of those letters. They must t 
 delivered personally. You will be provided with the 
 proper passes and facilities, including an armed escort 
 to the French lines. From there you must trust to 
 your own resources. The important matter is that 
 no one, not even Captain von Winden, sfyall suspect 
 your mission. Perhaps now you will realize the confi- 
 dence I am reposing." 
 
 "I am honored, Excellenz. These papers will ar- 
 rive tomorrow?" 
 
 "Tomorrow night by automobile at eleven, by tb 
 Schondorf road." 
 
 "And until then ?" 
 
 "You will have time to make your arrangements." 
 
 "I shall prepare, Excellenz." 
 
 Captain Wentz rose, but the General halted him. 
 
 "One thing more. Herr Hammersley is returning 
 tonight from England with dispatches. He is to be 
 carefully watched tonight and tomorrow, though I 
 shall let him believe that he moves in perfect freedom. 
 You will give the necessary orders. Also I would like 
 you to keep watch outside the door when he is brought 
 to this room, which may be at any moment." 
 
 "Zu befehl, Excellenz." 
 
 140
 
 "That is all. You may go." 
 
 Left alone, General von Stromberg took a chair 
 facing the fire, and lighted another cigar. For many 
 years he had been engaged in deciphering interesting 
 problems and in preparing problems for other persons 
 to decipher. Therefore it may be truly said that his 
 was the analytical mind, the mind of the chemist, of 
 the mathematician, and the philosopher, with so com- 
 plete a schooling in the trade of deception that all 
 things and all persons in the cosmic scheme except 
 himself were objects of suspicion. For him the obvious 
 was the negligible and by converse the negligible of 
 prime importance. As he had said to von Winden, 
 every man was guilty until he was proven innocent. 
 He had a rare nose for scenting unsuspected odors, 
 and a fine hand for finding the weak links in the armor 
 of those he used as well as of those who sought to use 
 him. He had a faculty for appearing at places where 
 he was least expected and a prescience almost miracu- 
 lous in forestalling the moves of his adversaries. He 
 ruled by fear and by admiration and there was not a 
 man in the Empire with a skeleton in his closet, no 
 matter how high his station, who did not live without 
 a terror of von Stromberg in his heart. 
 
 But the habit of mind of suspecting everybody, 
 while it had placed him upon the safe side of every 
 equation, had also resulted, through the elimination 
 of the sentimental, in eliminating the more direct con- 
 tacts with human nature. To judge a man by his 
 possibilities for venality is like judging a rose by the 
 sharpness of its thorn. Something of the weakness of 
 this cynicism had been apparent to the keen intellect 
 of von Stromberg and he had been finding of late a 
 rare pleasure in trifling with his convictions, admitting 
 
 141
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 into the stored cavern of his mind for experimental 
 purposes, an occasional ray of optimism. At the pres- 
 ent moment he was analyzing the result of his summons 
 to Herr Hammersley to come to Germany at once and 
 the communication from Herr Rizzio which impugned 
 Herr Hammersley's loyalty to Germany. Von Strom- 
 berg had known Herr Rizzio for years and had done 
 him more than one service in finding ways to cater to 
 his passion for collecting objects of art. It was Ger- 
 man social influence secretly exerted that had helped 
 to make easy Rizzio's rise in favor at the court of St. 
 James. There had been a possibility that some day 
 John Rizzio might be of service to von Stromberg and 
 to Germany. And von Stromberg had long been lay- 
 ing the plans which had made his system of espionage 
 the most perfect in Europe. Von Stromberg had 
 found Rizzio's weakness and had traded on it, saving 
 his most tempting bait for his greatest service, the 
 betrayal of the home of his adoption. He weighed 
 Rizzio contentedly sure of his own power over him and 
 despising him for having been so easily bought. Ru- 
 bens's "Descent from the Cross" ! There were fortu- 
 nately other Rubenses in conquered territory some 
 very good ones that John Rizzio might like. Von 
 Stromberg had made a list of them. He had learned 
 that it was as necessary to be provided with bribes 
 as with threats. Fortunately Rizzio himself had given 
 him material for the latter. Racially, the great Coun- 
 cilor did not like Latins, and he was quite sure he 
 cared less for Italians now than he did before the 
 proclamation of neutrality. They were not to be 
 trusted by good Germans. If Rizzio had played false 
 to the country of his adoption for the sake of a paltry 
 picture, it was within the bounds of possibility that 
 
 142
 
 he could be false to Germany if the necessity arose for 
 an even smaller consideration. Yesterday morning be- 
 fore leaving Berlin for Windenberg, von Stromberg 
 had received a dispatch from Rizzio which told of his 
 departure on his yacht from Scotland for Bremen. 
 This was curious also interesting. Rizzio was needed 
 in England and was useless in Germany. Why was 
 he coming? Had something been learned of him at 
 Scotland Yard? Or had his departure to do with the 
 case of Herr Hammersley? Whatever the visit meant, 
 it was necessary, very necessary, to have Rizzio and 
 Hammersley together at once, so he had deemed it wise 
 to send orders to Bremen to have Rizzio caught on 
 the wireless and when he reached port sent through 
 at once to Windenberg. 
 
 Von Stromberg smiled in self-gratulation. There 
 would be no loose ends about this affair. Merely as a 
 precaution in so important a matter he had set one 
 agent to watch another. Byfield had been watched by 
 Hammersley, who in turn had been watched by Rizzio, 
 who had been watched by Herr Maxwell, an agent 
 long in von Stromberg's service. Rizzio had been given 
 the power and credentials to use his discretion with 
 Hammersley. Why had not Hammersley relinquished 
 the cigarette papers to Rizzio? Hammersley should 
 have good reasons for his refusal. Was there reason 
 for Hammersley to suspect Rizzio? Herr Maxwell, 
 who had been set to watch Rizzio, was silent. This 
 was puzzling. What had happened to Herr Maxwell? 
 
 General von Stromberg threw his finished cigar into 
 the fire and got up, rubbing his hands together. Oh, 
 it was very interesting very. The situation was rap- 
 idly approaching culmination. In a short while all the 
 threads of this pretty tangle would be within reach of 
 
 143
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 his long fingers. And all that he, von Stromberg, had 
 to do was to catch them by the ends and hold. What 
 would Herr Hammersley bring? 
 
 General von Stromberg straightened, listening. 
 The sound of voices and men outside. So. He was 
 here already. There had been no sound from the ma- 
 chine. Of course, he had planed down. A knock on 
 the door and von Winden, Wentz and Hammersley 
 -entered.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 HAMMERSLEY EXPLAINS 
 
 AT the sight of the tall figure of von Stromberg, 
 Hammersley halted for the fraction of a sec- 
 ond and then came forward into the room. 
 He still wore his leather jacket and cap, but the wind 
 burn on his cheeks gave his eyes, which had been pro- 
 tected by goggles, a singular grayness. He had had 
 no sleep and his face was drawn in haggard lines, but 
 his greeting showed no signs of uneasiness. 
 
 "Had I known you were awaiting me, Excellenz, I 
 should perhaps have made quicker repairs." 
 
 "It does not matter that you are late," said von 
 Stromberg quickly. "The thing of main importance 
 is that you are here." The General turned and made a 
 motion to the door of the room. "I wish to be alone 
 with Herr Hammersley. Herr Hauptmann von Win- 
 den, you are relieved from duty for the night. Herr 
 Hauptmann Wentz, you will remain within call." 
 
 The two officers saluted and retired and the Gen- 
 eral motioned Hammersley to approach. 
 
 "You have it?" he asked briefly. 
 
 "Yes, Excellenz. Here." 
 
 He produced from an inner pocket a small package 
 wrapped in oiled paper and handed it to von Strom- 
 berg. 
 
 "Ah !" He went quickly over to the table and tear- 
 ing off the wrapper of the bundle opened the packet of 
 Riz-la-Croix and found the hidden message which he 
 
 145
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 scanned quickly, with muttered ejaculations of satis- 
 faction and surprise. Hammersley by the fireplace 
 was warming his hands. 
 
 "Ganz gut!" said the General, straightening and 
 turning. "You had difficulties?" 
 
 "More than usual, Excellenz. Captain Byfield is in 
 prison." 
 
 "Caught!" 
 
 Hammersley nodded. 
 
 "They found letters at his rooms." 
 
 "Schafskopf! Were there no fires?" 
 
 Hammersley shrugged. 
 
 "He is to be tried by court-martial. He will be 
 shot." 
 
 Von Stromberg deliberated a moment. 
 
 "And were you suspected?" 
 
 "Yes. They followed me to Scotland, but fortu- 
 nately the Yellow Dove is still a mystery at least it 
 was yesterday morning, and I got safely away." 
 
 Von Stromberg was scrutinizing him keenly. 
 
 "H m. What makes you think that you were fol- 
 lowed?" 
 
 "I left London by night train but got off at Edin- 
 burgh where my motor met me. But the wire was 
 faster, and they had sent word to stop me. They 
 stretched a rope across the road, but I saw it and 
 went around. They fired at me " 
 
 "When was this?" 
 
 "Three nights ago." 
 
 "They didn't hit you 
 
 "A mere scratch across the arm " 
 
 "Let me see it." 
 
 Hammersley looked into von Stromberg's face and 
 laughed. 
 
 146
 
 UAMMERSLEY EXPLAINS 
 
 "Really?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Rather stiffly Hammersley took off his leather jacket 
 and sweater and rolled up the sleeve of his flannel shirt. 
 Von Stromberg examined the wound with interest. 
 
 "So " he said. "Put on your coat. And after 
 
 that?" 
 
 "I kept away from Ben-a-Chielt and put up for the 
 night at my cousin's." 
 
 "Who is that?" 
 
 "Lady Heathcote " 
 
 "Oh, "yes. It was at her house in London that the 
 message passed to you." 
 
 "Yes, Excellenz." 
 
 Von Stromberg paused a moment and then spoke 
 abruptly. 
 
 "Why did you not give the papers to Rizzio?" 
 
 Hammersley's gaze met the General's squarely. 
 
 "They were too important. I could not take the 
 risk." 
 
 "But his orders superseded yours." 
 
 "I saw but I could not take the risk." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because I had reason to believe that Rizzio was 
 acting for the English Government." 
 
 Von Stromberg's burning gaze flickered and went 
 out. He took a few paces across the room, his right 
 hand tapping the back of his left. At last he came 
 and stood before Hammersley, his hands behind his 
 back. 
 
 "What were your reasons for believing that?" 
 
 "Maxwell learned it from Byfield." 
 
 "Maxwell! You saw Maxwell when?" 
 
 "The night I left London." 
 147
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 "Has anything happened to him?" quickly. 
 
 "I do not know." 
 
 The General frowned into the fire. 
 
 "It is strange," he muttered. "Very strange. You 
 did not realize then that I suspected you?" 
 
 Hammersley laughed. 
 
 "Not at once. I did later. That is your privilege, 
 Excellenz. But I refused to be caught under the cir- 
 cumstances. I preferred to take the risk of failure. 
 After all, you see, I succeeded." 
 
 General von Stromberg was not immune from the 
 frankness of Hammersley's smile. He turned toward 
 the table and scrutinized the papers with great care. 
 
 "These are the very papers you got from Herr Cap- 
 tain Byfield?" 
 
 Hammersley's reply was startling. 
 
 "Unfortunately, no. The original papers were 
 burned " 
 
 "Burned !" cried the General, turning in his chair. 
 
 "But not before I had made this copy, which I put 
 in a safe place." 
 
 "Explain." 
 
 "I was followed, leaving Lady Heathcote's dinner 
 party in an automobile, by agents of Scotland Yard. 
 I had the slower machine and they caught me. But 
 not before I had passed the original papers to my 
 companion " 
 
 "Your companion a woman?" 
 
 "Yes, Excellenz, there was nothing else to do. She 
 escaped while they were searching me and kept the 
 papers " 
 
 "Who was this woman?" 
 
 "My fiancee." 
 
 "Her name?" 
 
 148
 
 HAMMEESLEY EXPLAINS 
 
 "Doris Mather." 
 
 "English?" 
 
 "No, American." 
 
 "And what happened then?" 
 
 "Excellenz, she read them. She is devoted to the 
 English cause. I could Jo nothing. She learned that 
 I was acting for Germany and, rather than let them 
 fall into my hands, she burned them. It makes no 
 difference to you or to the Vaterland, since I have 
 brought the message here, except that my own utility 
 in England is gone." 
 
 "I should be sorry to be obliged to believe you." 
 
 "I am afraid, Excellenz, that there is nothing left 
 for you to do." 
 
 General von Stromberg was again busy examining 
 the cigarette papers. Suddenly he raised his head,, 
 his gaze boring into Hammersley's face. 
 
 "You say this is a copy of the original message?" 
 
 "Yes, Excellenz." 
 
 "And where did you make it?" 
 
 "In the library upstairs at Lady Heathcote's in 
 Park Lane." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "After my interview with Herr Rizzio. It is written 
 hurriedly, as you will observe." 
 
 "It is written with a pen finer than those usually 
 employed by ladies." 
 
 "I took what offered, Excellenz," said Hammersley. 
 
 "What was your thought when you made the copy ?" 
 
 "That Rizzio or his agents would attempt to get i 
 away from me. It seems that I was right." 
 
 "Are you sure that he was acting for England and 
 not for me?" asked von Stromberg quickly. 
 
 "For you, Excellenz?" 
 
 149
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 "Did it not occur to you that your failure to accede 
 to his request might have given Herr Rizzio the idea 
 that you were saving this document from him in order 
 that you might deliver it to the War Office?" 
 
 "How could such an idea occur to me when I already 
 knew what his object was?" 
 
 "Oh ! You are convinced that he is for the English 
 cause?" 
 
 "Naturally. I can conceive of no reason why Rizzio 
 should be for Germany." 
 
 Von Stromberg smiled. If this were skill in parry, 
 he rej oiced in having met his match. If it were merely 
 ingenuousness, he was equally at a loss. He had often 
 admitted to himself that there were but two kinds of 
 people in the world that he could not cope with those 
 who never lost their tempers and those who told the 
 truth. He had taken advantage of Hammersley's 
 physical condition to provoke him into irritation, but 
 the man was quite unruffled. The piercing eye, the 
 threatening tone and the dominant air of authority 
 which von Stromberg had so frequently found effective 
 with others had been of no avail here. Herr Hammers- 
 ley stood by the fire, erect and unperturbed, calmly 
 awaiting his dismissal. If he had told the truth, then 
 Rizzio 
 
 "Herr Rizzio has advised rne that you are disloyal 
 to Germany," said the General at last. "You inform 
 me that he is loyal to England." 
 
 Hammersley shrugged and laughed. 
 
 "If I were disloyal to Germany, surely I had proof 
 enough of your suspicions in your secret summons, to 
 remain at Bcn-a-Chielt. It is unnecessary for me to 
 say that I should have come without that summons, 
 because it was dangerous for me to stay." 
 
 150
 
 HAMMERSLEY EXPLAINS 
 
 "You would, then, have me disregard the message 
 from Herr Rizzio?" 
 
 "No. I merely ask that you wait until you hear 
 from Herr Maxwell." 
 
 "And if Herr Maxwell be dead?" asked von Strom- 
 berg quietly. 
 
 Hammersley's face became grave. 
 
 "In that case, Excellenz, I must rely on your keen- 
 ness to decide the issue between us." 
 
 Von Stromberg slipped the packet of papers into 
 an inner pocket and rose with a laugh. He covered 
 the distance between himself and Hammersley in three 
 paces with extended hands. 
 
 "I was only trying you, Herr Hammersley. It is a 
 habit of mine. It amuses me. You will forgive me, 
 nicht wahr?" 
 
 "Willingly, Excellenz, if you will provide me witH 
 food and a bed. Failing those, you may have me shot 
 at once." 
 
 "Food you shall have, and a bed is prepared in your 
 room upstairs. As for the shooting, perhaps we may 
 as well postpone that until morning." 
 
 He laughed jovially, showing a very fine set of 
 teeth, and, touching a bell which was answered by Cap- 
 tain Wentz, directed that food and coffee be prepared 
 at once. 
 
 "One word more," he went on, when Wentz went out, 
 "where did you put this copy after leaving Lady 
 Heathcote's in London?" 
 
 "I slipped it down the window sash in my automo- 
 bile. They did not even search for it. I got away 
 by a ruse." 
 
 "No one saw it?" 
 
 *'No one. The message is the same." 
 151
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "H m! You have a good memory?" 
 
 "Excellent." 
 
 "Are you sure that the War Office knew of your 
 movements ?" 
 
 "Positive. I know of no one who would try to 
 kill me " 
 
 "Rizzio?" 
 
 "Acting for England, yes." 
 
 "And if he were acting for Germany?" 
 
 "Then he is a fool." 
 
 Von Stromberg folded his long arms and gazed at 
 the lamp. 
 
 "You do not feel that it would be possible to return 
 at once?" 
 
 "Not unless I wished to be shot as a spy." 
 
 "What will you do?" 
 
 "Take whatever service you will give me. Failing 
 that I will volunteer for aviation." 
 
 The General, without pursuing the subject further, 
 motioned Hammersley to the door. 
 
 "You will find food ready. After eating you had 
 better get to bed. I will talk with you further in the 
 morning." 
 
 As the door closed behind his visitor von Strom- 
 berg sank into the chair by the fire and lighted a third 
 cigar, upon which he pulled steadily for some moments, 
 rehearsing by question and reply almost every word of 
 Hammersley's story. By every rule of the game as 
 he knew it Herr Hammersley should be a liar. And 
 yet his story from first to last held water. There was 
 not a flaw in its texture from beginning to end. If 
 Hammersley had not told the truth he was the most 
 skillful liar in Europe, a man who gave the appearance 
 of truthfulness to the last hair of his head. And yet 
 
 152
 
 it was much more easy to lie if one knew that there 
 was no man to oppose him. Hammersley did not know 
 that Rizzio was on the way. Tomorrow they would 
 meet. It would be interesting to watch that meeting. 
 For, as to this thing, the mind of the General was 
 clear. One of these men was false to Germany, the 
 other true, but which? Both had come willingly, or 
 was it by necessity? And Herr Maxwell! It was 
 strange that Maxwell should have failed in his report 
 at this crucial moment. And if Maxwell were dead 
 who had betrayed him? General von Stromberg's 
 thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door and 
 the entrance of the orderly. 
 
 "A telegram, Excellenz, by motorcycle from Win- 
 denberg." 
 
 The General opened the paper. It was in code and 
 he translated it rapidly. 
 
 VON STROMBERG: 
 
 Withhold judgment until my arrival. Will be 
 at Bremen tomorrow early with Miss Mather, who 
 possesses valuable information. 
 
 RIZZIO. 
 
 General von Stromberg sank deeper into his chair, 
 the paper in his fingers, a smile broadening upon his 
 features. The woman ! It was almost too good to be 
 true. Miss Doris Mather, the American girl, Ham- 
 mersley's fiancee, coming to Germany with Rizzio. 
 And Hammersley obviously did not know it. Intrigue, 
 mystery and now romance. Tomorrow 
 
 The man still stood awaiting orders. Von Strom- 
 berg rose with a yawn. 
 
 "Is my room prepared?" 
 
 "Yes, Excellenz." 
 
 11 153
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "Which one?" 
 
 "The same as before next to that of Herr Ham- 
 mersley." 
 
 "Well, move it into the wing. And when I go up 
 you will set a watch upon my door also one outside 
 my windows." 
 
 "Zu befehl, ExceUenz" 
 
 "In the meanwhile send Herr Hauptmann Wentz 
 to me here." 
 
 The man went out and Captain Wentz entered im- 
 mediately closing the door behind him. 
 
 "What time does the northern express leare Bre- 
 men in the morning?" 
 
 "At seven." 
 
 General von Stromberg sat and wrote ou* a mes- 
 sage. 
 
 "Have this message sent at once." And then, "That 
 train reaches Windenberg at what hour?" 
 
 "Twelve." 
 
 "Good. This mountain air is excellent for the 
 nerves. I shall sleep late tomorrow and do not wish to 
 be called. You will go personally to Windenberg at 
 eleven o'clock with a closed carriage. You will meet 
 Herr Rizzio, whom you will recognize by his tall, dis- 
 tinguished appearance and excellent clothing. He will 
 be accompanied by a young lady. It is my wish that 
 they be brought to this house and given separate rooms 
 on the upper story and placed under guard until I 
 summon them. No one must see them enter this house. 
 To accomplish this purpose, Herr Hammersley must 
 go to the hangar. The means I leave to you. Cap- 
 tain von Winden will be of service. Do you under- 
 stand?" 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 154
 
 HAMMERSLEY EXPLAINS 
 
 "For the present that is all. I shall go to my room. 
 Good night.'* 
 
 "Good night, Excellenz." 
 
 
 
 Meanwhile, upstairs in his room, Hammersley, after 
 having eaten, was preparing for bed. For a tired 
 man he went about it in a very leisurely way, smoking 
 a cigarette, and wandering about the room stretching 
 his long limbs and yawning between whiles. Then, 
 after a time, he took off his clothes and bathed. It 
 was perhaps an hour before he blew out his candle, 
 and even then he did not get immediately into bed. 
 He sat on the edge of the couch for a while, listening 
 and watching the cold moonlight outside his dormer 
 window, or the dim line of light that came from be- 
 neath the door into the hall. Then, apparently satis- 
 fied that he was to be quite free from interruption, he 
 straightened and stood up, waiting again. Still no 
 sound. He reached for the table, where he had put 
 his watch and the things from his pockets, and picked 
 up a large pocket-knife, carefully opening the large 
 blade. Then, with quick, noiseless footsteps, he 
 crossed the room to the fireplace and felt with the fin- 
 gers of one hand carefully along the edge of the chim- 
 ney breast. His fingers reached a spot where there 
 was an unevenness, and feeling carefully, thrust the 
 knife-blade its full length beneath the paper, slowly 
 withdrawing it. Something protruded which was 
 quickly taken into the palm of his left hand. With 
 great care he smoothed the broken wallpaper back into 
 its place and noiselessly closing the knife got softly 
 into bed. 
 
 He lay on his back for a while, his eyes wide open, 
 watching the window and the door and then, pulling 
 
 155
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 the heavy blankets up, slipped lower and lower under 
 the covers until he disappeared from view. In the 
 room all was dark, but under the blankets he read by 
 the light of an electric pocket torch some writing in 
 German upon a thin slip of paper. 
 
 Papers arrive tomorrow night, eleven from 
 Berlin automobile by Schondorf road.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 THE UNWILLING GUEST 
 
 AFTER the light of dawn went out upon the 
 cliffs of Rhuda Mor, Doris Mather hung for 
 a long while upon the brink of an abyss, be- 
 low her darkness, above her light. She strove up- 
 ward, but in the dim moments of half-consciousness 
 was aware of a force restraining her and a recurrence 
 of the odor in which the darkness had first come. She 
 had a sense of motion and of jolting, the feeling of 
 arms about her, a descent, the sound of water and the 
 rocking of a boat. Brief glimpses she had of sun- 
 light, which revealed outlines dimly, like the glow of 
 summer lightning upon familiar objects, making them 
 curiously unfamiliar. John Rizzio's face persisted in 
 these visions, a fantastic Rizzio, much larger than the 
 man she knew, deferential and punctilious as ever, and 
 strangely grave. A stout man with a swarthy face 
 in a cap and brass buttons, just above her, darkly 
 outlined against white clouds which seemed to be whirl- 
 ing rapidly past him. Dully she found herself won- 
 dering where the clouds were going so rapidly and 
 why they didn't come back. . . . Later, darkness and 
 peace, where there were no visions and the sky no 
 longer whirled ... a steady vibration which soothed 
 her, and she blissfully slept. 
 
 When she awoke the visions were gone, and as her 
 senses returned she started up, but her head swam 
 and she sank back again. As she had risen a woman 
 
 157
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 emerged from the shadows of the room and came for- 
 ward. And then slowly, as full consciousness returned, 
 the girl realized that she was on an ocean-going vessel 
 in a cabin or stateroom very beautifully appointed. 
 She started up in her bed and looked out of the port- 
 hole to see the amber crests of waves leaping rapidly 
 past. Then she heard the woman's voice speaking. 
 
 "You are feeling better?" 
 
 Doris turned and looked at her, a woman of middle 
 age, with a kindly face, dressed in white linen. 
 
 "What yacht is this?" she asked. 
 
 "The Sylph, miss Mr. Rizzio's," she replied. 
 
 Doris thought for a moment. The last thing her 
 waking consciousness remembered were the cliffs of 
 Rhuda Mor. 
 
 "How did I come here?" she asked again. 
 
 The woman shook her head. "I don't know, miss." 
 
 Her manner was kind and most respectful but her 
 tone was decisive. She was obeying instructions. 
 
 "Is Mr. Rizzio aboard?" Doris asked again. 
 
 "Yes, miss. And he asked me to tell you that when 
 you felt sufficiently recovered he would be glad to 
 wait upon you in the saloon." 
 
 "Oh, I understand." 
 
 When Doris rose and put her feet to the swaying 
 deck, nausea overcame her. But the woman, who was 
 prepared for this emergency, offered a glass filled with 
 cloudy liquid. 
 
 "Brink this," she said. "It will make you feel bet- 
 ter." 
 
 Doris looked into the woman's face, and recognizing 
 the aromatic odor, took the draught. 
 
 The nausea passed after a moment and she managed 
 to get up and make her way to the bathroom. As 
 
 158
 
 THE UNWILLING 'GUEST 
 
 she bathed her face, memory returned, full memory 
 of the events of the previous night, the scene upon the 
 cliffs, with Cyril, the destroyer, Rizzio, Stryker, 
 Rudha Mor, the Yellow Dove and then unconsciousness. 
 Chloroform ! There wera vestiges of it upon her cloth- 
 ing still. They had drugged her. When she took off 
 her shirtwaist something fell to the floor. A paper. 
 She picked it up and looked at it. It was Rizzio's 
 note to her at Kilmorack House asking her to come to 
 !Ben-a-Chielt so that he might make her prisoner! 
 She remembered now that she had thrust it into her 
 waist when she went out. She folded the letter care- 
 fully and put it in her stays. After the other in- 
 dignity she had suffered, it seemed strange that they 
 had not searched her, too. She would keep the letter. 
 Perhaps later she would find use for it. 
 
 John Rizzio! It was difficult for her mind to asso- 
 ciate him with the villainy of abduction. And yet, 
 as her brain grew clearer, she became quite sure that 
 there was no other answer to the problem. Indeed, 
 from the replies of the stewardess she knew that John 
 Rizzio had chosen that she should know it was to be a 
 problem no longer. The Sylph, that was his" yacht. 
 She had been on the boat before, two years ago, dur- 
 ing the races in the Solent. Abduction! He had 
 dared! She was not frightened yet. Fury at his 
 temerity blinded her to all sense of danger. A phrase 
 of Cyril's came back to her, illuminating the chaos 
 of her thoughts. "You know too much too much 
 for your own good or mine." Cyril's cigarette pa- 
 pers ! She was the only one beside Cyril who had read 
 their contents ! Rizzio had carried her off, had brought 
 her to the Sylph, which was out of sight of land, speed- 
 ing for Germany ! What was he going to do with her? 
 
 159
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 Fury passed and weakness followed. She did not 
 know what time of day it was, but she was aware 
 that it had been long since she had eaten. In the 
 cabin she found a tray set with food and coffee which 
 the stewardess insisted upon serving her. She sank 
 into an armchair, refusing to eat, but the woman per- 
 1 sisted and the odor of the coffee was tempting. It 
 was luncheon, she found, and remembered that she had 
 had no appetite for dinner at Lady Heathcote's and 
 that it must be quite twenty-four hours since she had 
 broken bread. The coffee gave her courage, and in 
 spite of herself she found that she was eating heartily 
 with a genuine relish. She was a good sailor and the 
 nausea, which she now knew was the effect of the drug, 
 had passed. The stewardess stood beside her and to 
 the other questions Doris put to her answered politely, 
 but volunteered nothing further than she had already 
 told. In spite of the woman's care and attention the 
 girl could not get rid of the idea that the stewardess 
 had been sent as a guardian as well as a maid. She 
 was a prisoner of John Rizzio, of Germany, whither 
 he was bringing her as fast as the yacht could take 
 them. 
 
 Finding at last that her attempts to extract infor- 
 mation from her stolid servitress were fruitless, and 
 feeling strengthened by the food she had taken, she 
 got up and told the woman that she was going on deck, 
 asking that Mr. Rizzio be informed that she would 
 see him. As she emerged upon deck the crisp wintry 
 air sent the color slowly into her pallid cheeks. The 
 yacht was bowling along with the wind and sea quar- 
 tering and the foam-crests leaped alongside, sending 
 an occasional spurt of spray into the air, where the 
 wind caught it and blew it across the decks in a 
 
 160
 
 feathery mist of rainbows. The sunlight glinted on 
 polished wood and brasswork and at the stern 
 caught in the cross of St. George where the flag 
 of England flapped in the breeze. The flag of Eng- 
 land sheltering John Rizzio! She scanned the horizon 
 anxiously. Perhaps an English cruiser or destroyer 
 might come to whom she might be able to tell the real 
 character of the owner of the vessel. But there was 
 no vessel in sight. A sailor passed her and touched 
 his cap. The deference encouraged her. It reminded 
 her that this was the same deck upon which she had 
 stood when John Rizzio was suing for her hand, an 
 honorable host when she had been an honored guest. 
 A loud crackling came to her ears from the wireless 
 room. He was there, already in communication with 
 his employers in Germany. Even now, with Cyril's 
 words still ringing in her ears, she found it difficult to 
 believe that John Rizzio was England's enemy ; and the 
 price of his treachery a picture, "The Descent from 
 the Cross"! What a mockery that a man who would 
 stoop to such dishonor could make its price a picture 
 which typified the conquest of sublime virtue even 
 over death! 
 
 The wind was searching and the maid brought a 
 heavy coat with brass buttons from below and put it 
 on her with the word that Mr. Rizzio had sent it and 
 would come to her in a few moments. She sat in a 
 deckchair in the lee of the deckhouse, her lips firmly 
 compressed, trying to think what his ulterior purpose 
 might be, planning a defense which might make her in- 
 vulnerable, an attack which might search his intentions 
 and discover the true relation that was to exist be- 
 tween them. 
 
 He came toward her from forward, muffled in a 
 161
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 greatcoat, and carrying a rug. He took off his cap 
 with an air of deference, which answered at once some 
 of her questions. She rose and faced him, her color 
 high. 
 
 "What are you going to do with me?" she asked, 
 trying to keep her lips from trembling. 
 
 He smiled c nd pulled at his mustache. 
 
 "First, I hope you'll give me a chance to explain." 
 
 "What?" she cried hotly. "What can you explain? 
 Don't you suppose I know what you are? A German 
 spy, a traitor to England, and worse than that a 
 woman-baiter and a coward, Mr. Rizzio." 
 
 He bent his head. 
 
 "I make no defense," he said, "except necessity." 
 And then gravely indicating the chair from which she 
 had risen. "Won't you sit down? The voyage may 
 be long." 
 
 But she still stood. 
 
 "I am a prisoner, not a guest." 
 
 "Then I command you to sit," he said with a laugh. 
 "Won't you?" 
 
 A sound of exasperation came from her throat and 
 she obeyed him, her gaze on the sea, while with some 
 ostentation he covered her with a rug. 
 
 "What are you going to do with me in Germany?" 
 she repeated dully. 
 
 He sank into the chair beside her. "As I have often 
 told you, you are a woman of rare intelligence. In 
 reply I can only say that, unfortunately, I do not 
 know." 
 
 "A coward who is also a a liar," she said bitterly. 
 
 "A coward is usually a liar, but a liar isn't always a 
 coward. I am a liar, Doris, if you will, but a cour- 
 
 ageous one." 
 
 162
 
 THE UNWILLING GUEST 
 
 "My name is Mather," she said distinctly. 
 
 He shrugged and turned his gaze on the sea. 
 
 "You hate me, of course. We are enemies. I am 
 sorry. I warned you that you were entangled in an 
 affair that was leading you into dangerous paths. I 
 would have saved you, if I could, but you had learned 
 too much." 
 
 "And so you had me chloroformed. It was a pity 
 that you didn't complete your work." 
 
 "I merely did what was required of me. Through 
 a most unfortunate combination of circumstances you 
 came into possession of a secret known to but one 
 person in England; and you are the only person with 
 English sympathies who knows my exact political 
 status " 
 
 "A spy!" contemptuously. 
 
 "What you will a spy if you like but a strong 
 friend of Germany who resents an attempt by a nation 
 jealous of her growing commercial supremacy to wipe 
 her out of existence. I have lived in England long, 
 and I have known many of the men who have made 
 her what she is, but never in all those years has Eng- 
 land ever given me one token of the high nobility she 
 preaches. I have passed for many years as an Eng- 
 lishman. I am not English. I am cosmopolitan and 
 to a cosmopolitan, residence is but an accident." 
 
 "Pray spare me the details of your treachery." 
 
 He laughed easily. 
 
 "I'm afraid you're at my mercy. I shall try to be 
 lenient. You are an American, I am an Italian. To 
 call me a traitor to England because I happen to have 
 a liking for Germany would be much like my calling 
 you a traitor to Germany because you happen to have 
 a liking for England." 
 
 163
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "I have never eaten the bread and salt of Germany, 
 or wormed my way into the hearts of its people." 
 
 "I'm sure you flatter me. The people of my set in 
 London are agreeable, but : 
 
 Doris had straightened in the act of rising. 
 
 "I did not come on deck to discuss your ideals or 
 Germany's. I hope that you will excuse 
 
 "You will not listen?" 
 
 "No. I care nothing for your political views. I 
 am your prisoner. I want to know without further 
 words the worst that I am to expect from you." 
 
 "You have been upon the Sylph before. What was 
 proper for you then is proper for you now. You are 
 quite safe in my hands. I shall try to make you com- 
 fortable. Does that answer your question?" 
 
 "And after " 
 
 "You are to be delivered to the head of the Secret 
 Service Department of the German Empire." 
 
 The girl paled and sank back into her chair. 
 
 "Why?" she asked. 
 
 "Because you are in possession of information that 
 he wants." 
 
 "What information? It isn't true. I know noth- 
 ing." 
 
 "I am sorry," he apologized again. "The cigarette 
 papers. You read them." 
 
 "No no." 
 
 "You forget that you have already admitted that. 
 You have also read the second message which was to 
 take the place of the first." 
 
 "You are dreaming. A second message? I know 
 nothing of a second message." 
 
 "Pardon me, if I remind you of it. You would 
 hare burned it in the drawing-room at Kilmorack 
 
 164
 
 THE UNWILLING GUEST 
 
 House if Mr. Hammersley hadn't taken it from your 
 hand." 
 
 She stared at him bewildered at his astounding om- 
 niscience, his devilish ingenuity. It frightened her, his 
 cleverness and his pursuit of her. It seemed that she 
 had never had a chance to get away from him. And 
 yet his manner was so carefully studied, his attitude 
 toward her so coldly impersonal that as a man once 
 a lover she no longer feared him. If love of her had 
 ever been in his heart, a greater passion had burned 
 it out. She was grateful for this and prepared to 
 measure her woman's wit to his, thinking of Cyril. 
 What would Cyril have her do? 
 
 "You mean that you will let them the German* 
 question me?" 
 
 "If they wish to do so." 
 
 "But how will it benefit them, if the paperi are 
 already in their possession?" 
 
 "You will forgive me if I find it possible to doubt." 
 
 She turned away from him and studied the lines of 
 foam that streamed across the green troughs of the 
 sea. 
 
 "I suppose that conversation between us two is su- 
 perfluous. You distrust me and I " 
 
 "I think perhaps," he said gravely, "that it would 
 be pleasanter for both of us not to hear your senti- 
 ments toward me. Since the night of Lady Heath- 
 cote's dinner in London you ceased to be Miss Doris 
 Mather and became merely an official document. It is 
 my duty to preserve it and deliver it safely." 
 
 "I hope you may succeed. Otherwise the American 
 Ambassador in Berlin may " 
 
 "Unfortunately," he went on quietly, "the American 
 Ambassador cannot be informed." 
 
 165
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 She laughed with a greater confidence than she felt. 
 
 "You surely can't believe that my absence from 
 England will pass unnoticed. Do you think that my 
 father that Lady Heathcote 
 
 She paused bewildered. 
 
 "They will merely know that you rode late at night 
 to Ben-a-Chielt and that your horse was found rider- 
 less on the moor." 
 
 She buried her face in her hands and a sob broke 
 from her throat. It was true. They would think her 
 dead. For the first time she really was able to think 
 of things in their true aspect. 
 
 "It's cruel," she gasped. "How could you!" 
 
 He was too wise to touch her or even by his manner 
 to show too deep a sympathy. 
 
 "I am sorry," he said coolly, "awfully sorry. As 
 you know, I would have had things different. You 
 may still doubt me when I say that what I have done 
 is the hardest task that I ever undertook in my life. 
 But that is true. You were the only person in Eng- 
 land who jeopardized my existence there. I had to 
 take you away. I regret the necessity of having to use 
 force. I shall do what I can here upon the Sylpli to 
 counteract the unpleasant impression of my brutality. 
 I am not a bully and a woman-baiter. I am a spoke in 
 the wheel of destiny which you had clogged. By all ' 
 the rules of the game you should have died. Reasons 
 which I need not mention made your death at my hands 
 an impossibility. So I merely removed you to a place 
 of safety. No harm shall come to you, I pledge my 
 honor." 
 
 "Thanks," she said dully, struggling up, her face 
 away from him. And then dauntlessly, "Small a thing 
 as it is, I must be content with that." She had risen 
 
 166
 
 THE UNWILLING GUEST 
 
 and turned, "And now, if you don't mind, I will go 
 below. I would prefer to be alone. If, as you protest, 
 you would do me kindness, you will not ask to see me." 
 
 He bowed. 
 
 "I have given instructions that you shall be allowed 
 to do as you please. Mrs. Madden will furnish you 
 with all that you require both I think of linen and 
 toilet articles. I shall not try to see you again until 
 we land." 
 
 She bowed her head and went down. Rizzio watched 
 her until she disappeared and then walked over to the 
 rail and peered out over the sea. It had taken some 
 self-command to go through this interview as he had 
 planned it, and in conquering himself he had succeeded 
 in establishing a relation between them which made his 
 presence at least bearable to her. The impersonal tone 
 which he had used through the interview was the one 
 most calculated to put her at her ease with him and 
 the perfect frankness of his confession had made her 
 understand at once that sentimentally at least she had 
 nothing to fear from him. John Rizzio was wise in 
 the ways of women and the particular woman now 
 thrown upon his mercy, even though she was the one 
 woman in the world he had thought the most desirable, 
 was to be treated with the delicate consideration due 
 to her unfortunate dependence upon him. A flash of 
 sentiment, a breath of revelation of his ultimate pur- 
 poses toward her, and the woman would be lost to 
 him. Her misfortunes if anything had made her more 
 desirable than ever, especially since he had been the 
 cause of them. For one mad moment, he had thought 
 this morning of turning the Sylph toward the waters 
 of the South Atlantic, forgetting the quarrels of the 
 nations in which he had become involved, and of seek- 
 
 167
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 ing a new world where he could begin again, trusting 
 to time and opportunity and his own patience and tact 
 to bring a sentimental victory out of what had already 
 been defeat. A mad moment but a tempting one. But 
 the time was not yet. He must be patient. With 
 Hammersley gone 
 
 He straightened and slowly strolled forward to the 
 wireless room. Toward evening he was given con- 
 firmation of the wisdom of his course, for as he was 
 pacing the deck aft she came up from below and joined 
 him. She was looking rather white, but she smiled at 
 him brightly and matched her steps to his. 
 
 "I was lonely below," she said. "You don't mind?" 
 
 He had never thought her lovelier. Her face, if 
 anything, had always needed just those shadows of 
 pain to make it perfect. 
 
 "I hadn't hoped for such a kindness. You are feel- 
 ing better?" 
 
 "Yes, thanks. And since we must meet I am willing 
 to try to be friendly." 
 
 "I'm sure you'll find that I'll meet you more than 
 halfway," he said politely. 
 
 They talked far into the evening and at her request 
 they dined together in the saloon. He was reserved 
 but not cautious, and when the evening was over re- 
 membered hazily that she had succeeded in learning 
 something from him of General von Stromberg, the 
 head of the German Secret Service Department, of the 
 aviation field at Windenberg and of the frequent flights 
 of the Yellow Dove since the beginning of the winter. 
 
 The next morning passed quietly. Doris did not 
 appear until noon. But just before luncheon a smudge 
 of smoke appeared upon the horizon, which rapidly 
 grew larger, and in a little while she made out the lines 
 
 168
 
 THE UNWILLING GUEST 
 
 of a war vessel steaming in a direction which would 
 intercept the yacht. The Sylph did not slow down un- 
 til a solid shot from a gun in the forecastle of the de- 
 stroyer went ricochetting across her bows, when the 
 engine was stopped and John Rizzio made slowly aft to 
 where she stood. 
 
 "Miss Mather," he said briefly, "I must ask you to 
 go below to your cabin at once." 
 
 A glance at his face showed that her protests would 
 have been useless and she went below to her own state- 
 room, the door of which was locked upon her. Through 
 the heavy glass of her port-hole she saw the vessel ap- 
 proach until within hailing distance when a boat 
 dropped from her side into which a boat's crew and an. 
 officer clambered and rowed alongside. The vessel bore 
 no flag, but the girl clearly heard the hail of the 
 boarding officer and realized that the destroyer was 
 an English vessel. Her hopes rose. Perhaps even now 
 the Englishman would find something irregular in the 
 yacht's papers and would take charge, conveying her 
 back to England. She waited for a long time and 
 then heard the clatter of oars and saw the boat push 
 off from the side of the yacht, while the officer, young, 
 slender and windburned, stood up in the stern sheets 
 of his boat. 
 
 "All right," she heard him say, "sorry to have trou- 
 bled you. Pleasant voyage. Good-by." 
 
 Never had English sounded so good to her. But 
 it was with a sigh of despair that she saw the boat 
 reach the side of the war vessel and felt the steadily 
 increasing rhythm of the engines of the yacht as she 
 drove once more upon her way. 
 
 When the two vessels were at a distance from each 
 other the key turned in the lock of the door and in 
 12 169
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 reply to a knock, she found John Rizzio himself, stand- 
 ing hat in hand in the gangway. 
 
 "I seem to be in a continual state of apology. But 
 of course you realize the necessity for my action." 
 
 "I am in your power," she said helplessly. 
 
 "I hope you will believe that I shall not abuse it." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders and followed' him to 
 luncheon, managing to preserve at table a cheerfulness 
 which she was far from feeling. Throughout the 
 morning she had been thinking hard. And the only 
 course that was open to her if her courage did not 
 fail was the one that she was following. If she was 
 to be able in any way to help Cyril, she must try to 
 learn what she could, accept the situation with good 
 grace and perhaps by some turn of good fortune find 
 a way to disarm John Rizzio and profit by an inadver- 
 tence or mistake. But as the second day wore on she 
 found her task increasingly difficult. At luncheon Mr. 
 Rizzio was more reserved and during the afternoon 
 as they approached waters in which German warships 
 were more likely to be found he spent much time in the 
 wireless room, where a repetition of the crackling 
 noises advised her that he was again in communication 
 with the land of her enemies. 
 
 After dinner, at which Rizzio had been very quiet, 
 he requested politely that she go at once to her cabin, 
 which she did to hear the sound of the key again 
 turned in the lock of her door. Despair came over her 
 and at last she cried herself to sleep, awakening during 
 the night at the glare of a searchlight which pierced 
 her window port. She got up and looked out to see 
 a. dark bulk looming alongside, the flashing of lan- 
 terns, and heard the sound of voices speaking Ger- 
 man. At last all was quiet again, and the steady 
 
 170
 
 THE UNWILLING GUEST 
 
 hammer of the vessel's propeller told her that the 
 Sylph was again on her way. 
 
 She must have slept again, for the silver of dawn 
 was already modifying the gloom of her cabin when 
 there was a knock upon her door and she rose. The 
 stewardess fully dressed was outside. 
 
 "Mr. Rizzio asks me to request you to please dress 
 at once, as breakfast will be served in half an hour." 
 
 She obeyed blindly aware that there was no motion 
 to the deck of her cabin and that the Sylph was now 
 riding on an even keel. She verified her guess at the 
 nearness of their destination by a glance through the 
 port-hole, which showed her that the vessel had 
 reached the quieter waters of a bay or river in which 
 she slipped smoothly onward. There were vessels at 
 anchor, large and small, and beyond them she made 
 out the lines of a shore, upon which at intervals build- 
 ings loomed. 
 
 Mrs. Madden, the stewardess, would not talk and it 
 was not until she reached the breakfast table that 
 Doris learned where they were. 
 
 "We shall reach Bremen shortly," said Rizzio. "I 
 do not know how you feel about the matter, but I 
 would suggest that it would save you much trouble 
 and anxiety to trust yourself entirely into my hands.'* 
 
 "I know of nothing else," she said quietly. "What 
 are you going to do?" 
 
 "I shall confer with certain officials when we reach 
 the city, which will be in a few moments. After that 
 we will take the seven o'clock train for Windenberg."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 VON STROMBERG CATECHISES 
 
 TO the girl the way from Bremen to Windenberg 
 seemed interminable. She shared with John 
 Rizzio a private compartment in the train. 
 He was still ceremoniously polite and inclined to con- 
 versation, but now, thoroughly realizing the danger 
 which faced her as well as Cyril, Doris had decided 
 upon a policy of silence. She would wait until she 
 learned what they required of her and then perhaps 
 some instinct or inspiration would direct her. Of one 
 thing she was certain, that nothing could make her 
 speak if she did not think it wise to do so. 
 
 When Rizzio commented upon the beauty of the 
 passing landscape she assented with a smile and then 
 returned to her own thoughts. Cyril, she knew, would 
 be at Windenberg, for it was to Windenberg that the 
 Yellow Dove had made its flights. She had succeeded 
 in eliciting that much information from her captor 
 the other night at dinner when he was attempting by 
 frankness and hospitality to minimize the brutality 
 of his actions. She had many reasons to believe that 
 he had already regretted that frankness for at every 
 subsequent attempt of hers to get more informa- 
 tion about von Stromberg, John Rizzio had turned 
 the subject adroitly or had remained obstinately 
 silent. 
 
 She tried to put together the scraps of information 
 she possessed in order to understand just what Cyril's 
 
 172
 
 TON STEOMEERG CATECHISES 
 
 position at Windenberg might be. He had answered 
 the summons of the secret messenger willingly and at 
 once. That much was in his favor. If they had sus- 
 pected him before, this immediate obedience must have 
 disarmed them. In the mind of General von Strom- 
 berg there could be no possible reason why Cyril 
 should put himself at his mercy. General von Strom- 
 berg could not know as she knew that Cyril had an- 
 other mission to perform. She looked up quickly to 
 find John Rizzio's dark eyes gazing at her. He fright- 
 ened her at that moment, for it almost seemed from 
 the expression of his face that he had succeeded in 
 reading her thoughts and in the light of his previous 
 omniscience even that psychic feat seemed within the 
 realm of possibility. But he merely smiled at her and 
 looked out of the window. 
 
 That mission of Cyril's! What was it? The ob- 
 taining of some information necessary to England? 
 Some military secret such as the machinery of ord- 
 nance or the chemical mixture of explosive shells? Or 
 was it something more personal, more sinister and 
 dreadful the death of some high official perhaps the 
 Emperor himself? She shuddered and shut her eyes, 
 her mind painting unimaginable horrors. Not murder 
 even for Cyril she could not connive at that. Bu 
 he must be prepared to do something for him, to help 
 him, if she could by false testimony or if necessary, 
 no matter what they did to her, by silence. If they 
 suspected Cyril, of course he would be kept in ignor- 
 ance of her arrival. Of all these things and others 
 she thought with ever-growing doubt and timidity. 
 And all the while in the back of her head was the idea 
 of her possible appeal to the American Ambassador 
 at Berlin. 
 
 173
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 But if she had any hopes that an opportunity would 
 be given her to use the post, or even to be free from 
 surveillance, their arrival at Windenberg speedily di- 
 minished them. For upon the platform of the small 
 station a German officer met them and conducted them 
 at once to a closed carriage which started off through 
 the village immediately. The officer and Mr. Rizzio 
 exchanged a few commonplaces which politely included 
 her, but as to the real meaning of her visit and their 
 possible intentions nothing. So she sank back in her 
 seat and looked out through a small window at the 
 forest into which the road almost immediately passed, 
 reaching their destination in apparent calmness, the 
 high tension of her nerves resolutely schooled to obedi- 
 ence. 
 
 A farmhouse in the midst of meadows surrounded 
 by forests, with a broad hospitable door in which they 
 entered, seeing no one. The German officer who di- 
 rected them showed her the way to a room upstairs 
 and when she was in the room locked the door. She 
 was in the dark, for the shutters of the windows were 
 closed. Her first impulse at reaching a haven of pri- 
 vacy even though a prison was to seek the line of least 
 resistance and give her nerves the relaxation they 
 needed in tears. But she fought the weakness down, 
 going to the windows and peering out through a crack 
 in the shutters. When she tried to open them, she dis- 
 covered that they were locked or nailed from the out- 
 side. She had been a prisoner she knew, upon the 
 yacht, but the firmness with which the hard wood and 
 iron resisted her efforts gave her for the first time the 
 grim reality of her predicament. A prisoner in the 
 heart of a German forest with no way to turn for 
 help! Where was Cyril? Perhaps after all, her sur- 
 
 174
 
 VON STROMBERG CATECHISES 
 
 mises had been incorrect. They had sent him away to 
 Berlin. Or perhaps he had gone back in freedom to 
 England. Grave fears assailed her as to Rizzio and 
 his intentions. Once a friend, but after that an un- 
 successful lover! What did she know of him or of 
 these people into whose hands he was committing her? 
 Germans ! She was ready to believe anything of them 
 after Belgium the worst! Had Rizzio's story about 
 bringing her to the head of the Secret Service of Ger- 
 many been a mere invention to serve other ends? He 
 had told her at Kilmorack House that he would never 
 give her up. Was this what he had meant? A blind 
 terror seized her which seemed for the moment to 
 deaden all her faculties for analysis. The room, 
 though chill, seemed to stifle her, its walls and ceiling 
 to be closing in to crush her. She stumbled to the bed 
 upon which she fell and lay for a long while exhausted 
 and at last the blessing of tears came to her and 
 then, sleep. 
 
 How long Doris slept she did not know, but she 
 realized that it could not have been long, for strange 
 ugly figures came into her dreams and strange ugly 
 events followed each other with lightning swiftness. 
 But a knock upon the door brought her back to the 
 terrors of her predicament and she answered it, won- 
 dering what was to happen. It was a tall man in the 
 Jager uniform bearing a tray of food some toast, 
 eggs and a cup of chocolate. He entered with a smile 
 and a polite greeting in German, putting the tray upon 
 the table and then forcing open the shutters a little so 
 that a narrow bar of sunlight came into the room and 
 lay upon the bright drugget upon the floor. By its 
 light she examined the man. He was tali, grizzled at 
 the temples and walked with a slight limp. He smiled 
 
 175
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 at her again and she could not refrain from answering 
 the smile in kind. 
 
 "I hope the Fraulein will enjoy her lunch," he said. 
 "The toast especially, for I have made it myself. I 
 trust that the Fraulein prefers dry toast." 
 
 "Thanks, anything will do. I am not hungry. 
 
 "I am sorry," said the Forester, bowing and then 
 continuing in a lower tone: "The Fraulein will not 
 forget that the toast is excellent and that I made it 
 myself." 
 
 She examined him curiously, wondering whether he 
 were not perhaps a little demented. But at the door 
 he bowed and disappeared and she heard the key turn 
 in the lock. He was apparently not too demented to 
 forget that she was a prisoner. 
 
 She was not hungry but she knew that she must eat 
 something to keep up her strength for any ordeal that' 
 was in store for her, so she drew a chair to the table 
 and sat, pouring out the chocolate in the cup and 
 helping herself to the eggs. 
 
 All the while she thought of the strange behavior of 
 her servitor. Why did he lay such stress upon the ex- 
 cellence of the dry toast? And why because it was 
 dry? She raised a piece of it with her fingers and 
 examined it, lifted the second piece, when a gasp of 
 surprise escaped her. Above the third piece of toast, 
 folded neatly, was a thin strip of paper. She glanced 
 toward the door and window and then getting up from 
 the table and going to a spot where observation of 
 her actions was impossible, opened the slip of paper. 
 It was in Cyril's hand. 
 
 Don't be frightened [she read]. You are to be 
 questioned. Follow these instructions. I made copy 
 of message in Heathcote library night of dinner 
 176
 
 while waiting for you to get wraps. I hid it in right 
 sash of motor. Copy and original of message the 
 same. You and I are enemies. Therefore ignore 
 me. Rizzio acted for Scotland Yard. As to the rest 
 tell truth exactly and no harm can come to me. I 
 will find means later to communicate. Burn this 
 immediately. 
 
 Her heart beating high, she read the paper through 
 twice to familiarize herself with the instructions which 
 she perfectly understood. Then she found a match- 
 box on the candlestick, put the paper in the hearth 
 and burned it. After that she sat at the table and ate. 
 It was there that Captain von Winden found her some 
 moments later when he came to request her presence 
 
 in the room on the ground floor. 
 
 
 
 During the time that Doris slept, in the living-room 
 downstairs General von Stromberg sat with John Riz- 
 zio. A peaceful winter landscape looked in at the win- 
 dows, the sun slanted in a yellow rhomboid upon the 
 floor, a cheerful fire was burning upon the hearth and 
 General von Stromberg, his left hand tapping gently 
 upon the back of his right, was gravely listening to 
 John Rizzio's story. All of the pieces of the little 
 game were upon the board. He was now about to move 
 them skillfully from one square to another until only 
 one piece remained, and that one piece, the victor in 
 all such games, was himself. 
 
 "And what was his manner," went on von Strom- 
 berg, "when you showed your credentials?" 
 
 "He was surprised very much surprised and I 
 think alarmed." 
 
 "And what arguments did you use to make him give 
 the packet up?" 
 
 177
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "I threatened him with serious consequences." 
 
 "Which meant me, 9 ' said von Stromberg grimly. 
 
 "Yes, Excellenz. But he refused without other 
 grounds than his own judgment." 
 
 "And then " 
 
 "Excellenz, Fraulein Mather came in. She heard 
 something from behind the curtain but she gave no 
 sign." 
 
 "Oh! She is clever?" 
 
 "Exceptionally so. I have brought her here of my 
 own volition and she will speak if properly ap- 
 proached, but I hope Excellenz will be pleased to make 
 the interview as easy for her as possible. If any harm 
 should come to her " 
 
 "It is not the practice of my department to do 
 hurt to women," said the General quickly. Then he 
 laughed. "I suspect, Herr Rizzio, that you have a 
 tenderness in that quarter." 
 
 "It is true. I hope, therefore, that you will be 
 patient with her." 
 
 Von Stromberg waved his hand impatiently. 
 
 "And what happened then?" 
 
 "Hammer sley and Miss Mather went out. 1 re- 
 mained in the smoking-room and then telephoned to 
 Maxwell to send his men at once. They came. I met 
 them outside the house before Hammersley emerged 
 and gave them my instructions to follow Hammersley's 
 machine and get the papers." 
 
 The older man started forward, his long acquisitive 
 nose eagerly scenting a clue. 
 
 "And how long was it after they left the smoking- 
 room for the machine?" 
 
 Rizzio pulled at his mustache a moment thought- 
 fully. 
 
 178
 
 VON STROMEEEG CATECHISES 
 
 "I could not say exactly," he said after a time. "A 
 matter of half an hour perhaps." 
 
 "Did you know what Herr Hammersley was doing 
 in the meanwhile?" 
 
 "No. I could not say. I telephoned first and then 
 went out. The guests were all in the drawing-room." 
 
 "Did you go up to the library?" 
 
 Rizzio showed surprise. "No, Excellenz." 
 
 "Are you sure that Herr Hammersley was in the 
 drawing-room with the others when you went out ?" 
 
 "Yes, Excellenz. I am sure of it. There was no 
 reason for him to be anywhere else." 
 
 "There was no chance of his going upstairs to the 
 library for ten fifteen minutes without your seeing 
 him?" 
 
 Rizzio straightened and pulled at his mustache. 
 "Excellenz, I think I understand the object of your 
 questions. It is not possible that Herr Hammersley 
 could have made a copy of the papers at Lady Heath- 
 cote's house." 
 
 Von Stromberg paused a moment, then he asked: 
 
 "How long after you left the door of the house be- 
 fore he came out with the lady?" 
 
 "Scarcely more than ten minutes." 
 
 The General's fingers tapped more rapidly. 
 
 "Oh," he growled, "I see." And then, "Tell me how 
 the matter was arranged that Captain Byfield should 
 deliver those papers." 
 
 "Maxwell managed it through a cipher. The War 
 Office had grown suspicious and all the usual channels 
 were closed. Byfield was frightened and refused to 
 deliver jPurther messages. So Maxwell hit upon the 
 scheme of the cigarette papers to be delivered to Ham- 
 mersley. I could not receive them from Byfield be- 
 
 179
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 cause of your instructions not to let my interests be 
 known to anyone in England but Maxwell you 
 thought the time was not ripe for me to play my 
 coup" 
 
 "Yes," said von Stromberg dryly, "but the time is 
 ripe now and you are not there to play it." 
 
 "But this affair was of such importance 
 
 "Yes, yes," the general broke in quickly, "go on." 
 
 "It was the day of an anniversary always celebrated 
 for me by Lady Heathcote, whose house, as you know, 
 is one of the most exclusive in England and above 
 suspicion. I invited the guests and Maxwell communi- 
 cated with Hammersley, arranging the manner of the 
 exchange which was accomplished. My demand upon 
 Hammersley was made in accordance with your orders. 
 It was a test of his loyalty. He failed." 
 
 "Do you think he had an opportunity to glance at 
 the papers, I mean between the time he received them 
 and the time of your demand of him?" 
 
 "Yes. He studied them for a moment behind the 
 curtains of an alcove in the drawing-room. I was 
 watching. I saw his shadow as he bent over to the 
 light of the lamp." 
 
 "By that you mean he had a hope that they might 
 be spurious?" 
 
 "Yes, Excellenz. When it was discovered that there 
 was a leak, false orders were issued to test the differ- 
 ent departments of the War Office." 
 
 "H m. And then, Maxwell's men followed him, and 
 when he was on the point of capture he turned the 
 papers over to the lady, who escaped through the 
 hedge?" 
 
 "As I have said before, Excellenz, the lady is clever. 
 She read the papers, but her loyalty to Hammersley 
 
 180
 
 STROMBERG CATECHISES 
 
 kept her silent, though at that time she suspected that 
 he was a German agent." 
 
 "I see," said von Stromberg, manifesting a sudden 
 activity with his fingers. "The lady is interested in 
 Herr Hammersley?" 
 
 "Yes, ExceUenz." 
 
 "More interested in him, perhaps, than she is in 
 you?" 
 
 Rizzio bowed in silence. 
 
 "Gut," said von Stromberg rising. "That perhaps 
 makes matters more amusing for us perhaps a little 
 more amusing for Herr Hammersley." 
 
 He paced the floor with long strides while Rizzio 
 watched him until he stopped before the fire and spoke 
 again. 
 
 "Herr Rizzio, you have told me about the events in 
 Scotland when, as you say, Hammersley, acting as an 
 Englishman, warned the lady against you as an agent 
 of Germany. What I would like very much to know is 
 why, when you were sure he was acting for England, 
 you did not have him killed at once." 
 
 "I tried, Excellenz, but he was too well prepared for 
 me. My men shot at him on the road and wounded 
 him slightly but on the cliffs at Ben-a-Chielt he had 
 a confederate who killed one of my men. The other, 
 as I have related, fell over the cliffs." 
 
 "But you" put in the officer harshly "what were 
 you doing all the while?" 
 
 "I shot at him and missed." 
 
 "That was unfortunate from our point of view. It 
 is not the custom of agents of my department to miss 
 at anything, Herr Rizzio. But since Hammersley 
 is here, the damage, if damage there is, can be re- 
 paired. What did you do after that?" 
 
 181
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "I had reason to suspect that Hammersley was the 
 cause of the arrest of Captain Byfield. I had also rea- 
 son to suspect that he had informed, or would inform, 
 the War Office as to my connection with Germany. 
 Accordingly I had made arrangements to have my boat 
 within easy reaching distance of Ben-a-Chielt. With 
 the help of two other men who had been set to watch 
 the roads in case of surprises I kept watch on Ham- 
 mersley. Miss Mather we lost in the darkness of the 
 moor. This was unfortunate, as I had planned to take 
 her, too. But we followed Hammersley on horses to 
 Rudha Mor to be sure that he would obey your sum- 
 mons and fortune aided us, for Doris Mather had fol- 
 lowed him, too, and we managed to take her without 
 difficulty and brought her aboard the yacht. Ham- 
 mersley's departure for Germany, of course, relieved 
 me of all responsibility on his behalf." 
 
 Von Stromberg paused before the fireplace, his brows 
 puckering. 
 
 "On the whole, Herr Rizzio, you have done well. 
 I shall not complain. But if your story is true, I should 
 like you to tell me two things. The first is, why 
 should Herr Hammersley return to Germany to face 
 certain death at my hands?" 
 
 Rizzio shrugged his fine shoulders. 
 
 "Excellenz, I do not know. I did not think he 
 would come when I sent you my request to summon 
 him. The knowledge he possessed was dangerous to 
 me and I had made every possible plan to kill him at 
 Rudha Mor. Nothing that could have happened sur- 
 prised me more than when I saw him fly out in obedi- 
 ence to your message. It has puzzled me. I do not 
 know why he came unless it was to learn something in 
 Germany and return to England." 
 
 182
 
 VON STROMBERG CATECHISES 
 
 Von Stromberg gave a dry chuckle. 
 
 "The supposition does not flatter his intelligence or 
 mine. Aside from the difficulties of his position at 
 present, if he were seeking information as to the plans 
 of the Empire, he would have about as much chance of 
 getting away from here alive as you would have, Herr 
 Rizzio, in the same circumstances." 
 
 The old man towered to his full height and brought 
 his huge fist down with a crash upon the table which 
 startled Rizzio, who fingered his mustache, his face 
 a shade paler. 
 
 "I am glad, Excellenz," he said with a laugh, "that 
 I am not in Hammersley's shoes." 
 
 Disregarding Rizzio's comment, the old man paced 
 the floor again, storming. 
 
 "The other question that I would like to ask you is, 
 what has become of Herr Maxwell?" 
 
 Rizzio started up, now in genuine concern. 
 
 "Have you not heard from him, Excellenz?" 
 
 "No," roared the other. "Why haven't I? You 
 should know." 
 
 "I do not know. I saw him the day I left London 
 for Scotland. He was fully informed of all that had 
 happened. Could it be that " 
 
 Rizzio paused with a deep frown. 
 
 "Where is he? Why has he not reported? Could 
 anything have happened to him? What were you 
 thinking?" 
 
 "That Hammersley perhaps but that could hardly 
 be since he always moved under cover 
 
 "Du lieber Jesu! Speak out! Will you?" 
 
 "I thought that Hammersley might have been the 
 cause of his arrest." 
 
 "Oh, you think that? Why?" 
 183
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 "Because it was Hammersley who told the War Of- 
 fice of Byfield " 
 
 "What proof have you of that?" 
 
 "No one knew of Byfield's connection with us but 
 Hammersley, Maxwell and myself." 
 
 "Those were my orders. How do I know that they 
 were obeyed?" 
 
 "One doesn't disobey orders, Excellenz, with one's 
 head in a noose." 
 
 "H m. There are many necks in nooses at Win- 
 denberg. And one of the nooses will be tightened." 
 
 He had stopped before Rizzio and was scowling at 
 him with eyes that shot malevolence. Rizzio knew 
 something of von Stromberg's methods and was sure 
 that he was merely trying to intimidate him, to reduce 
 him to a consistency which would reveal hidden weak- 
 nesses in texture; yet, knowing this, Rizzio felt most 
 uncomfortable. He twirled his mustache and looked 
 out of the window, but his glance came back to von 
 Stromberg's eyes, which never wavered or changed in 
 intensity, as though under the influence of some strange 
 hypnotic attraction. 
 
 "You know, of course," the old man's harsh voice 
 snapped at him, "what Herr Hammersley accuses you 
 of?" 
 
 "I can imagine, Excellenz." 
 
 "He says that you have been acting for the English 
 Government." 
 
 Rizzio started up in alarm. 
 
 "You do not for a moment believe ' 
 
 "Don't get excited. I believe nothing which I do 
 not wish to believe. But he tells a very pretty story, 
 Herr Rizzio." 
 
 "He would," said Rizzio easily. "I will do him the 
 184
 
 VON STROMBERG CATECHISES 
 
 credit of saying that he is skillful. But a lie will dis- 
 cover itself in the end." 
 
 "Exactly. I am glad you agree with me. What I 
 now propose to do is to set the lie in motion. The 
 easiest way to provoke a liar is to put him upon the 
 defensive. You and Hammersley shall debate the mat- 
 ter. I shall be the judge of the debate. We shall see 
 what we shall see." 
 
 He strode to the table and was about to touch the 
 bell when Kizzio broke in. 
 
 "One moment, Excellenz. I should like to know on 
 what he bases his accusation." 
 
 "Humph! Not weakening, Rizzio?" 
 
 "Hardly, Excellenz," the other smiled. "It will not 
 be difficult for me to verify my statements if Ham- 
 mersley will only talk." 
 
 "You need not fear. He will talk." 
 
 "What I wanted to know, Excellenz, was the nature 
 of the information received in the yellow packet. 
 Would you permit ?" 
 
 "Not yet, Herr Rizzio, not yet. The contents of 
 the message will come in time. For the present there 
 is quite enough to occupy Herr Hammersley's mind 
 and yours." 
 
 Rizzio shrugged. "As you please. I would like to 
 know, however, before you summon him, whether his 
 accusation is based on my attempt upon his life." 
 
 Von Stromberg chuckled. "Is not that enough to 
 prejudice a man if he were honest?" 
 
 "Yes, if he were honest," said Rizzio. "Did he have 
 any authority for his belief?" 
 
 "Yes, Herr Rizzio," said the General, fixing Rizzio 
 with his stare. "He told me that Maxwell had learned 
 it from Byfield." 
 
 13 185
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "Byfield!" Rizzio started forward quickly. "Ham- 
 mersley is a fool. Have I not told Excellenz that 
 Byfield knew nothing whatever of my connection with 
 the affair?" 
 
 Von Stromberg stretched his long arms impatiently. 
 
 "Herr Maxwell, unfortunately, is silent. Captain 
 Byfield is in a position where the only questions that 
 can be put to him will be those at the Gates of Heaven 
 by his Maker." 
 
 He gave the bell on the table a resounding blow and 
 grinned mischieviously at Rizzio. 
 
 "You say that Herr Hammersley is a fool. He 
 asserts that you are one. I shall now smoke a cigar 
 and decide for myself which of you is correct." 
 
 And, as the soldier entered, "Tell Herr Hammersley 
 that I wish to see him here at once." 
 
 "I can only say, Excellenz," said Rizzio, when the 
 man went out, "that I am willing to abide by your 
 verdict." 
 
 "Even though it should be unfavorable to your- 
 self?" growled von Stromberg. 
 
 "That, Excellenz, is quite impossible." 
 
 *'I have known stranger things to happen. The 
 worst aspect of your case is that Herr Hammersley is 
 here. There was no need for him to come. You 
 yourself admit that. He had only to stay in England 
 ;o devote his talents to a more congenial occupation." 
 Von Stromberg puffed on his cigar and leaned across 
 the table. "Can you tell me why Herr Hammersley 
 came to Germany? Answer me correctly, Rizzio, and 
 I will give you every masterpiece in Belgium." 
 
 Rizzio frowned into the fire. 
 
 "I cannot say," he replied. "I have admitted that 
 he has puzzled me. I can only think of one thing. 
 
 186
 
 VON STROMBERG CATECHISES 
 
 Hammersley is a type of man who under the guise of 
 inefficiency does all things well. He is a sportsman. 
 He would do such a thing for the love of adventure, 
 because the danger, the excitement, appealed to him 
 because it was the 'sporting thing.' ' 
 
 "A reason, Rizzio," muttered von Stromberg, "but 
 not the real reason." 
 
 Rizzio started and a smile broke at the corners of 
 his lips. 
 
 "Oh ! You realize, then, that there is something else 
 ^ something ?" He paused. 
 
 "I realize nothing," growled the General. "Realiza- 
 tion, Rizzio, is the one banality of existence! Uncer- 
 tainty is the only thing worth while. When one is cer- 
 tain of anything it ceases to be interesting. That is 
 why Herr Hammersley, whom you call a fool in one 
 breath and a genius in the next, excites my profound 
 attention. Come, I think you will agree with me that 
 he is worth it." 
 
 "I do not like Hammersley, Excellenz." 
 
 "Naturlich! But that need not prevent your inter- 
 est in him, even though your interest is largely in his 
 death." 
 
 The phrase was significant, delivered significantly, 
 and in spite of himself Rizzio felt the gaze of the Gen- 
 eral piercing his veneer. 
 
 "I could feel no happiness in such a misfortune," $ 
 he said gravely, "notwithstanding my dislike of him." 
 
 A knock at the door interrupted further conversa- 
 tion and, at a command from the General, Hammers- 
 ley entered.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE INQUISITION 
 
 IF General von Stromberg had counted upon play- 
 ing a trump card in producing Rizzio at this 
 interview, Herr Hammersley's demeanor must 
 have disappointed him. For he entered the room with 
 cheerful composure, noted Rizzio, stared at him in sud- 
 den seriousness, and then turned to von Stromberg with 
 the air of a man briskly intent. 
 
 "You wanted to see me, Excellenz ?" he asked quietly. 
 
 He had evinced a mild surprise at Rizzio's presence, 
 but no discomposure. If anything, his manner now 
 had a kind of sober eagerness as at the imminence of 
 an issue in which a necessary if painful duty must be 
 performed. 
 
 General von Stromberg from his armchair regarded 
 him through a cloud of tobacco smoke. 
 
 "Yes, Herr Hammersley," said von Stromberg. "As 
 you will observe, Herr Rizzio has just arrived from 
 England. He followed you almost immediately upon 
 his yacht. It is most fortunate that he is here, for 
 there are several matters which we can discuss in pri- 
 vacy together." 
 
 "I am at your service, Excellenz," said Hammersley. 
 "If there are any facts which I can add to my report 
 I shall be glad." 
 
 His idiom was Hanoverian. Rizzio, quite cool, faced 
 him, upright, with folded arms. 
 
 "To begin with, meme Herren, we will sit. To stand 
 188
 
 THE INQUISITION 
 
 is the attitude of discomposure. One thinks more 
 calmly sitting down. You have my permission. So 
 Now we will proceed. I will outline in the briefest 
 words the situation. Herr Hammersley, an agent of 
 the Secret Service Department of the Imperial Gov- 
 ernment, is intrusted with the receipt and delivery of 
 certain secret messages. He receives them, but is re- 
 quested by Herr Rizzio, also an agent of the Secret 
 Service Department of the Imperial Government, on 
 authority of indubitable credentials, to relinquish the 
 message to Herr Rizzio. It is not necessary to state 
 the reasons of the Imperial Secret Service Department 
 in desiring the transfer of this message. It is suffi- 
 cient that Herr Hammersley refused to obey the or- 
 ders. He has given explanations which, on their face, 
 seem adequate. Upon the side of Herr Rizzio it may 
 be said that, failing in his object, he came to a certain 
 conclusion most unflattering to the loyalty of Herr 
 Hammersley. We will now proceed in orderly fashion 
 to hear the cause of Herr Hammersley's refusal and 
 the subsequent acts of Herr Rizzio which have creat- 
 ed so great a misunderstanding. Herr Hammersley, 
 bitte, you will tell us the facts as you have related 
 them." 
 
 "I learned from Herr Maxwell that Herr Rizzio 
 was playing a double game. Captain Byfield had fur- 
 nished him with full proofs of it, one of which was a 
 letter he had seen from Herr Rizzio to a military offi- 
 cer high in the councils of the War Office. This was 
 an additional reason, Excellenz, why Herr Maxwell 
 arranged with Captain Byfield that the cigarette pa- 
 pers should be delivered to me." 
 
 Rizzio leaned quickly forward, his face dark with 
 passion. "Excellenz," he began, "that could not possi- 
 
 189
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 bly be true. The real reason for the delivery of the 
 message to Herr Hammersley Excellenz well knows. 
 And Herr Maxwell would hardly send men to follow 
 Herr Hammersley at my request if he disbelieved in my 
 loyalty." 
 
 "Quite so. He would not and did not," said Ham- 
 mersley. "The men were not Herr Maxwell's. They 
 were men of Scotland Yard. It is quite obvious by 
 the way they bungled matters." 
 
 The General smiled delightedly. It was the sort of 
 joke he liked. "That is one point in your favor, Ham- 
 mersley." 
 
 Rizzio shrugged. 
 
 "Excellenz well knows," he said, "why those men 
 were sent. They had instructions to get the papers 
 for Maxwell." 
 
 "That is strange," said Hammersley. "If Maxwell 
 had asked me personally for the papers, I should have 
 given them to him. Maxwell would have known better 
 than to intrust those papers to a third person. It is 
 not likely that I should have given them up to any 
 man, even if Maxwell had sent him." 
 
 "It is unfortunate that Herr Maxwell is not here 
 to " 
 
 "One moment, Herr Rizzio," broke in the General. 
 Then to Hammersley, "What was the nature of the 
 letter which you say was sent by Herr Rizzio to a 
 high official of the War Office?" 
 
 "It was a statement in regard to the case of Carl 
 Hiiber, who, as you know, was shot last week in the 
 Tower of London." 
 
 "Ach!" Von Stromberg frowned. "We are killing 
 our evidence too fast, mem herr, a little too fast for 
 convenience. Bitte, we will kill no more German agents 
 
 190
 
 in the Tower until they have had an opportunity to 
 testify." 
 
 Hammersley smiled. 
 
 "Unfortunately, Excellenz, I have no means of re- 
 storing him to life," he said. "He was an excellent 
 man, and leaves, I believe, a wife and six children." 
 
 Von Stromberg tapped his fingers slowly. 
 
 "We will go on, if you please, with the discussion of 
 the general facts. You claim that Herr Maxwell, dis- 
 trusting Rizzio, arranged that the papers should be 
 handed from Captain Byfield to you. I have told you 
 that Maxwell had orders from me to put you to this 
 test?" 
 
 "Pardon, Excellenz. I did not know that at the 
 time. I only know that Herr Maxwell chose to disre- 
 gard your orders to him and Rizzio, instructing me 
 not to deliver the papers to Rizzio under any circum- 
 stances." 
 
 "When did Herr Maxwell make the discovery of 
 Herr Rizzio' s er treachery?" 
 
 "It was the evening of Lady Heathcote's dinner. 
 Captain Byfield had learned the truth that afternoon." 
 
 "One moment!" Rizzio rose, his face pale with an- 
 ger. "It is easy to manufacture evidence of this kind, 
 where both of the witnesses mentioned are beyond 
 reach. I will not even deny the truth of their charges. 
 They are too absurd. If I was acting for England. / 
 will Herr Hammersley tell me why the agents of Scot- 
 land Yard, whom he says I sent for, did not surround 
 the house at Ashwater Park and boldly demand the 
 papers from Miss Mather, in the name of the Govern- 
 ment and the law?" 
 
 "The reasons are obvious," replied Hammersley. "I 
 will give Herr Rizzio the credit for that much delicacy. 
 
 191
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 If his men had found the papers at Ashwater Park, 
 Fraulein Mather, whom Herr Rizzio esteems most 
 highly and who was quite innocent, would have even- 
 tually been imprisoned by the Government as a spy. 
 At his orders the house was therefore secretly searched 
 by night, I am happy to say, unsuccessfully. Herr 
 Rizzio will surely not~deny the kindness of his motives 
 upon that occasion?" 
 
 "Excellenz will take that reply for what it is worth. 
 Scotland Yard has never permitted sentimental con- 
 siderations to interfere with the performance of its 
 duties." 
 
 Hammersley went on stolidly: "I cannot conceive 
 of any agents of Germany attempting to kill me. This 
 my pursuers did at Saltham Rocks and again in the 
 person of Rizzio himself on the cliffs at Beaufort Head 
 even, Excellenz" Hammersley leaned forward, smil- 
 ing blandly "even after he knew that I had met Cap- 
 tain Stammer and conveyed my acceptance of Excel- 
 lenz's invitation to return to Germany." 
 
 "I was not sure that he would go." 
 
 "If not for any other reasons, Excellenz, the pursuit 
 of the agents of Scotland Yard would have been suffi- 
 cient. Fortunately, however, I had intended going as 
 the bearer of the Byfield message. And I carried it. 
 You can't deny that." 
 
 i "He brought a message, Excellenz," put in Rizzio 
 quickly. "But what message? There were two mes- 
 sages. One prepared by Captain Byfield the other 
 prepared by Hammersley." 
 
 "I do not deny that. When I discovered that I was 
 likely to have an interesting evening I made a copy 
 of the papers in a package of Riz-la-Croix which I 
 
 had in my " 
 
 19S
 
 THE INQUISITION 
 
 Rizzio broke in quickly. "That copy was made not 
 at Lady Heathcote's that night, but at the War Office 
 or elsewhere the following day. It was prepared for 
 the emergency of capture and, escaping that, for de- 
 livery to General von Stromberg." 
 
 "General von Stromberg has been told about those 
 papers. I have told him where and when I made the 
 copy." 
 
 "And where was that?" asked Rizzio keenly. 
 
 "In the library at Lady Heathcote's while you were 
 telephoning to Scotland Yard." 
 
 Rizzio struggled for control, and then with dignity 
 to von Stromberg, "I was telephoning to Herr Max- 
 well, Excellenz." He turned to Hammersley with a 
 confident smile. "Assuming for the moment that what 
 you say about copying the papers is true, what did 
 you do with the copy?" 
 
 "I took it out to the motor, where I slipped it down 
 the window sash," Hammersley laughed. "Surely, Riz- 
 zio, the tall man from Scotland Yard must have told 
 you that when I escaped I shouted to him that he had 
 not searched the motor." 
 
 General von Stromberg broke in suddenly. 
 
 "Why did you say that?" 
 
 Hammersley shrugged. "I had injured their motor, 
 and I knew that I should escape. The bravado of tri- 
 umph, Excellenz. I was rather happy, for, as a fact, 
 they had given me an uncomfortable evening." 
 
 Rizzio leaned across the table. 
 
 "Excellenz, it was to draw attention from the girl, 
 who had the original message and who had concealed 
 herself in a tree." 
 
 General von Stromberg took a small object from his 
 pocket and weighed it lightly in the fingers of one 
 
 193
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 hand. It was the package of Riz-la-Croix. As Ham- 
 mersley was about to speak, he held up the other hand 
 in demand for silence. 
 
 "We are not getting very far, meme Herren" he 
 said. "Both of you tell excellent stories of your ad- 
 ventures worthy of the best traditions of the Secrei 
 Service Department. If, as Herr Rizzio alleges, Herr 
 Hammersley has substituted other papers for the orig- 
 inal ones burned by Miss Doris Mather, Herr Ham- 
 mersley will be shot. If, as Herr Hammersley alleges, 
 Herr Rizzio was in communication with Scotland Yard, 
 the officers of which attempted the life of Herr Ham- 
 mersley while he bore dispatches for me, Herr Rizzio 
 will be shot. It is a very delicate matter, meine Her- 
 ren, one which will require much thought, since the 
 one man who could settle the question is in an English 
 prison." 
 
 Hammersley started a pace forward. "Oh, then he 
 is taken!" 
 
 Rizzio glanced quickly at Hammersley. 
 
 "Excellenz, the same person who caused the arrest 
 of Captain Byfield gave Maxwell to the police." 
 
 Von Stromberg's gaze followed Rizzio's to Ham- 
 mersley. 
 
 "And you, Herr Hammersley. What do you sug- 
 gest?" 
 
 "If the report is true, Excellenz, I quite agree witl 
 Herr Rizzio," he said easily. 
 
 Von Stromberg showed his teeth in a wolfish smile. 
 
 "And each of you contends that it was the other, 
 rticlit wahr?" 
 
 Hammersley merely nodded, but Rizzio was by this 
 time in a state which made self-control an impossi- 
 bility. "Excellenz," he cried hotly, "is it conceivable
 
 THE INQUISITION 
 
 that I should have come to Germany if I had been 
 guilty of the crime of which this man accuses me? I 
 have served Germany against " 
 
 "You forget, Herr Rizzio," said the General blandly, 
 "that Herr Hammersley has also come to Germany." 
 
 "And while he is here Germany is in danger. He is 
 a spy of England, Excellenz." 
 
 Hammersley only laughed. 
 
 "If I had been a spy of England, Excellenz, I surely 
 had many chances to serve England's cause. Why 
 should I have even met Captain Stammer at Beaufort 
 Cove? It would have been quite easy to have informed 
 the artillery officer at Innerwick and blown his de- 
 stroyer out of the water while she lay at anchor? 
 Herr Rizzio forgets that honesty is always provided 
 with proof. In reply to this accusation, I would ask 
 Herr Rizzio how he managed to pass through the cor- 
 don of British destroyers which guard the coast?" 
 
 Rizzio hesitated and von Stromberg spoke. 
 
 "That is a fair question. Answer." 
 
 "I had English papers as well as German. I came 
 away before the War Office had time to act upon Herr 
 Hammersley's information as to my services to Ger- 
 many." 
 
 Hammersley shrugged. "I make no reply." 
 
 Von Stromberg frowned at the opposite wall, snap- 
 ping the papers of the package in his fingers impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 "An Impasse! I suspected as much. We will now 
 resort to other means. The only possible solution of 
 this case, barring the unpleasant alternative of shoot- 
 ing both of you gentlemen in the garden this afternoon 
 lies in the nature of the dispatches themselves and in 
 the production of a material witness." 
 
 195
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 He brought his broad palm down on the bell upon 
 the table and said to Captain von Winden, who an- 
 swered it: 
 
 "You will bring Fraulein Doris Mather down to 
 this room at once." As Captain von Winden went 
 out, the eyes of both men were turned to Hammers- 
 ley. He started in surprise, and leaned forwarid 
 toward von Stromberg, slowly turning with a frown to 
 Rizzio. 
 
 "Doris Miss Mather here!" he muttered. "She 
 came with with Herr Rizzio?" 
 
 Von Stromberg nodded. 
 
 "Herr Rizzio persuaded her to come with him." 
 
 "Persuaded! It is impossible." He rose and took 
 a pace toward Rizzio. "What could have been his 
 object? I do not understand. It will be very cruel for 
 her to to see me since she knows that I am an enemy 
 of England, Excellenz. She it was who read the pa- 
 pers and burned them. If Herr Rizzio supposes that 
 
 Fraulein Mather's evidence will " He paused, his 
 
 brow knitting in thought. 
 
 "Her evidence is important," said von Stromberg. 
 "Under the circumstances you should be glad to have 
 such an enemy to testify against you. Sit down, Herr 
 Hammersley. I regret that the necessities of the case 
 require this witness." 
 
 Hammersley sat and, frowning at the wall opposite, 
 folded his arms. "I am at your orders, Excellenz. I 
 need not remind you that she will tell the truth." 
 
 "That," said von Stromberg, with a wide wave of 
 the hand, "is precisely what we are here for." 
 
 There was a silence, grim and amusing on von 
 Stromberg's part, self-restrained on Rizzio's. Ham- 
 mersley still sat staring at the wall, thoughtful and 
 
 196
 
 THE INQUISITION 
 
 apparently in no great enjoyment o the prospect. 
 
 When the door opened and Doris Mather entered 
 the three men rose. Her face was pale and lines of 
 care were at her eyes and lips, but there was no deny- 
 ing the proud poise of her head, the firmness of her 
 mouth and the steady look from her eyes as her glance 
 passed Rizzio and Hammersley and sought the figure 
 of the man in uniform. She measured him with a look 
 that neglected nothing, her gaze finally meeting the 
 dark shadow under the gray thatch of brows where his 
 small eyes gleamed at her. The General bowed, clicked 
 his heels together and brought forward a chair, which 
 he indicated with a polite gesture. 
 
 "I offer apologies, Fraulein, for the unfortunate 
 situation in which Destiny has placed you," he said 
 in excellent English. "Will you be seated?" 
 
 The girl sat and faced him, her gaze still fixed upon 
 his face. It was as though she meant to ignore the 
 presence of the other two men. General von Strom- 
 berg stared at her for a moment in silence, and then, 
 finding that his frown was only met by a look of calm 
 inquiry, smiled at her instead. 
 
 "You know, of course, Fraulein, the situation with 
 which you are confronted. Herr Rizzio has brought 
 you to Germany to shed what light you can upon the 
 mystery of these cigarette papers. Herr Hammers- 
 ley says that Herr Rizzio has been acting as an agent 
 of the English Government while professedly in the 
 service of Germany. Herr Rizzio says that Herr 
 Hammersley is an English spy. Your position is a 
 difficult one, but circumstances have woven you into 
 a piece of international politics. Your testimony is 
 of the utmost importance to one perhaps both of 
 these gentlemen." 
 
 197
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "I I will do what I can to enlighten you," she said 
 haltingly. "What do you wish to know?" 
 
 General von Stromberg beamed on her. 
 
 "Achy I am glad you take the sensible view of 
 things.'* He waved the package of cigarette papers 
 in his fingers. "You have seen this object before?" 
 
 "Yes, I think so. Will you let me look at it?" 
 
 The General moved his chair closer and put the 
 papers in her fingers. She opened the papers and 
 finding the message, scanned it closely, reading the 
 writing with deliberateness and then looking up into 
 von Stromberg's face. 
 
 "You have seen this before?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "At Lady Heathcote's house in Scotland." 
 
 "How did it come into your hands?" 
 
 "I found it on the floor of Mr. Hammersley's room." 
 
 "The night Herr Rizzio entered it, thinking it was 
 jours ?" 
 
 "Yes. That was the time." 
 
 "You are quite sure?" 
 
 "Quite." 
 
 "How did you identify it?" 
 
 "By certain peculiar characteristics of the hand- 
 writing, with which I am familiar." 
 
 "Mr. Hammersley's, is it not?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And how did this package of papers go out of 
 your possession?" 
 
 "Mr. Mr. Hammersley took them from me." 
 
 "By force?" 
 
 She raised her chin proudly and looked at her ques- 
 tioner and then lowered her eyes, replying quietly: 
 
 198
 
 THE INQUISITION 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "There was another package of cigarette papers of 
 the same make as these?" 
 
 "There was." 
 
 "You read them?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "Was this before or after you found the second 
 package these which I now have in my hand?" 
 
 "Before." 
 
 "How long before?" 
 
 "It was the night of Lady Heathcote's dinner in 
 London the night Mr. Hammersley took me home in 
 the machine." 
 
 "The night you were followed by men in another 
 machine?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You escaped to Ashwater Park with the package 
 of papers which Herr Hammersley had given you and, 
 after hiding in a tree, in the privacy of your room 
 read these papers?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "Were the contents of the papers you read at Ash- 
 water Park the same as those you hold in your hand?" 
 
 "As nearly as I can remember, they were, exactly." 
 
 "Word for word?" 
 
 "I cannot say that. There were certain names and 
 certain figures that I remember very clearly as being 
 
 exactly the same, I I " she hesitated. "There 
 
 were reasons why, in the state of mind that I was in, 
 what I saw remained impressed upon my memory." 
 
 Hammersley throughout had sat immovable. But 
 Rizzio, who had shown signs of anxiety, now inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 "Excellenz, I beg " 
 
 199
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 Von Stromberg silenced him with a gesture. 
 
 "If you will be pleased to continue, Fraulein. Do 
 you remember the numerals?" 
 
 "Some of them." 
 
 "And the towns and dates?" 
 
 "Some of them." 
 
 "And are they, the ones that you remember, identical 
 in both packets?" 
 
 "As far as I can remember." 
 
 Von Stromberg took the packet from her hands and 
 turned it over in his fingers. 
 
 "There is nothing about this packet, no distinguish- 
 ing mark that would make it different from the other., 
 the one that was burned?" 
 
 "None, except the handwriting." 
 
 "H-m." General von Stromberg put the packet into 
 an inside pocket and buttoned his coat carefully. 
 
 "So far so good. You are an intelligent witness, 
 Fraulein." 
 
 "Thank you." If the words of her questioner con- 
 tained an ulterior suggestion, the girl gave every in- 
 dication of being oblivious to it, listening with a grave 
 calmness to his next question. 
 
 "When you escaped into the tree, were you in a 
 position to hear what went on in the road?" 
 
 "I was." 
 
 "The men in the road searched Herr Hammersley?' ; 
 
 "They did." 
 
 "And at last he escaped?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Do you remember hearing him shout anything as 
 his motor moved away?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 200
 
 "That they hadn't searched the machine or words 
 to that effect." 
 
 Von Stromberg glanced at Rizzio, who was lean- 
 ing forward in his chair, eager to speak. 
 
 "Well, Herr Rizzio?" he asked. 
 
 "That was a diversion intended to give Miss 
 Mather more time in which to escape. The second 
 package was not in the motor. At that time there was 
 no second package." 
 
 Doris Mather's voice was raised just a trifle, but for 
 the moment it dominated. 
 
 "There was. Mr. Hammersley put it into the win-* 
 dow sash, when he was in danger of capture." 
 
 "Then why didn't he put them both there?" 
 
 "I suppose because he wanted to be sure that one 
 of them would reach its destination." 
 
 Von Stromberg grunted. "I see. But why did you 
 help Mr. Hammersley to save those papers when you 
 knew that they were dangerous to England?" 
 
 "I didn't know what they were. I did what he asked 
 me to do because because " 
 
 She faltered. 
 
 Von Stromberg waved his hand. 
 
 "Oh, very well. It does not matter. Who did you 
 think was pursuing Mr. Hammersley?" 
 
 "Agents of Mr. Rizzio." 
 
 "Why did you think that?" 
 
 "Because I heard part of what happened between 
 Mr. Rizzio and Mr. Hammersley in the smoking-room 
 at Lady Heathcote's and I knew that Mr. Rizzio had 
 threatened Mr. Hammersley." 
 
 "Did you think the men who followed you in the 
 other machine were German agents?" 
 
 Doris answered quickly. 
 
 14 201
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "Oh, no. I was sure that they were men of Scot- 
 land Yard." 
 
 "Are you sure now?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. Subsequent events have proved it to me 
 ^conclusively." 
 ' "Oh! What events?" 
 
 "The things that Mr. Rizzio did and what he wrote." 
 
 "He wrote to you?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Rizzio was swallowing uneasily, his face pale, his 
 hands trembling. 
 
 "Excellenz, I can explain at another time." 
 
 Von Stromberg regarded him coolly. 
 
 "I will hear you at another time. For the present, 
 Fraulein Mather will speak. What did Mr. Rizzio 
 write to you that led you to think that Mr. Rizzio 
 was in communication with Scotland Yard?" 
 
 "This letter, Excellenz." She put her fingers into 
 her waist and handed a crumpled paper to the General. 
 Rizzio had risen again and would have interposed but 
 von Stromberg waved him aside. 
 
 "You will all keep silence until questioned," he said 
 abruptly, and then smoothing the letter upon his 
 knee, read it with great care and deliberateness. Riz- 
 zio made an effort at composure but only succeeded in 
 bringing out a handkerchief and wiping his brows. 
 Hammersley watched von Stromberg intently. He was 
 not aware of the contents of this letter but the attitude 
 of the girl was distinctly reassuring. Von Stromberg's 
 brow puckered disagreeably and his long nose neared 
 the paper while his eyes peered at the sheet as though 
 his fiery gaze would burn into it. 
 
 He read the paper through twice and then brought 
 his hand down upon the table with a crash while his 
 
 202
 
 THE INQUISITION 
 
 voice thundered at Rizzio, toward whom he extended 
 the note. 
 
 "It is signed with your initials. Did you write 
 this?" 
 
 Rizzio bent and examined the letter. 
 
 "Excellenz, I did, but it was with the object of 
 bringing Miss Mather to " 
 
 "Silence! Perhaps you do not recall its terms. I 
 will refresh your memory." 
 
 "Excellenz, if I had not written that letter Miss 
 Mather would not have " 
 
 "Be quiet. Sit down. Please listen. 'I am telling 
 you this,' " he read, " 'to warn you that my generosity 
 to Hammersley is not actuated by any love of a man 
 who has spoiled my dearest ambition, but by the con- 
 tinued esteem with which I still regard yourself. I 
 do not love him; and my own wish, my duty, my own 
 honor, my loyalty to England all acclaim that he 
 should be delivered at once to those in authority. And 
 yet I have refrained for you, Doris. But I have 
 
 learned that H is in communication with G 
 
 and that Crenshaw of Scotland Yard is on the alert. 
 I may not be able to save him. 5 ' 
 
 Von Stromberg paused and laid the letter upon the 
 table. "I could read more," he said, "but that is 
 enough. When did you receive this letter, Fraulein?" 
 
 "The day after Mr. Hammersley was shot " 
 
 "And, acting upon it, you went to Ben-a-Chielt to 
 try to persuade him from the cause of Germany." 
 
 "Yes," she said clearly. 
 
 "You failed?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "H m." The General paused and turned to Rizzio. 
 
 "What have you to say?" 
 203
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "Merely, Excellenz, that I thought Miss Mather 
 knew too much for Germany's good and I chose this 
 means of getting her to Ben-a-Chielt." 
 
 "Where she could witness a secret meeting between 
 two officers of my department? Bah! Herr Rizzio, 
 your story leaks like a sieve. It is full of holes." He 
 touched the bell at his elbow and von Winden appeared. 
 "You will convey Herr Rizzio to the room on the 
 third floor. Put a guard over him." 
 
 Rizzio started to his feet, his face ghastly, while 
 beads of moisture stood out upon his forehead. 
 
 "You will not give me a chance to explain?" he 
 protested huskily. 
 
 "You will be given a hearing tomorrow." 
 
 "But, Excellenz " 
 
 "Take him away!" 
 
 As the door closed behind the two men, General von 
 Stromberg came forward and took Hammersley by 
 the hand. 
 
 "I am glad, mem Herr, that there is no longer any 
 suspicion upon you. I have always liked you, Herr 
 Hammersley, and you have done the Vaterland excel- 
 lent service. I am sorry that this investigation was 
 necessary, but in times like these I am not in a posi- 
 tion to take chances." 
 
 "I understand, Excellenz. But it hasn't discom- 
 moded me in the least." 
 
 Von Stromberg laughed. 
 
 "I can readily believe it. You are always as cool 
 as a morning in May. As for Fraulein Mather," and 
 he turned ceremoniously to Doris and bowed deeply, 
 "it has all been a mistake. If the efforts of a coun- 
 cilor of the Empire in undoing the wrong done you, 
 by sending you with every comfort and dispatch to 
 
 204
 
 THE INQUISITION 
 
 England, are any sign of regret, you shall be safely 
 on the way tomorrow. But I am sure that in your 
 heart you are glad to have had the opportunity to 
 clear Herr Hammersley of an unjust suspicion." 
 
 "Yes," she murmured, turning away toward the win- 
 dow. 
 
 "But you still wish that the part of Herr Hammers- 
 ley which is English had been the greater part of him 
 instead of the lesser, nicht wdlir?" 
 
 She bowed her head but did not reply. 
 
 "Perhaps it would be better if I left you two alone 
 together. There is doubtless much that you would 
 say which would be only interesting to yourselves." 
 
 And then he went out, closing the door behind him.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 THE GENERAL PLAYS TO WIN 
 
 WHEN General von Stromberg went out of the 
 room Doris turned toward Cyril, her hap- 
 piness in her eyes where he could read it 
 if he wished. But instead of coming to her he made 
 a warning gesture and then walked slowly around 
 the room, peering out of the windows and listening at 
 the doors until satisfied that they were unobserved. 
 Then he beckoned her to a spot out of the line of 
 vision of the door into the adjoining room. She 
 obeyed it wonderingly while he caught her in his arms 
 and kissed her passionately. 
 
 "Thank God," he whispered, "you understood." 
 
 "Oh, Cyril," she gasped, "if anything had happened 
 to you " 
 
 "We must be careful," he went on, whispering 
 hastily. "My success hangs by a hair. Tonight 
 the thing that I came for will be within my reach. 
 I must have it." 
 
 "There will be danger?" 
 
 ''I hope not. But you must not trust his promises 
 to send you away. You must get away from here 
 tonight before eleven. I will help you. Before then 
 I must see you alone. It is not safe to talk here." 
 
 He pressed her hand hurriedly and moved slowly 
 across the room close to the wall and door, which he 
 examined as he passed. 
 
 "But, Cyril " 
 
 206
 
 THE GENERAL PLAYS TO WIN 
 
 A warning finger stopped her. 
 
 "There is no use in your trying to persuade me, old 
 girl," he said, his voice raised to a tone which seemed 
 louder than necessary. "I am only doing my duty as 
 I see it. But whatever happens I can at least remem- 
 ber that you told the truth." 
 
 What did he mean? She couldn't understand. She 
 followed him with her gaze. The fingers of one hand 
 were tracing the flowers of the wallpaper upon one 
 side of the room, and as she looked he glanced out of 
 the window and then got quickly upon a chair and 
 peered into an aperture in the cornice. 
 
 "I am not sorry for Rizzio," he said again, dusting 
 off the chair and replacing it. "He only gets what he 
 deserved. What did he do to you? How did he find 
 you?" 
 
 A glance at his face showed her that he expected her 
 to reply. 
 
 "I was lost on the moor," she faltered. "I followed 
 you to Rudha Mor and saw you leave in the Yellow 
 Dove. When I turned to go back, a cloth was thrown 
 over my head. They chloroformed me ' 
 
 He muttered an imprecation. "And on the 
 yacht " 
 
 "I I had nothing to complain of. He did every- 
 thing he could for my comfort." 
 
 She watched him again moving around the room. 
 At the chimney he paused and, reaching swiftly 
 upward, lifted the clock and then put it into its place 
 again, the expression in his face still strained and 
 anxious. 
 
 "I am not sorry for him," he said again. Suddenly 
 he came to her saying in such a low whisper that she 
 could hardly hear him, 
 
 207
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "I'm not satisfied. There's something dangerous in 
 von Stromberg's sudden kindness. Act, Doris. We 
 are overheard." And then in louder tones, "If any- 
 thing had happened to you 
 
 She glanced around her timidly, her initiative sud- 
 denly at a loss. 
 
 "N-nothing happened to me," she repeated be- 
 wildered. 
 
 "I would have made another death for him a man's 
 death at least." 
 
 "It is terrible," she managed to say, "and I will 
 have been the cause of it." 
 
 He came closer and took her by the hand, speaking 
 distinctly. 
 
 "And do you regret that it is Rizzio instead of 
 me?" 
 
 "No, no," she stammered. Her accents of horror 
 were genuine, but it seemed more horrible that she 
 should be making a farce of her genuine emotions. 
 Yet Cyril's eyes impelled her. "It is terrible. I can't 
 believe " 
 
 "General von Stromberg is not a man to make idle 
 threats. I am glad that I am not in Rizzio's shoes." 
 
 She saw him pause, his mouth open, gazing upward 
 at the lithograph of Emperor William. To Doris the 
 picture merely typified power, ambition, intolerance of 
 any ideals but those of military glory. But it was not 
 at the portrait that Cyril was looking. He was exam- 
 ining the frame, which was swung a little to one side, 
 revealing a patch of unfaded wallpaper. He looked 
 down into the fireplace thoughtfully and while the girl 
 wondered what he was going to do next, he whirled 
 suddenly and moved quickly toward the door into the 
 hall, which he opened swiftly straight into the face 
 
 208
 
 THE GENERAL PLAYS TO WIN 
 
 of Captain Wentz, who managed to step back only in 
 time to avoid it. 
 
 But the officer was equal to the occasion. 
 
 "I was seeking General von Stromberg," he said 
 coolly. 
 
 "He isn't here," Doris heard Cyril say quietly. And 
 then, "I wanted a glass of water. Fraulein Mather 
 is feeling ill." 
 
 "Ah! I will have it brought at once." As he dis- 
 appeared in the passage to the kitchen, Cyril closed 
 the door and came in three strides to the fireplace, 
 reached up and raised the picture from the wall, peer- 
 ing under it, and touched the surface of the wallpaper 
 with the tips of his fingers. Then with great care he 
 put the picture back in its place and bent over Doris 
 close to her ear, whispering: "They suspect. Every- 
 thing we have said has been overheard. A microphone ! 
 I knew it was here somewhere." 
 
 The pallor of her face when the man from the 
 kitchen brought the water was almost convincing proof 
 of the truth of Hammersley's statement. She did look 
 ill, for terror of the situation that confronted them 
 had driven the blood back to her heart. A moment ago 
 the room had seemed so friendly, and now every object 
 in it was a menace. And above the mantel the Em- 
 peror of Germany with his upturned mustaches glared 
 down at her austerely, eloquent of the relentless forces 
 that held them in their thrall. Behind her she heard 
 Cyril whispering with the man who had brought the 
 water and realized that it was the tall soldier with the 
 lame leg who had brought her toast and eggs up- 
 stairs. 
 
 "DanJce sehr, Lindberg," Cyril said aloud. "She is 
 tired from the journey." 
 
 209
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "Perhaps, Herr Hammersley, a little fresh air will 
 help. A stroll in the kitchen garden." 
 
 Doris got up in sudden relief as she understood. 
 
 "Yes," she said. "Perhaps I will feel better in the 
 air." 
 
 Cyril led the way to the door and together they went 
 out. They heard sounds of heavy footsteps in the 
 hallway above but did not pause, making their way 
 along the path which led around the house. Cyril did 
 not turn toward her, but she heard him speaking. 
 
 "They will call us back. Do not be frightened. If 
 von Stromberg questions again, answer to the best of 
 your ability. I will find a means of reaching your 
 room tonight. In the meanwhile keep up your cour- 
 age" 
 
 She did not reply for she heard steps behind her, 
 and turning, found Captain Wentz, who bowed, taking 
 off his cap. 
 
 "General von Stromberg requests me to ask," he said 
 in very good English, "if Miss Mather will not give 
 him the pleasure of joining him in a cup of chocolate." 
 
 "He is very kind," she said slowly with a glance at 
 Cyril. "Of course I shall be very glad." 
 
 The officer replaced his cap and, turning to Ham- 
 mersley, spoke in German. 
 
 "His Excellenz also requests that Herr Hammers- 
 ley will remain within call." 
 
 Hammersley bowed. 
 
 "Tell his Excellenz with my compliments that with 
 his permission I will smoke my pipe here in the kitchen 
 garden." 
 
 Doris followed the officer into the room they had just 
 left and von Stromberg joined her almost immediately. 
 
 "Ach, gnadiges Fraulem," he said with his blandest 
 219
 
 THE GENERAL PLATS TO WIN 
 
 manner, "you will forgive me for calling you back from, 
 your contemplation of the beauties of this lovely after- 
 noon, but there are certain questions, merely trifling 
 ones, which have to do with the fate of Herr Rizzio 
 which I neglected to ask you. You will not begrudge 
 an old man the privilege of a few words over a cup 
 of chocolate?" 
 
 She smiled at him bravely, as a woman can do, even 
 in a last extremity, and told him that she was flat- 
 tered by this mark of his condescension. 
 
 A wave of the hand and Wentz disappeared, while 
 Lindberg, the lame man, entered with the chocolate. 
 The General had the tray put upon the table before 
 her and asked her to serve it, standing erect and 
 watching her with open admiration. Doris was fright- 
 ened, for she had already seen the power that this old 
 man possessed. But with an effort she found her com- 
 posure and made up her mind that if she was alarmed 
 von Stromberg at least should not be aware of it. The 
 safest defense against such a man was audacity. 
 
 "You were feeling ill," he said, suavely sympathetic. 
 "The long morning in the train and the strain of your 
 ordeal. It is but natural. A little cup of chocolate 
 and a biscuit should revive you wonderfully. Nicht 
 wahr?" His English, though excellent, had a slight 
 German accent and his tone the quality of a lullaby. 
 
 "It is very good," said Doris. "I have often heard 
 it said that nowhere in the world is chocolate so excel- 
 lent as in Germany." 
 
 "I trust that you may find it so. There are many 
 things beside chocolate that are excellent in Germany, 
 Fraulein Mather." 
 
 "I am sure that must be true," she said politely, 
 touching the cup to her lips. 
 
 211
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "Then why do you dislike us so much?" he asked 
 with a smile. 
 
 "It is not your people that I dislike so much, 
 General von Stromberg. Many of the most charming 
 people I have ever known have been Germans. It is 
 not what you are, but what you want to be, that I dis- 
 like; not your habits or your tastes, but your intoler- 
 ance of any civilization which happens to differ from 
 yours." 
 
 She paused, a little frightened at her temerity, but 
 von Stromberg still smiled. 
 
 "Go on," he chuckled, "you speak very prettily." 
 
 "I am an American, General von Stromberg, from 
 the United States, where people are accustomed to 
 speak what they feel, without fear of Use majeste. 
 If the President of the United States did something 
 that I didn't like I would write him a letter." 
 
 "And would he answer it?" he purred. 
 
 "If he had time, yes. If anyone wrote such a letter 
 to your Emperor, he would be boiled in oil." 
 
 Von Stromberg roared with delight. "Boiled in oil !" 
 he repeated. 
 
 "Yes or perhaps some more exquisite cruelty that 
 your ingenious people have devised," she said coolly. 
 "To prosaic minds like mine, Excellenz, you Germans 
 are the wonders of the age. You are both godlike and 
 Saturnian; a nation of military fanatics, a nation of 
 silly sentimentalists ; a nation trained to scientific bru- 
 tality, which shares the sorrows of the dying rose. 
 Which is it that you want us to think you, the god or 
 the satyr?" 
 
 "We know that we are the god," he said, showing his 
 teeth, "but we want you to think us the satyr." 
 
 "You have succeeded, Excellenz," she replied calmly. 
 212
 
 THE GENERAL PLAYS TO WIN 
 
 "It is very pleasant to be sitting here drinking choco- 
 late with a Geheimrath a councilor of the Empire 
 but you'll pardon me if I say that the peculiarly social 
 pleasure of the occasion is somewhat marred by the 
 fact that if the whim happened to strike you you could 
 have me strung up by the thumbs." 
 
 "You think that I am cruel? Ach, no, Fraulein. 
 You are mistaken," in his blandest tones. "I have a 
 daughter in East Prussia of just your age. For that 
 reason I would like to have you think of me a little 
 as the sentimentalist rather than as the the brute 
 as you have been pleased to suggest. I am not cruel 
 and I shall prove it to you." 
 
 "In America, Excellenz, we do not make war upon 
 women." 
 
 "Nor do I make war upon you," he put in quickly. 
 "I did not bring you to Germany, Fraulein. Herr 
 Rizzio acted upon his own responsibility. Even yet, if 
 he is an English agent, I cannot understand his pur- 
 pose in bringing such an incriminating document." 
 
 He smiled as he spoke, but she felt the question and 
 its threat. For a moment the directness of his attack 
 bewildered her and so she sipped her chocolate to gain 
 a moment of time. 
 
 "General von Stromberg," she said at last, as the 
 idea came to her, "I am told that you have one of the 
 keenest intellects in the Empire of Germany. I feel 
 much like a child before you, who should see matters 
 much more clearly than I. There were two reasons 
 why he brought me, one of which bears upon our per- 
 sonal relations, the other upon his relation to England. 
 I knew that he possessed your confidence, otherwise 
 he would not have been in possession of a document 
 which empowered Mr. Hammersley to give up the 
 
 213
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 secret message of Captain Byfield. I knew too much. 
 If I had told my friends in England what I knew, 
 his utility to England would have been gone." 
 
 "Why? It seems to me that having my confidence 
 would have made his utility to England the greater." 
 
 "He would have been suspected of double dealing, 
 would he not?" 
 
 "As a friend of England you would have let him 
 be suspected?" he asked quietly. "Given evidence 
 against a man whom you knew to be acting in Eng- 
 land's interests?" 
 
 "There were other other interests," she faltered, 
 "more important to me than England's Mr. Ham- 
 mersley's. You have a daughter, Excellenz. Perhaps 
 you would try to think of me as you would think of her 
 in a similar situation. When I read those papers at 
 Ashwater Park I knew that the man to whom I was 
 promised and of whom I had always thought as an 
 Englishman was acting as a secret agent a spy of 
 Germany. He was pursued by agents of the English 
 War Office. I knew that if his connection with Germany 
 were discovered he would be shot. I was frightened. I 
 did not know what to do. John Rizzio followed me to 
 Scotland and tried to get the papers. I refused to 
 give them to him. And then when when Mr. Ham- 
 mersley came I burned them. There was nothing 
 left for me to do for England for him. If there 
 were no papers there could be no evidence against 
 him." 
 
 She paused to get her breath, aware that her com- 
 panion was listening intently, and fearfully afraid that 
 she was saying too much. 
 
 "And then?" he asked. 
 
 "And then," she went on more slowly, "I found the 
 214
 
 THE GENERAL PLAYS TO WIN 
 
 other papers. When I wouldn't give them to him, 
 Mr. Hammersley took them away from me. We quar- 
 reled, Excellenz, and I gave him up." 
 
 "And after that" 
 
 "After that came Mr. Rizzio's note asking me to 
 go to Ben-a-Chielt and see the meeting between Cyr 
 between Mi. Hammersley and your messenger in the 
 last hope that I could make Mr. Hammersley give 
 up his plans to deliver the message to you. As you 
 know I failed. It was there after that that Mr. 
 Rizzio, who had overheard our conversation, tried to 
 kill Mr. Hammersley, knowing that he had resolved 
 to deliver the message." She got up and paced the 
 floor. "Oh, it is so clear, what Rizzio was, that I 
 wonder that it should be necessary for me to tell it to 
 you." 
 
 "Yes, I see. And the other the personal reasons 
 you mentioned." 
 
 She hesitated. "It is difficult to speak of them 
 but I will tell you. Mr. Rizzio has forfeited all right 
 to my loyalty. He offered to marry me. I refused 
 him. He told me he would never give me up. In 
 Scotland he threatened Cyril Mr. Hammersley's life. 
 I know now what he meant." 
 
 "Yes, but in his letter to you he does not threaten. 
 He urges that he is doing what he can to save Ham- 
 mersley !" 
 
 "I did not believe him. I was right. Events have 
 proved it. He would have been glad to see Mr. Ham- 
 mersley out of the way." She covered her face with 
 her hands and sank into her chair again. "Oh," she 
 whispered, "it is horrible horrible. And it is I who 
 must be the instrument of justice." 
 
 Von Stromberg waited for a moment, tapping one 
 215
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 finger of his left hand very slowly upon the back of 
 his right. 
 
 "Try to compose yourself, liebes Fraidein," he urged 
 calmly, and, as she looked up at him: "You say he 
 wanted to be rid of Herr Hammersley. Can you tell 
 me then, why his men did not shoot him when they had 
 him prisoner at Ashwater Park gates?" 
 
 "I do not know. Perhaps they would have done so 
 if he hadn't escaped." 
 
 Von Stromberg paused again, and then, gently : 
 
 "You love Herr Hammersley a great deal, Frau- 
 lein?" 
 
 She bent her gaze upon him appealingly. 
 
 "Would I now be here, Excellenz?" she asked. 
 
 Von Stromberg bent his head and then got up and 
 slowly paced the length of the room. When he re- 
 turned there was another note in his voice. It was 
 still quiet but the legato note had gone, and it was 
 ice-cold. 
 
 "You do well to tell your story through the medium 
 of sentiment which you well understand, rather than 
 through the medium of logic, which you do not under- 
 stand, which no woman understands." 
 
 At his change of tone she glanced up. He was leer- 
 ing at her unpleasantly. 
 
 "I do not know what you mean," she murmured. 
 
 "You are very clever, Fraulein, but your story has 
 a great many holes in it little holes which might grow 
 into big ones, if one were disposed to enlarge them. 
 There are several things which are not at all clear 
 to me. Of course it must be as apparent to you as it 
 is to me that if Herr Rizzio was^n English agent, by 
 remaining in England he had nothing to fear from 
 you or anyone else. His object, too, in bringing you 
 
 216
 
 "The truth, and he becomes an honorable prisoner of war. 
 Silence, and he is shot tomorrow. Speak."
 
 THE GENERAL PLAYS TO WIN 
 
 to Germany is clear. As you say, you knew too much, 
 not about his connection with the English War Office, 
 which, of course, would not matter in the least, but 
 about Herr Rizzio's connection with me, which would 
 have mattered a great deal." 
 
 He tapped his long forefinger upon his breast sig- 
 nificantly and leaned forward ominously across the 
 table. He dominated, hypnotized her. She closed her 
 eyes, trembling violently. 
 
 "Do you mean that you do not believe? His letter, 
 Excellenz surely you believe that to be genuine?" 
 
 "Bait, Fraulein that is all. Excellent bait. You 
 swallowed it. Herr Hammersley very cleverly pre- 
 pared himself against surprise. Only the fortunate 
 accident of your losing yourself upon the moor saved 
 Herr Rizzio from failure.'* 
 
 "Oh, you are all wrong. You are willfully making 
 me suffer. I have told the truth." 
 
 Von Stromberg straightened and drew from his 
 pocket a military telegraph form which he smoothed 
 out gently with his long, bony fingers. 
 
 "Unfortunately for Herr Hammersley I have just 
 received a message from another agent in London 
 in whom I have implicit faith. You read German a 
 little. Would you care to see it?" 
 
 He laid it upon the table before her eyes and she 
 looked, her eyes distended with terror of she knew 
 now what. 
 
 Hammersley caused arrest of Byfield. Has informed 
 on Rizzio and myself. Am in hiding in Kent. Will 
 reach Germany by usual methods. MAXWELL. 
 
 Doris sat immovable, petrified with horror. Von 
 Stromberg's voice crackled harshly at her ear. 
 15 217
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "Well? And what have you to say?" 
 
 "It is a lie!" she managed to stammer. "He lies ' 
 lies, I tell you!" 
 
 "Ach! If I could believe you! Why should he lie? 
 Unlike the case of Rizzio, Herr Hammersley has not 
 robbed Herr Maxwell of a bride." 
 
 "There is a mistake " 
 
 "I fear not." 
 
 "But why should Mr. Hammersley have come? He 
 would have been safe in England 
 
 "He himself says to the contrary 
 
 She was breaking fast and he sought further to 
 involve her. 
 
 "He did not have to come. Why should he have 
 come?" she asked wildly, rising to her feet and laying 
 her hands upon his arm. "Answer me that, Excellenz." 
 
 For reply he turned away from her abruptly and 
 walked the length of the room to an end window, 
 where he stood for a moment looking out. 
 
 "Come, Fraulein, and I will show you something." 
 
 She approached him blindly and followed his gaze 
 around the corner of the building. Upon a tree 
 stump in the kitchen garden, looking out across the 
 fields toward the wooded hills sat Hammersley, calmly 
 smoking. 
 
 "Half of his blood is English, half Prussian, Frau- 
 lein, but it is the English in him that dominates. Is 
 there anything that is Prussian about him? Tell me. 
 From the crown of his head to the sole of his foot 
 his pipe, his bent shoulders, his careless air he is 
 English, all English. He knows that at this moment 
 I am weighing his fate in the balance and yet he 
 smokes his short wooden pipe. If he has Prussian 
 blood it is a pity, for Germany needs all the Prussian 
 
 218
 
 THE GENERAL PLAYS TO WIN 
 
 blood that flows red in the veins of men." He paused 
 and then abruptly, "But the Prussian blood must be 
 sacrificed with the English - " 
 
 She fell back from him, deathly white, groping for 
 a chair to support her. 
 
 "You mean - " she whispered. 
 
 "That I can take no chances. He will be shot to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "O God! He is loyal to Germany. I swear it." 
 Her utterance was choked. Her breath came with 
 difficulty. The room darkened suddenly and she seemed 
 about to swoon. She dropped to her knees beside the 
 armchair, clinging to it, trying to speak, but no words 
 would come. She was aware of his hawk-like face bend- 
 ing over her as though in the act of striking its prey 
 and she heard his voice at her ear. 
 
 "There is one chance to save him." 
 
 She reached his hand and clung to it. 
 
 "A chance what " 
 
 "Tell me the truth," he said sternly. 
 
 "I I hare told you the truth. He is innocent." 
 
 He loosened her fingers and stood away. 
 
 "Quatsch!" he muttered, leaning forward. "The 
 truth, girl!" 
 
 She fell against the chair and clung to it for sup- 
 port. 
 
 "The truth, and he becomes an honorable prisoner 
 of war. Silence, and he is shot tomorrow. Speak." 
 
 "He is -- " The words choked her. "He is -- " 
 
 "Bah !" he growled, moving toward the table. "You 
 have already convicted him!" 
 
 She struggled to her feet and followed him. He was 
 about to touch the bell when she caught his arm. 
 
 219
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "Wait!" she whispered. "What guarantee have I 
 that he will not be injured?" 
 
 He shrugged and laughed. "I need give no guaran- 
 tee now, Fraulein. This is not a court of law! I am 
 the judge of what constitutes proof. You have testi- 
 fied." 
 
 He shook her off and sounded the bell, which was 
 immediately answered by Udo von Winden. 
 
 "You will conduct Fraulein Mather to her room up- 
 stairs. Lock the door and bring me the key. Then 
 tell Herr Hammersley that I am waiting to see him."
 
 CHAPTER XVH 
 LINDBERG 
 
 WHEN Hammersley entered the house with von 
 Winden he was immediately aware that a 
 crisis had come in his affairs, for in the hall 
 leading to the living-room stood Captain Wentz and 
 two soldiers, and when he was shown into von Strom- 
 berg's presence, the Councilor stood with his back 
 to the hearth, his long legs wide apart, his hands be- 
 hind his back and the expression of his long, bony face 
 was not pleasant to see. He smiled and frowned at 
 the same time a smile which possessed so few of the 
 ingredients of humor that the tangled brows even 
 seemed less ominous. Doris was nowhere to be seen. 
 Hammersley made no sign of his prescience of trouble. 
 He put his pipe in the pocket of his leather jacket, 
 strolled forward into the room and stood at attention. 
 "Search him !" snapped von Stromberg. And when von 
 Winden had finished, "Leave us," he said to the officer, 
 "and keep within call, I shall need you presently." 
 He waited until the door was closed and then turned 
 to Hammersley somberly. 
 
 "Your jig is danced, Herr Hammersley, Fraulein 
 Mather has confessed." 
 
 "Confessed what, Excellenz?" questioned Hammers- 
 ley calmly. 
 
 "She has told the truth." 
 
 "Of course, that was to be expected of her." 
 
 "Bah!" roared the General. "There's no need of 
 221
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 more of that. She told me that you were an English 
 
 Hammersley started forward, the only expression 
 on his face one of complete incredulity. "Fraulein 
 Mather told you that? Impossible!" 
 
 "Do you mean to say that you don't believe me?" 
 
 Hammersley managed a smile. 
 
 "It would hardly be good ethics for me to say that. 
 I simply repeat that it is impossible." 
 
 "Why?" Von Stromberg sneered. 
 
 "Because it is morally impossible for her to tell an 
 untruth." 
 
 "Ach, so. But it is physically impossible for her 
 to keep from not doing so." He leaned forward, grin- 
 ning craftily. "In the small games of life, in the things 
 which amount to nothing, women lie with a careless 
 skill that is amazing, but in a game of life and death, 
 their little tricks are negligible. Pouf! Herr Ham- 
 mersley, did you expect to match mere falsehood and 
 such a tissue of flimsy evidence against a man of my 
 experience? It was a desperate game from the begin- 
 ning one which could have had only one end. You 
 have been clever very, very clever. In time, perhaps, 
 under proper guidance and with the necessary political 
 opinions, you could have succeeded in becoming a very 
 useful helper of the Universe, through the medium of 
 the Secret Service Department of the German Em- 
 pire. But such cleverness is superficial and quickly 
 burns out in the hotter fire of genius. I would like you 
 to know " 
 
 "One moment, Excellenz," put in Hammersley 
 coolly. "Am I to understand from your attitude that 
 you believe I am false to the Vaterland?" 
 
 Von Stromberg laughed.
 
 LINDBERG 
 
 "You still insist on acting out the part?" 
 
 Hammersley did not answer the question. Instead 
 he asked, "Will you be good enough to tell me upon 
 what new evidence you base your present position?" 
 
 The Councilor strode to the table and thrust the 
 telegraphic message he had shown to the girl under 
 Hammersley's nose. 
 
 "This," he growled. "I will read it to you. 'Ham- 
 mersley caused arrest of Byfield. Has informed on 
 
 Rizzio and myself ' It's signed 'Maxwell.' What 
 
 do you think of my evidence?" He grinned, "Convinc- 
 ing, nicht wahr?" 
 
 Hammersley looked up into von Stromberg's face 
 with a smile. 
 
 "Not even in code, Excellenz? It is a pity you did 
 not write it in English. But under the circumstances 
 you can't expect me to take any interest in such a 
 trick." 
 
 "Not you, Herr Hammersley," he chuckled. "It is 
 not necessary that you should believe in it. In fact 
 there are reasons why you shouldn't believe in it, the 
 most important reason being that Herr Maxwell is 
 dead." 
 
 "Dead !" 
 
 "Obviously. You condemned him and he was put in 
 prison. If he is not dead it is through no fault of 
 yours." 
 
 Hammersley smiled. "You cannot get me to ac- 
 quiesce in such strange statements." 
 
 "I do not ask you to acquiesce. I could not expect 
 to catch Herr Hammersley by a trick. But Miss 
 Mather was less difficult." 
 
 Hammersley's jaws set. "I understand. But do 
 you mean to say that I can be incriminated by a con- 
 
 223
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 fession made under the stress of a terror artificially 
 produced ?" 
 
 i "That is a clever turn of phrase, Herr Hammers- 
 ley, worthy of the high regard with which I hold your 
 abilities. In reply I can only say that in time of war 
 my deductions in all matters connected with my de- 
 partment are final. You are an English spy, Herr 
 Hammersley, and you are quite aware of the penalty." 
 
 Hammersley raised his head and folded his arms. 
 "Quite," he replied, "if you choose to take that action. 
 I can only say that the time will come when you will 
 regret it." 
 
 "I must take that chance, for there will be no trial." 
 
 Hammersley shrugged his shoulders and turned 
 aside. His face was white and the muscles at his jaws 
 worked for a moment, but otherwise he gave no sign 
 of emotion. General von Stromberg had gone back to 
 his favorite pose by the mantel and Hammersley again 
 heard his voice. 
 
 "It seems a pity, Herr Hammersley, that after all 
 it should be you instead of Herr Rizzio who is the 
 culprit. You are a type of young man very much 
 to my liking, and the position of the young lady is 
 unpleasant in the extreme. She has served her purpose 
 here and I shall, of course, take immediate steps to 
 have her returned to her own people." 
 
 "Thanks," said Hammersley dryly. 
 
 "But the thing that has interested me in your case 
 from the first," he continued with a return of his mas- 
 todonic playfulness, "and indeed still continues to in- 
 terest me, is why you should choose to return to Ger- 
 many when you knew that you were under suspicion. 
 Surely you did not come here to pick cowslips in 
 March?, Come now, I could have you shot this after-
 
 LINDBERG 
 
 noon if I chose. Tell me the truth and I will promise 
 to postpone the affair until tomorrow." 
 
 Hammersley studied the pattern in the rug thought- 
 fully for a moment, and at last he straightened and 
 shrugged again. 
 
 "I don't suppose there is any use playing the game 
 further. Since I am to go, it doesn't matter if I tell 
 you. I have planned for some time to be able to get 
 plans of the recent additions to the fortifications of 
 Strassburg." 
 
 "Ach, so. Strassburg! And what, may I ask, were 
 to be your means of procuring them?" 
 
 "That, of course, since my utility has ceased, can- 
 not possibly be of interest to you." 
 
 Von Stromberg studied him narrowly for a long mo- 
 ment and then wagged his head sagely. It was an 
 unnecessary suspicion that he had cherished. This had 
 been a case with interesting aspects, but after all it 
 was not much out of the usual way. An English spy 
 betrayed by the simplest of tricks upon the credulity 
 and affection of a woman. He thought that Hammers- 
 ley had been after bigger game. Plans, fortifications 
 ' the same objects, the same methods. Von Stromberg 
 had tried to puzzle out in the mazes of his wonderful 
 brain the possible chance that this man could have 
 had of learning of the whereabouts of Herr Gotts- 
 chalk's memoranda and of the momentous decision 
 which had been reached in the Wilhelmstrasse with 
 regard to them. He studied Hammersley closely, with 
 something approaching regret that the contest between 
 them could not have been waged at greater length and 
 for higher stakes. He felt a genuine human sorrow at 
 this moment over the impending fate of this handsome 
 young man who was only doing his duty for the fatu- 
 
 225
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 ous English. It was too bad. But there was much 
 else to do. Tomorrow his mission in this part of the 
 Empire would be ended and the Wilhelmstrasse was 
 calling. He touched the bell upon the table and Cap- 
 tain Wentz entered. 
 
 "Herr Hammersley is to be taken to the room or 
 the third floor. Tonight you will see that he is se- 
 curely bound and a guard set over him, within the 
 room. You will place another guard outside below 
 his window. If he tries to escape, shoot him." 
 
 Wentz spoke to the man in the hall and Hammers- 
 ley, between them, was led to the foot of the steps, 
 and followed his captors to the upper story. He 
 knew, in view of the instructions that he had over- 
 heard, that any effort to escape would be fruitless. 
 He sat on the edge of the bed submitting calmly while 
 his feet and hands were bound under the direction of 
 Captain Wentz ; after which the officers went out, leav- 
 ing a man to guard him, and locked the door. Ham- 
 mersley rolled over on the bed and lay for a long while 
 staring at the wall. The day was fading into dusk. 
 Five o'clock, it might be, Hammersley guessed. Six 
 hours or less remained to him in which to act. Six 
 hours in which he must lie helpless while the one chance 
 of intercepting the messenger from Berlin came and 
 passed. He lay perfectly still as he had fallen, but 
 his spirit writhed in agony. 
 
 Doris was in a room near him, likewise a prisoner, 
 aware of the fate in store for him and able to do 
 nothing but wait as he would wait until the shots were 
 fired below there in the garden, which would be the 
 end of all things for him. He found that he was think- 
 ing little of himself. It was Doris and what she must 
 be suffering that occupied the moments of his thoughts 
 
 226
 
 ' LINDBERG 
 
 which were not given to the remote chances of escape. 
 
 His bonds were tightly drawn a rope tied with Ger- 
 man thoroughness. He moved his hands behind him 
 and tried to gain a little room for his present ease. 
 If he was to be shot tomorrow morning it would have 
 seemed indeed a small charity to have permitted him to 
 pass his last night in some degree of comfort. Could 
 it be that, after all, von Stromberg suspected the real 
 object of his return? That hardly seemed possible; 
 for his informant in Berlin, a woman close to those in 
 high authority, had made every move with the utmost 
 discretion and his own relations to Lindberg could not 
 possibly be suspected. 
 
 Lindberg! Hammersley turned and looked at his 
 guard who was standing motionless by the window, 
 gazing out at the fading landscape. Lindberg was his 
 one, his last desperate hope. Udo von Winden, his 
 cousin It was too much to hope that Udo would be 
 of service to him. He had caught a glimpse of Udo's 
 face in the hallway downstairs when von Stromberg's 
 orders were given. He had gone pale and stared at 
 him in pity and horror as Hammersley had gone up 
 the stairs, but Hammersley knew that the ties of kin- 
 ship, the memories of their boyhood together, were 
 nothing beside the iron will and indomitable authority 
 of the great man who had condemned him. Udo would 
 suffer when Hammersley died, for there had been a 
 time when the two had been much to each other, but 
 he would do his duty, however painful, as a small unit 
 of the relentless machine which Hammersley had had 
 the temerity to oppose. What else could be expected? 
 
 A word, a sign, the slightest aid to such a prisoner, 
 and he would be as guilty as his cousin. Hammersley 
 knew that he did Udo no injustice in supposing that 
 
 227
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 any help from such a source was out of the question. 
 If Udo had been caught in England as Hammersley 
 was caught in Germany, Hammersley knew that he 
 could do nothing to save him. 
 
 But Lindberg! Here the case was different. It 
 was Lindberg whose life Hammersley had saved three 
 years ago in this very forest, when the Forester had 
 stumbled and fallen in the path of an angry boar who 
 would have gored him to death, if Hammersley had not 
 shot the beast. Lindberg the Forester it was, who, in 
 his hours off duty, had been Hammersley's chosen com- 
 panion in many a hunt up through the rocky gorges 
 of these very mountains, every stick and stone of which 
 he knew as he knew his own rugged face in the mirror. 
 It was Lindberg who had been so useful in keeping 
 him informed of the exact state of affairs at Blaufel- 
 den. It was Lindberg who had learned of the micro- 
 phone that von Stromberg had installed and it was 
 Lindberg who had listened at the receiver upstairs in 
 von Stromberg's room to the conversation when the 
 Councilor had told Captain Wentz the nature of the 
 documents from Berlin and the hour of their arrival. 
 
 Already Lindberg had repaid a hundredfold the debt 
 of Hammersley's service and it was quite possible, now 
 that Hammersley's actual mission had been discovered, 
 that he would take to cover, his mind clear in the 
 thought that he had done all that could be expected 
 of him. But there was a warm affection between the 
 two, born of many a long day in the open and many a 
 night by the campfire where the old man had taught 
 him the Foresters' secrets of the trees, the birds in 
 their branches and of the many four-legged things 
 that scurried beneath them. They had often talked, 
 too, of many other things, and Hammersley had 
 
 228
 
 LINDBERG 
 
 learned that Lindberg's politics were those that one 
 learns under the open sky the eternal peace of Na- 
 ture, before which war and men, its armed instru- 
 ments, were a blasphemy. 
 
 Perhaps Lindberg would find a way. But what way? 
 How? Udo von Winden, too, was aware of the wood- 
 craft fellowship, for often he had made their duet a 
 trio. Hammersley knew that Udo von Winden as yet 
 suspected nothing of the services Lindberg had ren- 
 dered him and he wondered whether in this pass the 
 ties of kinship would be strong enough to keep him 
 silent as to the possible capabilities of the old Forester 
 for mischief in Hammersley's behalf. 
 
 Hammersley hoped. He clung to the thought of 
 Lindberg's fidelity and affection as a dying man clings 
 to the hope of Heaven. He tried to analyze the old 
 man's capacities for sympathy and courage. To help 
 a man in his position seemed to require larger stores 
 of both of these qualities than human clay was molded 
 for. Lindberg did not fear death, he knew, but the 
 death he courted was the kind of death Hammersley 
 had saved him from, a good death in a fair game with 
 a noble enemy, not the kind of death that awaited 
 Hammersley, a cold, machine-made death against a 
 kitchen wall. And he must know as Hammersley knew 
 that this was what would follow. 
 
 The dusk faded into dark and the soldier lit a candle. 
 Hammersley turned his head and examined him atten- 
 tively. His face was unfamiliar at Blaufelden, one of 
 the men probably sent down at von Stromberg's orders 
 from the upper district to be useful in just this emer- 
 gency. Von Stromberg would make no mistakes, of 
 course. He never did make mistakes. He had enough 
 men about him to cope with the situation safely. He 
 
 229
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 would leave no opportunity for his plans to miscarry. 
 Any opportunity, should there be one, must be created. 
 Hammersley managed to wriggle into a sitting posture 
 on the bed and spoke to his captor in German. 
 
 "You wouldn't mind my having a smoke, would 
 you?" he asked. 
 
 The man looked at him, debating the matter. 
 
 "Just get into the side pocket of my jacket and 
 fish out my pipe and tobacco, mein junger. I need a 
 smoke badly. And so would you if you were going 
 to be shot in the morning." 
 
 "Ach, wold. I see no harm in that, mem Herr. 
 You cannot smoke yourself away." 
 
 He came over, brought out Hammersley's short pipe, 
 filled it from the pouch and stuck it between his lips. 
 Then he got out a match and lighted it while Ham- 
 mersley puffed. 
 
 "Ah!" said Hammersley contentedly. "You are a 
 good fellow. Tomorrow morning I will give you my 
 blessing." 
 
 The man paced stolidly up and down beside the bed. 
 
 "I am sorry for you, mein Herr. But it is life. It 
 is all decided for us beforehand. We are here a mo- 
 ment and then we are gone." 
 
 Hammersley smiled. 
 
 "A fatalist! Then perhaps you can tell me if there 
 is any chance of my escape." 
 
 He was stopped abruptly. 
 
 "I can tell you that there is not," he said severely. 
 
 "I would have said as much. But it was a pardon- 
 able curiosity, nicht wahr?" 
 
 "Pardonable, ja wold," the man replied, "but most 
 unseemly under the circumstances." 
 
 "You have a deep sense of your responsibilities." 
 230
 
 LINDBERG 
 
 "Ja. I obey my orders, that is all. I do not care 
 what others do." 
 
 "Therefore you will shoot me tomorrow." 
 
 "Perhaps," he shrugged. "I am but an instrument 
 of Providence." He waved his hand. "But I talk too 
 I much, and so do you. It is not seemly in a soldier 
 and a prisoner." 
 
 Hammersley laughed. "You have a fine sense of the 
 fitness of things." 
 
 "Ja. It was so written." 
 
 He relapsed into silence and in spite of efforts on 
 Hammersley's part refused to speak further. It was 
 only after Hammersley badgered him for his unso- 
 ciability that he spoke with some asperity. 
 
 "I will trouble you to be quiet. When I am relieved, 
 my successor may let you speak and laugh as much 
 as you please. But it is unnatural in a man at the 
 point of death. It would be better if you were saying 
 your prayers." 
 
 "I am sure that you are right. But I still have a 
 few hours. Perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me the 
 hour at which you are to be relieved the hour when 
 we are both of us to be relieved?" 
 
 The man gazed at him uncomprehendingly. 
 
 "After supper." He finished indifferently, "Eight 
 , o'clock, perhaps." 
 
 Hammersley was silent. Two hours or more to wait 
 before a change of guards, and then only a chance that 
 Lindberg would be able to do something. Even then 
 if he managed to get loose, there was left little more 
 than an hour in which to reach the road by which 
 the machine would come from Berlin, and even then 
 what should he do without Doris? His case was des- 
 perate. Only a miracle it seemed could make a success 
 
 231
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 of what had been a pitiful failure; only an act of 
 Providence could save him from the discreditable end 
 that awaited him. 
 
 He drew up his knees and studied the knots at his 
 ankles. His guardian was the one who had tied them. 
 
 "You tie a good square knot, my friend. You were 
 once a sailor?" 
 
 But nothing would induce the soldier to talk. 
 
 As the supper hour approached, Hammersley could 
 hear the rattle of pans and dishes downstairs and no- 
 ticed the odor of coffee. They would not starve him, 
 of course. In a little while someone would come with 
 food. After a while, which seemed interminable, the 
 noise of the rattling dishes ceased and there was a 
 sound at the door into the hall as the key turned in 
 the lock and Captain Wentz entered. His sturdy back 
 had never seemed so ugly nor so welcome, for the 
 silence and the inaction were getting on Hammersley's 
 nerves. The officer came over to the bed and gravely 
 examined the knots of the rope that bound the pris- 
 oner. Then, satisfied with the results of his inspec- 
 tion, he straightened and glanced around the room. 
 
 "Gut," he muttered. And then to the soldier: "You 
 will go down and tell Lindberg to bring Herr Ham- 
 mersley's supper. I will stay here in the meanwhile. 
 You will then relieve the man at the door of his Ex- 
 cellenz." 
 
 The man saluted and departed. They still trusted 
 Lindberg. Then Udo had suspected nothing, or if he 
 had suspected, had kept his thoughts to himself. Ham- 
 mersley lay back on the pillow preparing a stolid in- 
 difference for Lindberg's entrance. And when the meal 
 was brought, Wentz untied his hands and stood over 
 him with an automatic while he ate.
 
 LINDBERG 
 
 "Your weapon makes a poor relish, Herr Haupt- 
 mann," said Hammersley with a laugh. 
 
 "I greatly regret its necessity," replied Wentz with 
 his machine-made politeness. 
 
 Hammersley ventured nothing further, eating si- 
 lently, and with a surprising appetite, for good Lind- 
 berg's face in the background had given him new 
 courage. When the meal was done, he asked for his 
 pipe again and Wentz ordered the Forester to fill it. 
 Hammersley inhaled the smoke and exhaled a sigh. 
 
 "So far as I am concerned, Herr Hauptmann," he 
 said with a smile, "when this pipe is finished you may 
 kill me at once." 
 
 He extended his wrists behind him in silence while 
 Captain Wentz took half a dozen turns of the rope 
 and made it fast. Hammersley sat up in bed puffing 
 at his pipe and wondering whether some miracle might 
 not be induced that would kill Wentz. But he was 
 quickly disillusioned, for when Lindberg took the 
 dishes and moved toward the door, he heard Wentz's 
 crisp orders: 
 
 "You will send Max Senf to take the first night 
 watch upon the prisoner. He is awaiting my orders 
 in the guard room. Schnett" 
 
 Without even a glance at the prisoner Lindberg 
 saluted and went out and Hammersley's spirits fell. 
 Help from Lindberg was impossible. Von Stromberg 
 was taking every precaution. There was no way out 
 of it. Hammersley was doomed. But while Wentz 
 was in the room he kept a cheerful countenance, though 
 for the first time in his life that he could remember 
 his pipe was acrid. He saw the new guard enter and 
 heard the last orders of the officer. 
 
 "You will watch until one o'clock when your relief 
 16 233
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 will be sent. The prisoner is to be allowed no privi- 
 leges. Under no circumstances are his hands to be 
 untied. If he wants water, you will give it to him 
 with your own hands. Verstehen sie?" 
 
 The man stood erect and saluted. "Zu befehl, Herr 
 Hauptmann," he said. 
 
 Hammersley saw the door close and heard the key 
 turn in the lock while Senf came forward into the 
 room and stood by the foot of the bed. Hammersley 
 studied him closely: a tall, loosely jointed man in his 
 early thirties with the heavy brows and high cheek- 
 bones of the East Prussian, the face of a Slav, almost, 
 with something of the thoughtful intensity of the South 
 German mystic. His eyes were large, his nose thin and 
 his face was bearded, but the lines of his mouth had 
 a sensitive curve, belied by the big bony hands and 
 broad shoulders. A sentimentalist, perhaps ! 
 
 Hammersley determined to try him, for a plan had 
 been forming in his mind. He had noticed with a 
 glance which had included everything in the room when 
 he entered, a Bible upon the mantelshelf, and in a 
 tone which had in it a solemn sense of the doom which 
 awaited him in the morning, he addressed his guardian 
 quietly : 
 
 "Senf, you have a kind face. There is a small favor 
 that you may do me." 
 
 "If it does not conflict with my orders." 
 
 "Not at all. Tomorrow morning I am to Be shot. 
 All I ask is that you will allow me to read for a while 
 the Bible upon the chimneypiece." 
 
 "Ach! I see no harm in that." 
 
 He went over and got the book, opening the pages 
 and looking through them. 
 
 "It is little enough for a dying man to ask," he said. 
 234
 
 LINDBERG 
 
 "Danke," said Hammersley quietly, his face solemn 
 but his mind working rapidly. "It is but right to 
 make one's peace with the world at a time like 
 this." 
 
 "I am sorry, mem Herr," said the man mournfully. 
 "It is not good for a man to die in the first flush of 
 youth." 
 
 "If it could only have been in the open, Senf, a 
 soldier's death, but this Ach, wohl we can only go 
 once. It doesn't matter." He gave a deep sigh and 
 asked his guardian to light his pipe again and open 
 the Book at the Psalms of David. 
 
 "I cannot turn the pages, my friend. It is a pity. 
 But propped upon one elbow I can see quite well if 
 you will but put the candle here upon the bed." 
 
 The man did as requested and Hammersley thanked 
 him. 
 
 "You are a kind fellow. It is bread upon the waters* 
 You will find it after many days." 
 
 "It is nothing. I would expect as much from an- 
 other. 5 ' 
 
 "Now, if you will permit, I would prefer the solitude 
 of my thoughts." 
 
 The soldier turned slowly away and Hammersley 
 bent his gaze upon the open page, but he did not read. 
 He was thinking, planning, watching the movements 
 of Max Senf. Eight o'clock was long past. It must 
 be nearly nine. But two hours remained before the 
 arrival of the messenger from Berlin. His guardian 
 paced slowly up and down the room between the door 
 and window, and Hammersley felt, if he did not see, his 
 deep bovine gaze fixed upon him from time to time. 
 Eight or ten times the man took the length of the room 
 and then with a deep sigh he sank into the chair at the 
 
 235
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 foot of the bed. Hammersley did not move his head, 
 which remained bent forward over the book, but from 
 the tail of his eye he noted that the tall footboard of 
 the old-fashioned bed partially concealed him. Propped 
 up as he was he could see the man's head as far down as 
 the tip of his nose, but all of his head was in shadow. 
 Arguing from this, everything upon the bed below the 
 line of the flame of the candle was invisible to him. 
 But a quick glance showed Hammersley that the man 
 was not looking at him. His dark eyes were peering 
 straight before him at the opposite wall and his mind 
 was wrapped in some gloomy vision. 
 
 The plan he had in mind required subtlety. He 
 marked the shadows upon the ceiling and moved up in 
 the bed so that his own shadow would be thrown be- 
 hind the line of sight of his guardian. Then he paused 
 again, his eyes fixed on the pages, waiting for Senf to 
 look at him again. He heard the man move in his 
 chair, which creaked as he settled more comfortably 
 into it. And when Hammersley looked again, only 
 his eyes were visible, their gaze fixed darkly ahead of 
 him. 
 
 Hammersley now puffed a volume of smoke from his 
 pipe and slowly wriggled his left arm forward under 
 him, so that he could see the knot that tied his wrists. 
 It was a large knot, but vulnerable. He puffed more 
 smoke, meanwhile watching the top of the head of 
 Senf. As it did not move, he lay over half upon his 
 back, and, taking care not to disturb the book, slowly 
 advanced his arms behind him toward the blaze of the 
 candle. The knot of the rope caught and blazed, but 
 the candle sputtered, and he quickly withdrew his 
 hands, sending a volume of smoke from his pipe to neu- 
 tralize the odor. Senf sniffed the air curiously. 
 
 236
 
 LINDBERG 
 
 "Something is burning," Hammer sley heard him 
 mutter. 
 
 "My pipe," he explained carefully. "It is a vile to- 
 bacco. . But it will go out of the crack at the win- 
 dow." 
 
 "Will you not try mine, Herr Hammersley? Per- 
 haps it is better." 
 
 "No, thanks. Nothing much matters to a dead 
 man." 
 
 His guardian settled back in his chair, and Ham- 
 mersley repeated his maneuver more daringly, his own 
 pipe seething like a furnace. 
 
 "You are a furious smoker, Herr Hammersley," 
 said Senf again. 
 
 "It is the way one smokes, mem Junger, when one 
 smokes for the last time," he replied. 
 
 But the fellow got up, sniffing and walking around 
 the room. 
 
 "It is a most curious tobacco," he muttered. 
 
 Hammersley's wrists pained him where his bonds 
 had cut, but he kept his gaze upon the page of the 
 book, and Senf sat in his chair again. A strong pull 
 of his arms and Hammersley felt the tension relax. 
 His bonds came looser and after a few more efforts 
 his wrists were free. His heart was jumping and he 
 feared a stray glance of the watcher might see the 
 throbbing of the blood at his temples, but he clasped! 
 his hands behind him and waited, slipping the sundered 
 rope beneath a fold of the blanket. 
 
 Two three minutes passed and Senf did not move. 
 The untying of his feet might prove a difficult matter, 
 but he made the venture, working slowly and patiently, 
 his gaze on Senf's head. Then, as the knot yielded a 
 little to his prying fingers, his gaze quickly concen- 
 
 237
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 trated on it. In his efforts he must have made a 
 sound or a suspicious movement of the shoulders, for 
 when he looked up he saw the head of Max Senf pro- 
 jecting above the tailboard of the bed, his large eyes 
 protruding with amazement. They gazed at each other 
 for a tense fraction of a second and then sprang up- 
 right. Hammersley threw his feet out upon the floor 
 and leaped for the man, catching him around the waist 
 so that he could not draw a weapon. His legs were 
 useless and the only chance he had, a desperate one at 
 best, was to drag the man to the floor by sheer weight 
 and there perhaps throttle him. Senf beat with his 
 heavy fists on Hammersley's head and shoulders, and 
 finally forced him backwards upon the floor, falling 
 with him, but Hammersley still clung with frantic 
 grip which the man could not shake off. But at last 
 he managed to get his fingers around Hammersley's 
 throat and tried to force his head back. 
 
 Hammersley gasped for breath, but still struggled 
 gamely, though he realized that he had played his last 
 card. Things got dark, and dimly he saw the door ci 
 the room open and someone enter. Wentz, of course. 
 His game was up. 
 
 Senf was panting heavily. "He burnt the rope," 
 Hammersley heard him say. "Come and help me. He 
 has a grip of iron." 
 
 The figure from the door moved quickly around the 
 squirming figures, and Hammersley saw the reflection 
 of the candle on something bright. A knife. He 
 heard a blow, and the mass of struggling flesh above 
 him suddenly collapsed and smothered him with its 
 weight. With an effort he struggled free and 
 rolled aside, looking up into the grim face of Lind- 
 berg. 
 
 238
 
 LINDBERG 
 
 "Sh " the man whispered. "I had to do it. 
 There was no other way. I've been waiting outside.*' 
 
 Hammersley tried to speak, but his throat closed, 
 and while he struggled for his breath, he saw Lind- 
 berg go to the door and stand, his ear to the keyhole, 
 listening. In a moment he came back. 
 
 "Ganz gut! They have heard nothing." 
 
 "Are you sure?" Hammersley managed to gasp, as 
 Lindberg cut the rope that bound his ankles. 
 
 "Yes. He was so sure of himself that he did not 
 shout." 
 
 He helped the prisoner to his feet and they clasped 
 hands. 
 
 "Good Lindberg ! My friend ! I had given up." 
 
 "I have waited until the beer was served. It is well. 
 
 And now " He looked around the room quickly. 
 
 "You shall go." 
 
 Hammersley had a sudden thought. 
 
 "Captain von Winden sent you?" 
 
 "No. He knows nothing. But he has not spoken. 
 It is now after nine o'clock. By half past nine you 
 must go." 
 
 "Ja doch! But you !" 
 
 "I shall remain." 
 
 "No, no ; I will not consent to that." 
 
 "Yes, I have thought out a plan." / 
 
 "But they will suspect. They will shoot you." 
 
 "No, they will not. Have I not told you that I 
 have thought out a plan?" 
 
 "I will listen to it." 
 
 Lindberg meanwhile had been unstrapping his pistol 
 holster and put it on a chair. 
 
 Hammersley glanced over his shoulder at the door. 
 "But they may come again," he whispered. 
 
 239
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "I think not. There is little time to lose. We will 
 have to take the chance." 
 
 "But if they return and find me free it will only 
 cause your death and do me no good." 
 
 "Herr Hammersley, you should know by this time 
 that I do not waste words. Have I not told you that 
 I have made a plan? Listen. This is my story for 
 Herr Hauptmann Wentz. I happen to be in the hall- 
 way without, carrying a pitcher of water to the room 
 of Miss Mather the pitcher is outside on the table 
 when I hear the sounds of a commotion in this room. 
 Fearing that the prisoner has by some miracle gotten 
 free, I unlock the door with my pass-key and enter. 
 You have burned your bonds and killed Senf. You 
 
 spring on me and make me a prisoner " He 
 
 paused. 
 
 "And you " Hammersley broke in. "You will be 
 
 left here? No, I won't leave you not to that fate. 
 I will not go unless you go with me. We will contrive 
 a way to get out of the country." 
 
 "Ach, nem! Will you not listen? Have I not told 
 you that I have thought of everything? I have com- 
 municated with the lady. She is ready to go with 
 you. Her room has a dormer window around the cor- 
 ner of the building, and there is a ledge along the roof. 
 You will go to her. The distance to the roof of the 
 , kitchen is thirty feet. It will require four sheets, 
 yours and hers. They are new ones and if well twisted 
 will hold. If you get away safely you can reach the 
 cave in the Thorwald. No one will ever find you 
 there " 
 
 "Yes, Lindberg but you what will you say to 
 them?" 
 
 "It is no time to waste words. Even now the lady 
 240
 
 LINDBERG 
 
 is waiting for you. Come, you must get ready at 
 once." 
 
 He walked to the bed and quickly stripped off the 
 blankets, twisting the sheets and tying them together. 
 Then he took his pistol belt and fastened it around 
 Hammersley's waist, slipping a handful of loose car- 
 tridges into the side pocket of his leather jacket. 
 
 Hammersley, bewildered by the devotion of his old 
 friend and tossed between alternatives of duty, stood 
 helplessly. At the moment when he needed resolution 
 most he was supine. But Jie minutes were passing. 
 The thought of his mission suddenly brought him to 
 life, and his face grew hard, his eyes brilliant with 
 purpose. 
 
 "Come, Lindberg. You must go with me." 
 
 "No," the man insisted. "My plan is the best." 
 
 "No. You must come with me." 
 
 "I have made other plans, Herr Hammersley,'* he 
 whispered gently. "You will go alone. I will give you 
 a reason." And before Hammersley could know what 
 he meant to do, he drew his hunting-knife from its 
 sheath in Hammersley's belt and plunged it into his 
 own shoulder. 
 
 Hammersley could scarcely restrain a cry, but Lind- 
 berg smiled at him and plucking the weapon out, put 
 it in Hammersley's outstretched hand. 
 
 "It is nothing," he said. "It will bleed a little. The 
 more it bleeds the better my case with Excellenz. 
 They will be here in three hours, if not before. Now 
 bind and gag me quick. There is no time to lose." 
 
 He lay flat upon the floor and as in a dream Ham- 
 mersley obeyed him, tying his arms and legs. When 
 he had finished, Hammersley bent over the man and 
 touched his hand gently. 
 
 241
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "Good-by, old friend. Whatever happens I will 
 not forget. God bless you." 
 
 There was a bright, keen look in the small gray eyes 
 upturned to his. 
 
 That was all Hammersley could see of the swathed 
 head, but it gave him a new idea of self-sacrifice.
 
 CHAPTER XVHI 
 
 SUCCESS 
 
 HAMMERSLEY'S first act was to take off his 
 shoes and slip one into each pocket of his 
 jacket. They were soled with rubber, but 
 even that he feared would make a sound. Then he put 
 the box of matches in his pocket and blew out the can- 
 dle, overturning it on the floor. The shutters of the 
 window were closed, and if they were opened carefully 
 the man in the garden below might not notice any 
 change in the appearance of the window. Hammersley 
 buttoned his jacket and, carefully pushing back the 
 shutter, peered out. Fortunately the night had fallen 
 darkly, and overhead black clouds were lowering, and 
 while he hesitated, searching the paths below for the 
 figure of the guard, there was a patter of rain upon 
 the roof. The gods were propitious. 
 
 At last he made out a dark bulk moving to and fro 
 along the garden path toward the toolhouse. Ham- 
 mersley watched, waiting until the man's back was 
 i turned, when he opened the shutter wider and threw 
 i the rope of sheets out upon the ledge. Closing the 
 shutter again, he came toward the house. So far so 
 good, for the whiteness of the sheets would have been 
 plainly visible had the guard been looking. The next 
 stage of his escape was more difficult, and he let the 
 fellow go and come twice along his path as he timed his 
 new move. He tried the shutter carefully to see that 
 it did not creak and measured with his eye the distance 
 
 243
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 to the living-room chimney, which he must reach, dur- 
 ing the twenty paces the soldier would take toward 
 the toolhouse. A wind was blowing in the treetops 
 and somewhere below him a young oak was rustling 
 its last year's leaves. The shutter fortunately opened 
 in the direction in which he must go, so he sat upon 
 the window-sill, doubled up, and when the time came, 
 without looking again at the guard, moved quickly, 
 slipping out noiselessly, closing the shutter behind him 
 and, gathering up the sheet as he went, crept like a 
 cat on a wall along the narrow ledge. It creaked with 
 his weight, and some small object that his foot bad 
 touched grated along the roof and fell to the ground 
 below. A tiny sound at best, but magnified in Ham- 
 mersley's ears a hundred times. He had reached the 
 wide chimney and waited above it, listening for the 
 footsteps of the man below. 
 
 There was no sound. The man had stopped walk- 
 ing. Hammersley did not dare look out from his hid- 
 ing-place, but he knew that in that moment his fate 
 was hanging in a balance. Just then a heavier gust 
 of wind than usual dislodged a broken branch from a 
 tree nearby, which fell to the ground. Still the man 
 below did not move and Hammersley blessed his wis- 
 dom in closing the shutter, for he knew that the guard 
 must be peering upward, searching for a sign of any- 
 thing unsual in its appearance. 
 
 Hammersley held his breath, straining his ears for 
 the sound that would tell him that he had not failed. 
 In a while, which seemed interminable, it began again, 
 the slow crunch of gravel under a heavy foot ceased, 
 and began again, as though uncertainly, so he waited 
 until the sounds were regular as before, then advanc- 
 ing his head cautiously, he waited for the proper time,
 
 and keeping the chimney between himself and the gar- 
 den, ran straight up the roof to the gable and 
 crouched quickly upon the other side. He was more 
 fortunate this time for the roof gave forth no sound. 
 
 Once beyond the protection of the gables he could 
 for the moment disregard the danger of the guard, for 
 his orders had been to watch but one window, and 
 Hammersley knew enough of the German character to 
 be sure that the soldier below would not leave that 
 side of the house. As he slid carefully down the roof 
 upon the other side, he saw that there were two dor- 
 mers, and for a moment could not think which of them 
 let into the room in which Doris was imprisoned. He 
 reached the ledge and paused. The shutters of both 
 windows were closed. Lindberg had told him this, 
 but he swore mildly to himself because he hadn't paid 
 closer attention to the Forester's instructions, for while 
 one of the rooms was Doris's, the other he knew was 
 to be occupied by John RLzzio. It was while he hesi- 
 tated that he heard a whisper at his left, and crawling 
 along the ledge, in a moment had reached the window. 
 
 "Is it you, Cyril?" he heard. 
 
 "Yes," he whispered. <f Let me in." 
 
 Lindberg had opened the shutter in the afternoon, 
 but it was still stubborn, and when Cyril put his 
 strength to Doris's, it creaked abominably. It was not 
 really a loud noise, but to the sensitive ears of the 
 fugitives it seemed as if discovery must be inevitable. 
 At last they managed to open it wide enough to admit 
 Cyril's long legs and his body speedily followed. In- 
 side the room they stood, their hands clasped, fearful 
 of discovery, listening for sounds without or within 
 which would tell them of the approach of the dreaded 
 Wentz. Nothing but the sighing of the wind in the 
 
 245
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 treetops and the patter of the rain. As hope re- 
 turned, Hammersley questioned quickly: 
 
 "You are ready to go?" 
 
 "Yes," she replied eagerly. 
 
 "The sheets?" 
 
 "Here. I have prepared." 
 
 It was dark and he could not see, but he followed 
 the sheet to its end with his hand and found that it 
 was fastened to the bedpost. How she had managed 
 to move the heavy bed across the room he did not 
 know, and it was unnecessary to question, for there it 
 was. He reassured himself as to the knot that she had 
 made and then fastened his own sheets to the other 
 end. 
 
 "Do you think you can manage it alone? It will 
 not hold us both." 
 
 "Try me," she whispered bravely. 
 
 "The rope will reach almost to the kitchen roof." 
 
 "Yes, it is just below. I could see the edge of it 
 through the shutter this afternoon." 
 
 He caught her in his arms and their lips met. 
 
 "I will go first. Then when the tension relaxes, you 
 follow." 
 
 She pressed his hand as he slid his feet out of the 
 window and paused crouching on the ledge listening. 
 Then he waved his hand and slowly went down. He 
 knew that the angle of the building quite hid him frorn^ 
 the garden path, and he slid down the improvised rope 
 as quickly as he could until his feet dangled in space. 
 He looked below him, but in the darkness the distance 
 was uncertain. Had Lindberg miscalculated? Or had 
 Doris used too much of the sheet at the upper end? 
 He let himself down until his hands groped the end 
 of the sheet while he felt for a landing with his toes. 
 
 246
 
 SUCCESS 
 
 He touched nothing, and still swayed and spun in the 
 air like an apple on a string at All Hallowe'en, a fine 
 mark for an automatic from any of the windows that 
 stared blankly at him from the second story. There 
 was nothing for it but to drop, stretching his toes 
 | down to meet the impact. Fortunately it was not far, 
 but he lost his balance and toppled sideways, catching 
 himself upon an arm and knee. Here again the wind 
 saved him from discovery, but he drew his weapon 
 and kept a look on the corner of the garden, mean- 
 while watching for Doris. 
 
 She came at once, slowly but fearlessly, and in a 
 moment he had her safely in his arms, drawing her 
 back near the bulk of the building to crouch and wait 
 and listen again. They did not dare to speak, but 
 Hammersley's blood was surging madly with hope. 
 If they had not been discovered now, the chances were 
 that some time would elapse, enough at least to en- 
 able the fugitives to get a good start of their pur- 
 suers. But the dangling sheet warned Hammersley 
 that they must move quickly. He peered over the 
 edge of the roof. A light was burning in the kitchen, 
 but whether the room was occupied or not, he could 
 not tell. He did not dare risk a sprained ankle by 
 jumping, but found that by lowering himself he could 
 easily reach the fuel box that stood near the kitchen 
 door. In a moment they were on the ground and 
 moving along in the shelter of the hedge toward the 
 hangar. 
 
 Hammersley exulted. It iras something to have 
 brought Doris away, but it was something more to 
 have circumvented von Stromberg. The bundled figure 
 of Lindberg, lying up there bleeding in the dark, shot 
 a pain through his heart, but in action, moving toward 
 
 247
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 the goal of his hopes, even Lindberg was put behind 
 him. He had no fear for the wound in Lindberg's 
 shoulder. The old man was as tough as a pine knot 
 and would survive the loss of blood. It was Lind- 
 berg's ordeal with von Stromberg that bothered him. 
 
 When they reached the shelter of the woods the ten- 
 sion relaxed. 
 
 "We're going to get off, Doris," he said joyously. 
 "I know every stick of these woods, and they can 
 never find us. But I'm afraid the strain has been too 
 much for you. How are you feeling?" 
 
 "Never better," she said bravely. "Which way 
 now?" 
 
 Hammersley had paused a moment to slip on his 
 shoes, and as he got to his feet, 
 
 "Follow me," he said. "If I go too fast for you, 
 let me know." 
 
 He cut into the woods and presently struck a path 
 which led to the left, and for a while they followed 
 this rapidly. Thanks to a fine physique and a vigor- 
 ous life out-of-doors, the girl was in good condition, 
 and though breathing hard upon the slopes, made no 
 murmur. Hammersley knew that he had little time to 
 spare, and Doris followed blindly, asking no questions. 
 She was aware from what Cyril had said in the after- 
 noon that his objective in coming to Germany was now 
 within reach, and she could only judge of its impor- 
 tance to England by the desperate chances he had 
 taken. When it was time that she should know he 
 would tell her. She judged that Cyril knew that she 
 had been tricked into betraying him, and she made 
 up her mind that, whatever happened now, she would 
 stay with him until the end. She owed him that. 
 
 After a while, when they had been moving for per- 
 248
 
 SUCCESS 
 
 haps twenty minutes, they reached an opening in the 
 trees where she could see gray patches of sky through 
 the branches overhead, and her feet emerging from 
 the dry leaves and moss felt a firmer contact. 
 
 "The Schondorf road," he said. "We can follow 
 it side by side. Are you tired?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 They went on more rapidly, while Hammersley ex- 
 plained : 
 
 "The documents I came to Germany for are to be 
 brought along this road tonight in an automobile. 
 The hour they are due to reach Blaufelden is eleven, 
 and if I know anything of the infallibility of the Ger- 
 man secret messenger, they will be here on time. It 
 is now after ten. I have an hour or less to make my; 
 preparations." 
 
 "What are you going to do?" she asked. 
 
 "Get them. First, I'm going to take you to a spot 
 where you will be as safe as if you were at home in 
 Ashwater Park." 
 
 "No," she said firmly, "I'm going with you." 
 
 "But that's impossible. I don't know what may 
 happen. My plans are of the vaguest " 
 
 "I will share them. No, you sha'n't refuse me. I 
 will follow you. I can help. I must. I would die 
 in those roads alone. Don't you understand?" 
 
 "But if I fail and they take you, you will be as 
 guilty as I. It's an act of war, Doris." 
 
 "Then all the more reason why I should be commit- 
 ted to it. They made war on me." 
 
 "But there will be danger. I can't let you take 
 the risk." 
 
 "I don't know how you are going to stop me," she 
 said defiantly. 
 
 17 249
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 He paused, then stopped and caught her by the 
 elbows, peering down into her eyes. Then he laughed. 
 
 "Mated!" he cried. "This is the greatest moment 
 of my life." 
 
 "And mine," her voice answered him. 
 
 Her lips met his in a quick caress, like those the 
 wives of the Spartans gave when they sent their men 
 to battle. 
 
 He caught her hand in his and they moved forward 
 more quickly. Along this path Death was riding 
 toward them, but they strode eagerly to meet it, to 
 defy it, to defeat it. Cyril planned rapidly, casting 
 anxious glances along the road behind them. Every 
 foot they traveled took them further from pursuers, 
 if pursuers there were. Every foot they traveled took 
 them nearer the advancing messenger. So that the 
 farther they went the longer would be the while before 
 they were overtaken, but the shorter the time for prep- 
 aration to stop the automobile. Murder was not in 
 Hammersley's line. They passed many places, diffi- 
 cult spots in the road where the machine must almost 
 stop and go into low gear to climb declivities, places 
 where projecting rocks jutted rough faces up to the 
 very ruts of the road. It would not be difficult to 
 kill with an automatic at a distance of two paces, but 
 Hammersley could not play the game that way. He 
 was a spy, if the laws of war called him so, but he 
 would not, even in this extremity, use the spy's weap- 
 ons. If the other man fought, it would be different. 
 The desperate nature of the undertaking was begin- 
 ning to come to him. Two men, perhaps three or even 
 four! And yet he must win. He must. Slowly but 
 surely a plan was forming and he made up his mind 
 to put it into practice.
 
 SUCCESS 
 
 "Not tired yet?" he asked. 
 
 "No. I could go on forever." 
 
 "Then listen. We are nearing the Thorwald. It 
 is just beyond here, less than half a mile away." 
 
 "The Thorwald?" 
 
 "It's a favorite place of mine, known only to Lind- 
 berg and Udo, a cave high up in the rocks, safe as a 
 church, unless Udo happens to hunt for us there." 
 
 "And will he?" 
 
 "I hope not. At the foot of the crags this road 
 runs. We must get there first. Can you run?" 
 
 "I'll try." 
 
 He gave her his hand again, and they settled into 
 a jog trot. She was breathing fast in a moment, but 
 she was game and did not falter, though her lungs 
 seemed to be bursting. But as they neared the spot, 
 Cyril slowed down to a walk again. 
 
 "At the foot of the glen there's a dry bed of a 
 stream full of rocks. There used to be a bridge here, 
 but it was washed away. It's an awkward spot, even 
 for a good motor. I'm going to make it worse." 
 
 He left her, dashing on ahead, while she followed, 
 and when she reached the stream she saw him drag- 
 ging one of the bridge timbers across the road. She 
 wanted to help, but he told her to watch, until he got 
 another and then another timber into place. And in 
 another moment it was evident that the barricade was 
 formidable enough to deter any machine from cross- 
 ing. And there was no way to go around, for upon 
 one side rose the crags and upon the other the gully 
 fell away into a dark pit filled with rocks and tangled 
 branches. 
 
 There was nothing for it now but to wait. And 
 yet it seemed a desperate thing to do. Weary and
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 blown as Doris was, it would have seemed better to 
 have gone on and on anything to put distance be- 
 tween Cyril and the death that surely awaited them 
 back there. It seemed impossible that so long a time 
 as this could have elapsed before the tell-tale rope 
 of sheets should have been discovered. Already she 
 was sure that Wentz and his men must be on the 
 way in a machine or on horses, perhaps which would 
 cover the distance they had traveled in less than a 
 quarter of the time. She thought that she heard the 
 sound of a machine in the distance and the voices of 
 men. She pleaded with him to go on, but he only 
 smiled at her. 
 
 "You must do what I say, Doris," he said, and then 
 paused, listening. "They're coming," he whispered. 
 
 She had heard the sound of a machine. "From 
 which direction?" she gasped. 
 
 "There," and he pointed across the gully. 
 
 "They'll be here in a moment. Listen to me! Walk 
 quickly to your right, across the road to that large 
 stone. Stop !" She obeyed wonderingly. "Now cross 
 the road again, using those rocks as stepping stones." 
 She did it, bewildered, pausing on a ledge of rocks 
 that formed a part of the crag. "Now follow the line 
 of the rocks into the bushes. Fifty feet from the 
 road, hidden among the shrubbery, you'll find a cleft 
 in the rocks. Climb it and you'll come out here," and 
 he pointed upward just above the road. "Wait for 
 me there. I'll come in a moment." 
 
 And as she hesitated, he caught her by the elbows 
 and shoved her along the ledge backwards. "Go ! Do 
 you hear? I'll have no refusal." 
 
 There was no denying the accent of command in his 
 yoice or the quick flash of his eye. Never until von
 
 SUCCESS 
 
 Stromberg had badgered her today had a man spoken 
 to her in this tone before. But she loved him for it, 
 rejoiced in his strength the primitive instinct of 
 woman to obey. 
 
 When she had gone, Hammersley quickly crossed 
 the stream and took a position behind a thick bush, 
 listening to the exhaust of the approaching machine, 
 but listening and looking, too, in the opposite direction 
 for sounds of his pursuers. A searchlight made fan- 
 tastic shapes among the leaves and long shadows sud- 
 denly shot out along the road. 
 
 Hammersley had drawn his automatic from his 
 pocket and was fingering it coolly. He put his fin- 
 gers over his eyes, so that the light would not mar 
 his familiarity with the darkness. He did not know; 
 how many men opposed him and did not seem to care. 
 The main thing now was to keep his eye undimmed and 
 his hand steady. The machine came, slowed down and 
 stopped while a guttural exclamation came from the 
 driver. The searchlight focused downward into the 
 rocks of the gully. Screening his eyes from its light 
 with a hand, Hammersley peered out at the occupants 
 of the car. There were two men better than three, 
 but not so good as one. The man at the wheel rose 
 and got down just beside him, moving forward to re- 
 move the obstacles. 
 
 Hammersley wasted no time. He leveled his auto- 
 matic at the broad back of the driver and his voice 
 rang sharply in German: 
 
 "I have come here for the dispatches intended for 
 Herr General von Stromberg. You will give them to 
 me at once." 
 
 The man who was just bending over toward the tim- 
 ber straightened quickly and turned, reaching for his 
 
 253
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 holster, but the man in the seat of the car, who wore 
 a military cap, was quicker, for there was a report, 
 and a bullet sang close to Hammersley's ear. 
 
 A stream of fire came from Hammersley's auto- 
 matic ; three shots in quick succession, and the man in 
 the car pitched forward in his seat and slid to the 
 floor. And by the time the other man had drawn his 
 pistol, Hammersley had leaped behind a tree and came 
 out of some bushes beyond. The chauffeur fired, but 
 not in Hammersley's direction. The continuous glare 
 of the light in their eyes had made their vision in the 
 darkness uncertain. 
 
 "Do you surrender?" shouted Hammersley. 
 
 The German's reply was to fire at him again and 
 miss. He still stood in the reflection of the headlight, 
 a bulky silhouette, which made too fair a mark, while 
 Hammersley stood in the shadows of the bushes. 
 Hammersley pitied him. 
 
 "Surrender!" he repeated. 
 
 The man was not a coward and rushed blindly 
 toward the voice, shooting again, too close for com- 
 fort. 
 
 "Well, then " Hammersley said, and fired again. 
 
 The man stumbled to his knees and then fell prone, 
 his fingers clutching among the leaves. The whole in- 
 cident had taken less than a minute, and a deathly 
 silence seemed to fall, following the reverberations of 
 the shots. Hammersley stood tensely, listening and 
 peering along the road toward Blaufelden. There was 
 a glow of light at a distance and he could now hear 
 the sound of another machine. Von Stromberg had 
 learned of his escape and with a perfect intuition was 
 coming here directly and fast. The sound of the shots 
 had been heard. There was no time to lose. Ham~ 
 
 254
 
 SUCCESS 
 
 mersley bent over the man on the ground and searched 
 his pockets rapidly. Gloves, matches, a spark plug, 
 tobacco, but no papers. The chauffeur, of course. 
 By main strength he lifted the dead weight of the 
 man in the car and carried him down into the glare of 
 the searchlight. It was a dangerous thing to do, for 
 the lights of the machine from Blaufelden were already 
 swinging through the treetrunks. But he worked 
 quickly and skillfully, tearing open the officer's gray 
 overcoat and searching his pockets. In the inside 
 pocket of his uniform he found them, a bulky pack- 
 age, and other papers. He read the superscription 
 quickly, "Sein Excellenz General Graf von Stromberg." 
 Then sprang aside out of the glare of the lights at 
 the very moment when the other machine came swing- 
 ing rapidly around the turn in the road. 
 
 "The papers are safe?" roared a voice which Ham- 
 mersley recognized. 
 
 "Ja," Hammersley replied in a rough tone. "A 
 man tried to stop me and I shot him." 
 
 "Ganz gut!" 
 
 "He is here," shouted Hammersley again. 
 
 All the while he had been moving out of the glare 
 of the searchlights, and as the men from the other car 
 tumbled out and came forward, he turned into the 
 darkness, and abandoning all caution, took to his heels 
 and ran at top speed in the opposite direction. 
 
 Behind him he heard shouts as his trick was discov- 
 ered, but he knew that in the matter of speed he had 
 nothing to fear afoot from any German at Winden- 
 berg. The thing that bothered him now was a way to 
 hide the marks of his footsteps, for in places the 
 mud was soft and he knew that in the morning 
 light they would follow him; so he picked his way 
 
 255
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 carefully, running at top speed for a mile at least, to 
 lead the pursuit away from the Thorwald and then 
 at the banks of a small stream paused a moment and 
 listened. He had eluded them. Then without hesi- 
 tation, though puffing fearfully from his exertions, he 
 stepped down into the cold waters of the stream and 
 waded up it, avoiding the ledges and making sure 
 that he left no mark behind him. As he climbed 
 higher up the mountain, he could see in the distance 
 the glow of the lights of the machines and when he 
 reached a mossy bank which would not betray him, 
 he clambered out of the water and turned, doubling 
 like a fox, upon his trail, turning back in the general 
 direction from which he had come. 
 
 Doris worried him. He could imagine her crouch- 
 ing there two hundred feet in the air just above the two 
 machines, half dead with fear of capture and terror 
 for him. Had she seen what had happened and un- 
 derstood it? Would she have the kind of silent en- 
 durance to crouch there and wait? He hurried on 
 into the maze of rocks and deep woods, finding at last a 
 deer trail that he knew. There were but two means 
 of ingress to the cave of the Thorwald, one by the 
 secret path in the bushes up the rocks which Doris 
 had taken, the other from the upper side which he 
 was now rapidly approaching. 
 
 He ran along the deer trail, reloading his auto- 
 matic as he went, his eyes peering ahead for fa- 
 miliar landmarks, cutting in at last to the left at a 
 great rock around which the deer trail led. He now 
 proceeded with great caution. Far below him he could 
 see the reflections of the lights of the two cars and 
 heard the voices of men. He went down a way toward 
 the wall of rocks, clambering over huge bowlders, haul- 
 
 256
 
 SUCCESS 
 
 ing himself here and there by the aid of tree limbs, 
 reaching at last the dry bed of the old stream which 
 down in the road had been of such assistance to him. 
 
 Now the wall of rock rose sheer before him. He 
 stole cautiously along its face, feeling with his hands 
 and peering upward. In a moment he found what he 
 was looking for, a small projecting ledge which he 
 mounted, and followed to his right for a way, then 
 mounting again by easy stages to a fissure wider than 
 his body which he entered and followed quickly. It 
 led downward it seemed into the bowels of the crag, 
 but came out suddenly into an open space, a kind of 
 amphitheater, with a ridge of rock upon one side, and 
 upon the other what appeared to be a solid wall. He 
 crossed this space quickly and peered over. 
 
 Below him the crag jutted out over the road and 
 upon it somewhere was Doris. He strained his gaze 
 downward but could not see her. What if they had 
 found her footsteps and followed? No, that was 
 hardly possible, for the ridge of rock began imme- 
 diately at the road, and thanks to his precautions, she 
 would leave no footprints. 
 
 Slowly he descended, choosing his footing with quick 
 deliberation, for the slightest sound, the dislodging 
 of a twig or a sliver of crumbled stone and the crag of 
 the Thorwald would become in a moment a hornet's 
 nest. Fortunately the back of the rock screened him 
 from the road, and unless von Stromberg had sent men 
 into the woods to left and right, there was no chance 
 of discovery. At last he reached the level and a dark 
 shadow rose at his very feet and silently clasped his 
 hand. He took her in his arms for a moment in de- 
 vout thankfulness. If the true moment of their mat- 
 ing had been back there in the road while danger 
 
 257
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 threatened them before and behind, this place of se- 
 curity was the beginning of its consummation. He did 
 not speak and only motioned her to sit while he. 
 crouched beside her, waiting. 
 
 Below in the road he heard the rasping voice of 
 His Excellenz, speaking in no gentle tones to the 
 wounded chauffeur of the messenger's machine, asking 
 question after question which were answered feebly 
 enough. After a while the men who had followed 
 Hammersley returned and made their reports the 
 dull boom of the voice of Wentz and the harsh crackle 
 of von Stromberg's in rage and mortification. 
 
 "He got away, Excellenz," said Wentz. "For a 
 moment only I saw him, and followed fast as I could, 
 but my legs are too short." 
 
 "Bah! You are an imbecile, Herr Hauptmann. 
 IA.nd the other men, are not their legs longer?" 
 
 "Yes, but Herr Hammersley has the legs of a deer. 
 They are following, but it is like hunting for a grain 
 of barley in a coal scuttle. He may have taken to 
 the woods anywhere." 
 
 "Ja but the Fraulein. She could not have run as 
 fast as he!" 
 
 "It is my opinion," said Wentz with some temerity, ' 
 "that they had a rendezvous somewhere beyond. He 
 has known these mountains since his boyhood." 
 
 "Esel! But she hasn't, and how should she find it 
 in the dark?" 
 
 "Perhaps, the matter being so important, he would 
 have deserted her." 
 
 "Quatsch! Find me the girl and I will find you 
 Hammersley." 
 
 Hammersley felt Doris's clasp tighten on his own. 
 
 "She cannot have gotten far away. Search for her, 
 258
 
 SUCCESS 
 
 schafskopf. Search the woods and rocks until morn- 
 ing. Take the other machine and follow his footsteps 
 until you see them no more. Then follow his trail 
 in the woods. Take the two Forsters with you. I will 
 go back to Blaufelden to send for more men and ques- 
 ; tion the guards who permitted his escape. Go!" 
 
 The fugitives sat silently listening to the sounds 
 below them, heard the orders to put the wounded 
 man and the dead messenger into the machine and 
 presently the commotion of departure as the machines 
 were backed away from the gully, turned, in available 
 spots, and then departed in opposite directions, Gen- 
 eral von Stromberg's at full speed, the other slowly, 
 while Captain Wentz walked on before, his shoulders 
 bent, trying to follow the signs of Hammersley's rub- 
 ber soles in the road. But it had begun to rain stead- 
 ily again and Hammersley was thankful, for it would 
 not be long before all marks of his footsteps would be 
 erased.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 THE CAVE ON THE THORWALD 
 
 SAFE?" he heard her whisper. 
 "Yes, for the present." 
 "You have what you came for?" 
 
 "I think so." 
 
 "And what shall we do now?" 
 
 "Sleep. You're dead beat. Come." 
 
 He rose and helped her to her feet, then after an- 
 other pause, turned toward the wall of rocks behind 
 them. 
 
 "Do you think you can make it? It's a difficult 
 climb." 
 
 "Yes. I've that much left in me. You lead the 
 way and I'll follow." Her teeth were chattering. 
 
 As he touched her sleeve he found it soaked witK 
 moisture. 
 
 "Poor child. You're nearly frozen." He had not 
 been conscious of the occasional spatter of rain, 
 for his leather jacket had kept him dry. "But 
 I'll have you warm and snug before you can say 
 knife." 
 
 And when she questioned, "A fire " he replied, 
 
 "Isn't that what one uses to get warm with?" 
 
 "But here tonight ?" 
 
 "Oh, don't bother. You'll see." 
 
 They were climbing up the face of the slippery 
 rocks, Hammersley pausing from time to time to let 
 her rest, pulling her from above when he reached the 
 
 260
 
 ledges, and at last they came out into the amphithea- 
 ter of bowlders from which he had descended. 
 
 She was almost too weary for comment and followed 
 blindly as he led her to the wall of the rock where he 
 seemed to disappear in its very face. She followed 
 him inside a dark opening and when they were well 
 within he relinquished her hand and struck a match. 
 A brief glimpse she had of a small chamber in the cliff 
 not twenty feet square when the match went out. He 
 struck another and shading it with his hand went for- 
 ward. She saw him find what he was loking for and in 
 a moment a candle, after faintly sputtering for a mo- 
 ment, sent forth a steady glow of light. 
 
 "Sit here on this stool. I'll have you right in a 
 jiffy." 
 
 She obeyed him and looked around her. At one side 
 was a bed of pine needles, at another a small table and 
 in the middle of the rocky floor the gray embers of 
 what had been a fire. 
 
 "A bit roughish, but not so bad?" 
 
 She nodded while he busied himself in building the 
 fire. There were dry leaves, twigs and logs in the 
 corner, and soon a blaze was leaping cheerfully up- 
 ward. And while she wondered at the sigws of occu- 
 pancy he answered her thought. 
 
 "It's Lindberg's. He comes here often. It was 
 here that he and I always slept when we went on hunt- 
 ing trips. You see there's a natural chimney over- 
 head in the rocks where the bally smoke goes out. 
 They might observe the smoke by day, but at night 
 we're quite safe. I've been all around the place when 
 the fire was goin' and there isn't a sign of it out- 
 side." 
 
 He helped her put her coat off and made her com- 
 261
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 fortable close to the fire, after which he quickly took 
 the package of papers out of his pocket and examined 
 them. The single papers were military orders of no 
 importance to one Lieutenant Orstmann, obviously the 
 dead messenger. Hammersley put them aside, break- 
 ing the seal of the heavy envelope and examining its 
 contents carefully. First a letter of instructions to 
 His Excellency von Stromberg, signed in the bold hand 
 of the Emperor of Germany himself. He showed her 
 the signature and explained its contents and all 
 thought of weariness went from her mind. 
 
 "It is it's what you came for?" 
 
 "Yes," he replied, smiling grimly. "I've got it." 
 
 "Is it it isn't so important that you can't tell 
 me?" she asked timidly. 
 
 He laughed, put his arm around her and held her 
 for a moment tenderly. She had endured where a man 
 might have flinched, and yet at this moment she was 
 all woman timid, weary unto death, but still curious. 
 It was the master impulse. . 
 
 "No," he smiled. "You've jolly well earned the right 
 to know. I'll tell you." 
 
 He was so big, so strong, so certain of himself that 
 she wondered how, for a moment even, she could have 
 thought him other than he was. With a sudden im- 
 pulse of pride and tenderness, she rose, put her arms 
 around his neck and bending his head down to hers 
 kissed him upon the lips. He caught her to him and 
 held her in his arms. 
 
 "O Cyril," she murmured, "that I could ever have 
 failed in my belief in you, that I could ever have 
 thought that you were false! Why didn't you tell me 
 the truth? I would have kept your secret." 
 
 "It was impossible, dear. It was too big a thing 
 262
 
 THE CAVE ON THE THORWALD 
 
 and I was sworn to silence. But since you found 
 out " 
 
 "Did you think me curious " she asked naively, 
 "because I read the cigarette papers?" 
 
 "Curious!" he laughed. "Well rather! The mis- 
 take I made was in tellin' you not to read them. If 
 j 
 
 "Don't laugh at me," she whispered. "I can't stand 
 that. The only retribution for what I did this after- 
 noon is a blow. If you struck me, Cyril, I should not 
 care." 
 
 "But I won't, you know, old girl. But I'm going to 
 kiss you again if you don't mind." 
 
 And he did, while a shadow darkened her eyes. "It 
 seems terrible to be happy, even in our moment of 
 security, with the shadow of death hanging so closely 
 
 over us. I know you had to kill him, Cyril, but " 
 
 She paused. 
 
 "It was either that or he would have killed me. As 
 it was, it was too jolly close a thing for comfort. I 
 gave the other man his chance, but he wouldn't take it. 
 Lucky he didn't, for I might have missed the papers." 
 
 She clung to him more closely. 
 
 "And if you had been killed?" she whispered. "I 
 saw it all. At first I thought you had fallen. O 
 Cyril, the agony of it! And then you came out from 
 behind the tree and I knew that you were unharmed. 
 I had seen a man die, as I had, there upon the rocks 
 at Ben-a-Chielt, but when the other one came at you 
 I wanted you to kill him. I wanted it. I prayed that 
 you would. It was murder in my heart. I can't 
 understand how I have changed. And I've always 
 thought death such a fearsome thing!" 
 
 She hid her face in his shoulder and clung to him,
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 trembling. She had passed through danger valiantly, 
 carelessly even, but now that for the moment danger 
 had passed, woman-like, she yielded to the reaction. 
 He kissed her gently. 
 
 "Sh child. Don't let it work on you. No bally 
 use. We're safe now." 
 
 "Yes safe for the present. That ought to be 
 enough for me. But if anything had happened to 
 you !" She shuddered. 
 
 "But it didn't " 
 
 "Oh, I'm thankful," she whispered. "Thankful for 
 that and for you the trouble I've passed through 
 the pain of my thoughts of you I'm thankful for 
 those too, because without them I never should have 
 known you the real you, Cyril. I sometimes think 
 that life deals too easily with most of us to bring out 
 the best that's in us. I never would have known you 
 in England, Cyril, doing the things you always did." 
 
 He smiled at her. 
 
 "I'm the same chap, though. Can't tell what a fel- 
 low will do when he has to." 
 
 "But you didn't have to. You might have gone to 
 France and sat in a trench. Instead of that you did 
 what was harder let them distrust you hold you in , 
 contempt keeping silent and cheerful, while you were 
 doing such splendid things for England." She paused 
 while she caressed him and said in a proud whisper, 
 "The Honorable Cyril!" 
 
 "Honorable!" he smiled. "You'd hardly get von 
 Stromberg to think that." 
 
 "That terrible old man!" she went on clinging to 
 him. "I can see his vulture face now. He would have 
 shot you tomorrow!" 
 
 "But we fooled him what? Poor Lindberg!" 
 264
 
 THE CAVE ON THE THORWALD 
 
 She questioned him and he told her of the devotion 
 of his old friend. 
 
 "And what will von Stromberg do to Lindberg?" 
 she asked anxiously. 
 
 "I don't know," he said slowly. "Nothin' perhaps, 
 unless Udo tells." He paused and looked into the fire. 
 "Wish I knew about Udo," he said thoughtfully. 
 "We were very good pals last year." 
 
 "But he wouldn't see you shot!" 
 
 "He couldn't do anythin'. I am betrayin' his coun- 
 try." 
 
 "But not your country, Cyril," she said. 
 
 "No, thank God. Not mine. I love Germany the 
 Germany of my mother and the men like Lindberg. 
 But the Germany of von Stromberg that's not Ger- 
 many to me." 
 
 "Do you think we will get away?" 
 
 "Yes," he said quickly. 
 
 She read the anxiety in his voice and knew that he 
 was thinking of her, and in that moment a new idea of 
 her duty came to her. 
 
 "You mean," she said quickly, "that you could get 
 away if it wasn't for me. O Cyril, I know. Don't try 
 to deceive me. You could disguise yourself and get 
 away to the Swiss border. It would not be difficult 
 for you. I am a weight around your neck which may 
 destroy you." 
 
 "Hush, child." 
 
 "No. I am not too stupid to see that. You ought 
 to be going now." She clung to his arms and looked 
 up into his face as her duty came more clearly to her, 
 while her voice trembled with earnestness. "I want 
 you to go, Cyril. Your life is valuable to England. 
 They are on a false scent down there. You could get 
 18 265
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 away in the darkness and by morning you can be miles 
 away. I'm not afraid. Tomorrow I can go and give 
 myself up. I am only a girl an American. They 
 will not dare to harm me. Don't smile. I am in deadly 
 earnest. You must go, Cyril now now ' 
 
 But he only patted her gently. 
 
 "You think that I am a child," she went on, "that 
 I cannot be trusted to get along alone. Haven't I 
 proved it to you that I am not afraid? Look at me, 
 Cyril. I am only a little tired now but tomorrow 
 I will go to von Stromberg and say, 'Here I am now 
 what can you do to me?' He may threaten and bluster 
 and rage, but that will not frighten me when you are 
 safe. What can he reply? What could he do? My 
 nation is not at war with his. He would not dare! O 
 Cyril, say that you'll go say that you'll go ' 
 
 She looked up into his face and saw that its expres- 
 ;sion had not changed. He was still smiling at her 
 softly while she felt the touch of his fingers gently 
 petting her. 
 
 "Oh you won't go you wont !" she cried, and then 
 without further warning burst into a passion of tears. 
 
 "Don't, Doris, for God's sake," he whispered. "Don't 
 break now. I need all your courage and your strength. 
 You've been so brave so strong. Keep up your 
 spirits, there's a dear. We'll pull through, don't you 
 worry." 
 
 "They'll take you if you stay here." 
 
 "No. They won't find us. I'm not afraid of that, 
 and there are water and biscuits here. We'll take 
 things easy for a while and then slip off. Do you 
 think I could go and leave you in the lurch? Pretty 
 sort of a Johnny I'd be to do a thing like that ! Not 
 for twenty Englands, Doris," he whispered, kissing 
 
 966
 
 THE CAVE ON THE THORWALD 
 
 her tenderly. "Not for twenty Englands, I wouldn't.' 5 
 His touch soothed her and she grew more quiet. 
 
 "Of of course you w-wouldn't," she murmured. 
 "But I w-wish you would." 
 
 Her hands met around his neck and he raised her 
 chin and kissed her on the mouth. It was a kiss of 
 plighted troth, of tenderness, faith and the exalted 
 passion that comes with tears. 
 
 "Mated?" he whispered. 
 
 "Yes yes," she murmured faintly. 
 
 They did not move for a long moment when Doris 
 slowly disengaged her arms from around his neck 
 and moved slightly away. Her hair had fallen and 
 hung in golden disorder about her shoulders. She put 
 up her arm, trying to catch the escaping pins, and 
 then she smiled at him, dimpling adorably. 
 
 "Come," he said gently. "You must get to bed. 
 Your coat is nearly dry, but I'll cover you with my 
 jacket. You must sleep, too. No shammin', you know* 
 Can't tell what may happen tomorrow." 
 
 "I'll try," she murmured obediently, while he led her 
 to the couch of boughs and made her lie on it. But 
 as he knelt beside her, covering her with his jacket, 
 she caught his hands and would not relinquish them. 
 He raised hers to his lips and kissed them again and 
 again: small, muscular hands they were, but now very 
 brown and dirty. "Are you comfortable? Sorry I 
 haven't a tub." 
 
 She was silent a moment and then straightened and 
 asked him: 
 
 "You promised to tell me about the papers. Won't 
 you?" 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 "Not now. It must be nearly morning.'* 
 267
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "Yes, now. I'm not tired now. I will sleep after- 
 wards. I like to hear your voice, Cyril. Perhaps it 
 will soothe me to sleep." 
 
 "Are you sure?" he asked doubtfully and she 
 nodded. 
 
 He saw that she was still nervous and wakeful and 
 sank beside her couch, taking her hand in his. 
 
 "It is really quite interestin'," he began slowly. 
 "Three years ago, at the invitation of the Emperor of 
 Germany, when Europe was at peace and there was no 
 cloud upon the horizon bigger than a chap's hand, 
 there met in a shootin' lodge near Schondorf, not ten 
 miles from here, six men. It was a secret conference, 
 arranged by the Emperor of Germany through His 
 Excellency Graf von Stromberg. The six men were 
 His Highness Prince von Waldheim, at one time Ger- 
 many's ambassador to France; Admiral von Franken- 
 hausen, head and front of the Imperial German Navy; 
 General von Sandersdorf, the brains of the German 
 General Staff; His Excellency Moritz von Komarom, 
 minister of war of the Austrian Empire; Viscount 
 Melborne, English Secretary of State for Foreign 
 Affairs; and Harlow-Gorden, of the British Ad- 
 miralty." 
 
 She was listening avidly, wide-eyed, the array of 
 well-known names telling her as nothing else could 
 have done the importance of the conference. 
 
 "This meetin' was a secret," he went on. "These 
 men all traveled incognito, without servants, and were 
 met by an agent of General von Stromberg at Schon- 
 dorf and conducted in automobiles to the huntin' lodge 
 I have spoken of. These men remained there for two 
 days and two nights and then went home. But while 
 they were there they were makin' new history for 
 
 268
 
 THE CAVE ON THE THORWALD 
 
 Europe." He paused to fill his pipe but her curiosity 
 could not be restrained. 
 
 "And what were they doing there, Cyril? I can't 
 understand." 
 
 Hammersley got up and held his pipe to the candle, 
 for matches were scarce, and then, with maddening 
 calmness, sat beside her again. 
 
 "That secret meetin' of these chaps had to do with 
 nothin' less than the ruin of France " 
 
 "France!" she cried. "England had nothing 
 against France and now she is her ally." 
 
 "Three years ago the political conditions were dif- 
 ferent," he answered. "Those representatives of Eng- 
 land came and sat with representatives of Germany 
 and Austria while they plotted the destruction of 
 France." 
 
 "But how do you know this, Cyril? I can't under- 
 stand." 
 
 "No more do I, but it's a fact. Let me go on. At 
 the table in the lodge where this conference was held, 
 Viscount Melborne made notes of what was goin' on, 
 includin' the combinations of land and naval forces 
 that could be made against France and Russia, and 
 the plans to break the Russian Federation in the Bal- 
 kans. When the meetin' was over all the scraps of 
 paper these chaps had scribbled on were destroyed by 
 fire before the eyes of the men who had made 'em, 
 except those of Viscount Melborne, who put 'em in 
 his pocket, and with them a pencil copy of this secret 
 treaty in his own handwriting. The original copy of 
 the treaty was entrusted to Harlow-Gorden, who put 
 it in his dispatch-box. It was not until the next day 
 when the Englishmen, in the train on the way to Paris, 
 discovered that Viscount Melborne's private papers 
 
 269
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 were missin'. Jolly fine mess what? They got off at 
 the next stop, went back to Schondorf and looked for 
 the papers, but neither there nor at the lodge was 
 there hair or hide of 'em. So they went back to Eng- 
 land hopin' that by some fortunate accident the papers 
 had been destroyed." 
 
 "And these " asked the girl, "are they?" 
 
 He nodded. "To make the story short, I found out 
 where they had gone. My flights to Germany have 
 been made for this purpose. Don't you see? The 
 papers came into the hands of the Emperor of Ger- 
 many and he was plannin' to have 'em sent to the 
 President of the French Republic England's ally. It 
 wouldn't do, you know, to have such papers at such a 
 time fall into the hands of France. Hardly a credit 
 to English diplomacy. What? Might even result in 
 a new entente." 
 
 "But where were the papers in the meanwhile?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "That is what took me so bally long to find out. 
 After many hunts away from Windenberg at night, I 
 traced 'em to a Socialist by the name of Gottschalk 
 at Schondorf, who had received 'em from a pensioner 
 of the Imperial Forest Service, one of the attendants 
 at the huntin' lodge where the conference was held. 
 Whether he found 'em or stole 'em I don't know, but 
 I frightened him and he confessed,. I was on the very 
 point of stealing 'em from Gottschalk when I found 
 out that he had been writin' to the Wilhelmstrasse, and 
 when I tried to get 'em they were gone. If I'd got 'em 
 then, you would not be here, Doris, and I 
 
 "But how did you learn what the Wilhelmstrasse 
 proposed to do with them?" 
 
 "Oh, that was quite clear. The English Foreign 
 270
 
 THE CAVE ON THE THORWALD 
 
 Office has been badly frightened and has used every 
 effort with its secret agents in Berlin to get that 
 information. It reached London the other day. And 
 just before I left Scotland I knew the job was to be 
 given to General von Stromberg. The rest was Kismet 
 the fortune of war a jolly good piece of luck! 
 Lindberg overheard through the microphone von 
 Stromberg givin' instructions to Wentz so that Hi* 
 Excellency's own weapons were turned against him. 
 I was goin' to waylay Wentz on the way to France, 
 but circumstances prevented " 
 
 "It was I, Cyril," she broke in pleadingly. "I didn't 
 know. I betrayed you." 
 
 "A trick," he laughed, "invented in the Rameses 
 family but still useful." 
 
 "He frightened me," she stammered. "I believed 
 the message signed 'Maxwell' genuine." 
 
 "Not Maxwell," he said gravely, "for Maxwell a 
 sore spot since the war began in the side of the War 
 Office Maxwell is dead." 
 
 "You ?" she exclaimed fearfully. 
 
 "Yes," he replied. "I told and they caught him. I 
 couldn't do so before. It's war, Doris. It is a fair 
 game. I ask no favors nor do I give any." 
 
 She was silent a moment looking into the fire. 
 
 "Yes, I understand a terrible game with odds 
 
 against " And then, after a pause, "You say that 
 
 we will get away. Won't you tell me your plan?" 
 
 He rose with a confident laugh. 
 
 "Yes, I have a plan, but I'rn not going to tell it now. 
 You are going to sleep." 
 
 She laughed wearily and sat up. 
 
 "And you? Where will you sleep?" 
 
 "By the fire. I've got some thinkin' to do. I'm not 
 271
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 sleepy. I had eight hours last night. I'm going to 
 watch." 
 
 He bent over her and gently made her lie down. 
 *'I will talk to you no more. You must go to sleep." 
 
 She sighed and stretched herself out while he cov- 
 ered her with his coat. Then he put a fresh log on 
 the fire and sat beside her again. In a moment he 
 heard her voice. 
 
 "I hope you don't mind my telling you, Cyril, that 
 I love you a great deal." 
 
 "Not in the least," he whispered. "I wouldn't mind 
 listenin' while you said it all night. But 
 
 "There. You're going to insist on my sleeping 
 again !" 
 
 "Won't you?" 
 
 "I don't seem to feel as if I could ever sleep again. 
 You're so cool, so calm, Cyril. How can you be?" 
 
 "No bally use gettin' excited. Here we are snug as 
 two bugs in a rug. We'll slip through them some 
 way." 
 
 "But where will we go?" 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 "I have a notion of goin' to England." His kind 
 of quiet humor always put her on her mettle. 
 
 "To England ?" She started up. 
 
 "There won't be much chance of your doin' any- 
 thin' tomorrow if you don't get your sleep," he in- 
 sisted gently. "Do what I ask, Doris. Sleep you 
 must." 
 
 "I'll try. Good night, Cyril." 
 
 "Good night." He kissed her on the forehead and 
 drew his jacket over her again, then sat beside her, 
 her hand in his, watching. Gradually her nerves grew 
 quiet and weariness mastered her. He waited until 
 
 272
 
 THE CAVE ON THE THORWALD 
 
 her breathing indicated sleep, when he carefully relin- 
 quished her hand and moved to the fire, where he care- 
 fully studied the papers by the light of his candle, 
 after which he slipped them into the pocket of his 
 trousers and moved softly across the cave into a cor- 
 ner, where he opened the lid of a tin box and examined 
 its contents, taking out a fresh candle to replace the 
 other one, which was on the point of expiring. 
 
 Then he filled his pipe with great deliberateness and, 
 returning to the stool by the fire, crossed his knees and 
 bent forward, gazing into the blaze, his brows tangled 
 in deep thought. He had succeeded in getting what 
 he came for. So far, the secret of the meeting in the 
 shooting lodge was safe. But for how long? By this 
 time a description of the two of them had, of course, 
 been telegraphed to every village and military station 
 in Germany. That wouldn't do at all. Alone it might 
 be managed, with a German officer's uniform and Herr 
 Lieutenant Orstmann's military orders, but with Doris 
 it wasn't to be thought of. 
 
 The other alternative appealed to him more 
 strongly. He had matched his wits against von Strom- 
 berg's so far and had won, and success made him hope- 
 ful. Where carefulness failed, audacity sometimes 
 succeeded. The more he thought of his plan, the 
 deeper became his conviction that it was the only one 
 possible under the circumstances. There was con- 
 tinued danger for the papers and he deliberated for a 
 long while upon the wisdom of destroying them at 
 once, finally rejecting that idea except as a last alter- 
 native. His word that he had destroyed them would 
 perhaps be sufficient to ease the minds of the gentlemen 
 at the Foreign Office, but there were certain memo- 
 randa about the promises of Germany to England 
 
 273
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 signed with the initials of Prince von Waldheim which 
 should at all costs be saved. But aside from this 
 consideration, Hammersley, having carried his affairs 
 thus far successfully, had a pride in finishing it as he 
 had planned. It could be done he would do it. 
 
 He got up and put another log on the fire and 
 then stretched himself out at full length upon the 
 rocks, gazing into the flame. In the corner where the 
 bed was he heard the steady breathing of the girl. 
 What a trump she was What a tr 
 
 He nodded and then dozed. Troubled visions flitted 
 across his mind. Once he thought he heard the sound 
 of a footstep on the rocks and started up. It was 
 broad daylight. He listened for a while and then 
 slowly sank back and slept again. How long he did 
 not know, for something awakened him and he sat up, 
 reaching instinctively for the holster lying at his side, 
 to look straight into the muzzle of an automatic, be- 
 hind which was the handsome blond head of Udo von 
 Winden.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE CAVERN 
 
 UDO loomed against the light and the uniform he 
 wore seemed to give the projecting weapon 
 a new significance. He was not Udo, the 
 kinsman and companion who had so often shared this 
 refuge with Hammersley in the hunting days. He 
 was Germany. Hammersley could never remember the 
 time when the muzzle of a weapon had seemed so large. 
 It was much better to sit without moving, and Udo's 
 quick instructions were not wasted. 
 
 "Don't move, Cyril," he said coolly in German. "Up 
 with your hands ! So. Now get up, leaving your belt 
 where it is, and sit on the stool yonder. Quickly! I 
 will shoot to kill." 
 
 Hammersley read in his expression a determination 
 to put the threat into practice and, watching nar- 
 rowly, silently obeyed. Von Winden, still covering 
 him carefully, picked up the belt and transferred 
 Lindberg's pistol to his own holster. He was a dead 
 shot with any firearm, as Hammersley knew, and his 
 own chances at three paces even in a rush were small. 
 It was decidedly a case for discretion. 
 
 "I suppose there's nothing to be said," Hammersley 
 muttered. "You outguessed me, Udo." And then, to 
 gain a moment of time, "I thought that your memory 
 might be quite good enough to forget the Thorwald." 
 Von Winden frowned down the barrel of the automatic. 
 
 "It is too much to expect even from me," he said 
 275
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 crisply. "I am your kinsman but I am first of all a 
 German. And not even for you will I be a traitor." 
 
 "NatiirUch!" smiled Cyril. 
 
 Udo von Winden's look was grave, his voice sober, 
 and the muzzle of his automatic did not waver. 
 
 "I have already had a bad memory, my cousin. 
 This afternoon I forgot that Lindberg, who served 
 your meals, was a good friend of yours and mine and 
 that he might be counted on to help you out of your 
 difficulties. I also forgot that there was such a place 
 as the Cave of the Thorwald until I learned from Ex- 
 cellenz last night, the price Germany was to pay for 
 my indifference. If you had failed to capture the 
 documents of His Majesty, I might have remained 
 silent. As you took them, there remained nothing but 
 to act. I came here, for I knew it would be the one 
 place where I should find you." Hammersley bent his 
 head. "I understand." And then quickly, "Would 
 you mind telling me if you have spoken if you have 
 told what Lindberg ?" 
 
 "No," von Winden broke in, "I have told nothing. 
 Lindberg is safe. I have come here alone 
 
 Hammersley gave a gasp of relief and leaned for- 
 ward, peering into the fire. 
 
 "I came for one purpose, Cyril," Udo went on 
 quietly. "I have no personal desire for your death, 
 but I would kill you as you sit rather than see Ger- 
 many suffer the loss of the documents in your posses- 
 sion. I came for them and I intend that you shall 
 give them to me." 
 
 Hammersley looked up into his cousin's face and 
 their eyes met. Von Winden's tone was cool and his 
 manner as calm as on the days last year when they 
 were hunting together, but Hammersley knew that 
 
 276
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE CAVERN 
 
 when Udo von Winden was most calm he was also most 
 dangerous. So he slowly reached into the pocket of 
 his trousers and handed his cousin the papers he had 
 taken from the German messenger. 
 
 "Danke," said Udo, backing to the light of the en- 
 trance of the cave to examine them. "You are sure 
 they are all here?" 
 
 "My word on it, Udo," said Hammersley frankly. 
 He watched his cousin examine the documents and 
 heard him give an exclamation of satisfaction, but 
 Hammersley saw that his eyes neglected no detail of 
 the cavern and was aware that the muzzle of the 
 weapon in Udo's hand still bore directly upon him. 
 In the shadows Hammersley saw the face of Doris, 
 who was sitting up, pallid and dark-eyed as though 
 awakened from one nightmare into another. As Udo 
 saw her the muzzle of his weapon wavered and went 
 out of alignment, but Hammersley did not move or 
 even appear to notice the girl. 
 
 There was a note of embarrassment in the German's 
 officer's voice as he spoke again. 
 
 "I am sorry, my cousin, that your father's blood 
 ' called you to be false to Germany. You had been sus- 
 pected by Excellenz, but I would have sworn that he 
 was mistaken. You owe me nothing, of course, 
 but " 
 
 "It's war, Udo," said Hammersley quietly. "You 
 will remember that I did not seek duty in the Imperial 
 Secret Service. It was the Herr General who thought 
 it valuable to use our kinship for his own purposes." 
 
 Udo shrugged. "Yes, I know," he said quietly. 
 "You have done your duty but you must now be 
 aware of the fact that you can ask no favors of 
 me." 
 
 277
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "I don't. I am in your power. Shoot me if you 
 like." 
 
 Udo smiled. 
 
 "I can hardly be expected to do that. I do not love 
 you now, my cousin. I cannot love anyone who is false 
 to my country, but I cannot forget that once, not a 
 year ago, we were brothers. No, I cannot shoot you, 
 Cyril, though perhaps that would be a better death 
 than that other yonder." 
 
 Hammersley shrugged. "It is the fortune of war. 
 From your point of view I deserve it. I can only thank 
 you again, for myself and for Miss Mather, for your 
 generosity." 
 
 A sound from the girl and Udo acknowledged her 
 presence by a bow. 
 
 "Under other circumstances," he said with stiff po- 
 liteness, "I should be glad to extend the hospitalities 
 of Winden Schloss. But, of course, as Miss Mather 
 can see, my mother and sisters are away and I 
 
 "Of course, Graf von Winden, it is understood," 
 she said haltingly in German. 
 
 "I can do nothing, Fraulein. I am powerless at 
 the orders of General von Stromberg, who arranges 
 the coming and the going of all at Windenberg." i 
 
 "The coming, Udo," said Hammersley dryly. "Not 
 the going." 
 
 "I am sorry, I have done what I could. You have 
 done well to give me the papers. I shall now go back 
 to Blaufelden and return them to Excellenz." 
 
 Hammersley started up. 
 
 "You mean that you will leave us here?" 
 
 "Natiirlich. I do not wish to see you killed against 
 the kitchen wall. It is not the death for the blood of 
 von Eppingen. Even if you are shot while escaping 
 
 278
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE CAVERN 
 
 it would be better." He shrugged. "My position is 
 this. You can do Germany no further harm. I shall 
 tell a likely story. I have the papers they are what 
 I came for. If you had not given them to me I would 
 have killed you, but now I shall go away alone as I 
 J came." 
 
 "Good old Udo!" said Hammersley impulsively, tak- 
 ing a pace toward him, his hand outstretched. 
 
 But von Winden's automatic came quickly into line 
 and Hammersley halted. 
 
 "One moment, my cousin," said von Winden coolly. 
 "I am quite willing to accept your expressions of 
 gratitude from a distance. I may not wish to see you 
 killed by others, and I would regret the necessity of 
 killing you myself. I shall consider you my prisoner 
 until I go. After that" and he shrugged expres- 
 sively "you can go where you like." 
 
 Hammersley folded his arms and frowned. 
 
 "Where I like!" he muttered. "With every village 
 in Hesse-Nassau on the lookout for me." There was 
 a pause, after which von Winden spoke with quiet 
 earnestness. "Unfortunately I may not help you fur- 
 ther. Since there is food, to wait here is safer. Alone, 
 traveling by night, a man might reach Basel safely. 
 As for the Fraulein, if she will return to Blaufelden 
 and give herself up, imprisonment for a time is per- 
 haps the worst that she need fear." 
 
 Doris had risen, the white light from the door of the 
 cavern searching her face pitilessly. 
 
 "It is what I would do," she said haltingly. "What 
 I have pleaded with him to let me do. Cyril," she im- 
 plored in English, "you must let me." 
 
 "I will think about it," he muttered. "You are 
 sure that no harm will come to her?" The muzzle of 
 
 279
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 the automatic had wavered out of line again and 
 Hammersley was carefully measuring with his eye the 
 distance that separated him from his cousin. 
 
 "The bark of Excellent is much worse than his bite. 
 He will bluster and storm. But eventually he will re- 
 turn Miss Mather to her own people." 
 
 Hammersley was shaking his head in indecision. 
 
 "I am not so sure that I agree with you about the 
 bite of Excellenz. I shall think of what I will do. 
 I'm sure of one thing, Udo," he said with sincerity, 
 "that I am deeply grateful for what you have done. 
 The war has made us enemies, and you have now pre- 
 vented the success of my great venture. But I bear 
 you no illwill. The debt is still mine on account of 
 your silence, back there a debt made deeper by the 
 presence of Fraulein Mather." He paused to give his 
 words effect. "I had not told you, Udo, for at Winden- 
 burg one has no time to think of the gentler things of 
 life. But just before the war broke out Fraulein 
 Mather had promised me to become my wife." 
 
 Hammersley watched von Winden as he turned to- 
 ward Doris with a smile, bowing deeply, his sense of 
 the situation lost for a second in the obligations of 
 civility, as he murmured a phrase of congratulations. 
 "I am much honored by your confidences," he said for- 
 mally, "and I deeply regret ' ; 
 
 He got no further, for Hammersley had sprung in 
 suddenly toward him, risking Udo's shot, which was 
 fired quickly, without aim. 
 
 A furious struggle followed. Hammersley caught 
 at von Winden's wrist and his weight bore him back 
 against the rock, while both of them fought for the 
 possession of the weapon. The German officer was 
 smaller than his cousin but his wrists were good and 
 
 280
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE CAVERN 
 
 he was quicker than Hammersley. They bore only 
 friendship for each other but the incentive of each 
 was greater even than hatred could have been. They 
 struggled in silence, the thought of the possession of 
 the papers uppermost in the minds of both. The 
 struggle was not that of kinsman against kinsman, but 
 of England against Germany. Realizing the des- 
 perateness of Hammersley's attack and the purpose of 
 it, von Winden knew that a victory for Hammersley 
 meant the loss of the papers and so he was bent on 
 killing his cousin if he could, Hammersley on pre- 
 venting him from doing so. They swayed from side 
 to side, breathing hard, while Doris crouched against 
 the side of the cavern, dumb with terror. Twice she 
 saw the weapon in the German officer's hand point 
 downward toward Cyril's back and then, before it 
 could be used, saw Cyril's arm quickly push it upward. 
 She knew that she was in danger, but she did not know 
 what to do. At one moment von Winden seemed to 
 have the advantage and in another Cyril. Udo's back 
 was against the wall and one of Cyril's arms was 
 around him, while their legs were intertwined as each 
 tried to get the other off his balance. Suddenly with 
 an effort Hammersley managed to wrench the pistol 
 from von Winden's hand and he tossed it into the cor- 
 ner of the cavern. 
 
 Von Winden had every ethical right to kill Ham- 
 mersley if he could, but after what his cousin had done 
 for him, Hammersley could not kill Udo. That was 
 impossible. He must succeed without that. This gen- 
 erosity nearly proved fatal to him for the German 
 managed to reach Hammersley's automatic in his own 
 holster and had almost disengaged it when Hammers- 
 ley caught his hand again, and the struggle was re- 
 19 281
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 newed. But Doris, whose senses and initiative had 
 slowly returned to her, now crept around the walls of 
 the cave and when von Winden's outstretched hand 
 came within her reach she seized his forearm in both 
 of her hands and clung to it desperately, keeping the 
 muzzle pointed away from Cyril. She was swayed to 
 and fro with the struggling men, who finally toppled 
 sideways and fell to the floor, dragging her with them, 
 but von Winden's grasp of the weapon, never quite 
 secure, was loosened and, as they dropped, it went 
 flying under the table. 
 
 The fight was soon out of the German, for Ham- 
 mersley's weight had fallen on him heavily, and in a 
 moment the officer was flat on his back and Hammersley 
 was sitting on him. Doris, who had meanwhile picked 
 up the pistol, now heard Hammersley gasping jerkily. 
 
 "Quick, Doris something to tie with your stay- 
 strings !" 
 
 She understood and disappeared outside the cavern, 
 returning presently with the bonds, helping Cyril while 
 he made the wrists and ankles of von Winden fast. 
 
 "I might have killed you but I didn't," Hammers- 
 ley was gasping. "You saw that, Udo, didn't you?" 
 
 "You needn't make apologies. I would have killed 
 you. I tried to. It's too bad too bad," he panted. 
 
 "I'm sorry," Hammersley repeated. "Those papers 
 they're England's, Udo. They're my property. I've 
 got to take them." 
 
 And without further words he put his hand inside 
 the breast of the officer's coat and took the papers 
 out. 
 
 "I wish it were anybody but you," he said. 
 
 "I don't think you can get away with them." 
 
 "I'm going to try." 
 
 282
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE CAVERN 
 
 "I'll prevent you if I can." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "I'll show you." And with the remnants of his 
 breath he shouted lustily for help. Hammersley threw 
 him back, none too gently, and clapped a handkerchief 
 in his mouth, while he directed Doris to tear her under- 
 skirt and make bandages for a gag. They worked 
 quickly and in a moment the German officer was silent 
 and helpless. Then for a long moment Hammersley 
 sat by the prostrate man, slowly recovering his breath. 
 Doris, ash-gray with fear, crouched beside him, obe- 
 dient to his look and action. At last with a laugh he 
 got up. 
 
 "Close thing, that !" he said. "My word ! He nearly 
 got me." And then with a look at the prostrate man, 
 "Poor old Udo!" 
 
 In a moment, with a word to Doris, he went outside 
 the cave and listened intently. He peered cautiously 
 over the ridge of rocks. The road was deserted. The 
 sound of the shot, while it had seemed deafening, would 
 have been muffled at the entrance of the cavern and 
 could not have been heard from a distance. And when 
 Hammersley returned, he reassured Doris as to the 
 immediate danger of discovery. 
 
 "There is no hurry, Doris. I must think," he said, 
 filling his pipe. He stood upright for a while, puffing 
 rapidly, peering down at the captive, his expression 
 struggling between a frown and a smile. Herr Graf 
 Udo von Winden looked so very much like a mummy ! 
 The eyes of his cousin, the only visible part of his face, 
 followed Hammersley intently. 
 
 "I could have done for you, Udo," Hammersley re- 
 peated. "I want to be sure that you understand that." 
 
 Von Winden's head moved ever so slightly. Doris 
 283
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 had sunk upon the stool, her face buried in her hands. 
 
 "Oh, it's cruel!" she murmured. "Let him go, 
 Cyril." 
 
 "Hardly," said Hammersley coolly. "He'd raise a 
 rumpus. Wouldn't you, Udo?" 
 
 The officer's head did not move. 
 
 "You see?" said Hammersley. "But I'm going to 
 make him as comfortable as possible." And taking 
 him by the armpits he dragged his cousin over to the 
 corner and laid him gently on the bed of balsam, and 
 then stood beside the bed looking down at him thought- 
 fully, addressing him impersonally in English, as 
 though thinking aloud. 
 
 "What's to become of you, when we go, old chap 
 that's what's bothering me now." 
 
 The German's shoulders moved slightly. 
 
 "Oh, that's all very well, but I can't leave you up 
 here to rot, my cousin. No one knows the way to the 
 Crag of the Thorwald. You might be here a thousand 
 years if Lindberg shouldn't come." 
 
 Von Winden made no sign. It was obvious that he 
 had no further intention of helping in the solution of 
 .the difficulty. 
 
 "Let me stay here with him, Cyril," Doris was 
 pleading again. "It can do me no harm, and when you 
 are well on your way, I will release him and go back 
 to Blaufelden." 
 
 "I can't take that chance. You're going with me." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 To England." 
 
 "But how?" 
 
 "Leave that to me. At present we must have break- 
 fast. Do you know it's almost ten o'clock?" 
 
 Bewildered, she watched him go to the large tin 
 284
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE CAVERN 
 
 box in the corner of the cavern, from which he brought 
 forth some dry salt biscuit and several pieces of choco- 
 late. 
 
 "It isn't much, but it's the best I can do. There'** 
 tea, too, but I don't dare light the fire." 
 
 She ate, slowly at first, for the food seemed to choke 
 her, but she recalled the fact that except for two pieces 
 of toast and the chocolate of von Stromberg she had 
 eaten nothing since yesterday morning. Cyril, who 
 never seemed at a loss for anything, produced a metal 
 pitcher and going outside the cave for a moment 
 returned with it full of water. 
 
 "Lindberg's," he said in reply to her question. "His 
 food, too. Good old Lindberg." 
 
 He frowned and then went over to the prisoner. 
 
 "You needn't tell me if you don't care to, Udo, but 
 I'd like to know how Lindberg is. Will you answer 
 me?" 
 
 Von Winden nodded. 
 
 "He is able to be about?" 
 
 He nodded again. 
 
 "Did His Excellency suspect?" 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 "Thank God. Then Lindberg is at liberty?" 
 
 Udo replied in the affirmative. 
 
 Hammersley gave a gasp of relief. 
 
 "That is well. I need not worry. He will come 
 and release you." 
 
 Von Winden only frowned. 
 
 "Listen, Udo," went on Hammersley quickly,. 
 ""Fraulein Mather and I are going down from here, 
 leaving you alone. It can't be helped. You've stum- 
 bled up here and you've got to take your chance. In 
 time you may wear the strings through against a. 
 
 285
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 rock. If you don't return to Blaufelden by tomorrow, 
 Lindberg will find you." 
 
 "But suppose anything happened to Lindberg," 
 Doris was whipering. "Ah, Cyril, it would be terrible 
 to leave him here. I should dream of it every night 
 of my life." 
 
 Udo's eyes smiled at her. 
 
 "There is little danger. Graf von Winden is not a 
 man to be so easily beaten. He will get away by to- 
 night. But in the meanwhile we will have gone far 
 enough to be out of his reach." 
 
 "Where are we going?" 
 
 "To England, child in the Yellow Dove," he 
 laughed. 
 
 Doris started away from him, her eyes suddenly 
 brilliant with excitement, and the prisoner, who had 
 lain without movement, showed sudden signs of activ- 
 ity, his eyes frowning and his head wagging in anxiety. 
 
 "He wants to speak," said Doris. 
 
 Hammersley bent over his cousin. 
 
 "Will you promise not to shout?" 
 
 Von Winden nodded quickly. So Hammersley untied 
 the bandages that held the handkerchief in the prison- 
 er's mouth and helped him to a sitting posture. 
 
 "You must not go," he stammered quickly in Ger- 
 man. "It is impossible. You will fail. I warn you." 
 
 "Why do you think so?" 
 
 "The machines are guarded, and the spark-plugs of 
 your Taube have been removed and hidden." 
 
 "H'm," said Hammersley thoughtfully. "Excel- 
 lenz neglects nothing." 
 
 "You would go to your death." 
 
 "Perhaps. Thanks for the warning," said Hammers- 
 ley bluntly. "I'm going just the same." 
 
 286
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE CAVERN 
 
 Von Winden looked at him in amazement. "You do 
 not believe me?" he asked. "It is the truth, I tell 
 you." 
 
 "I shall find a way." 
 
 "But there is no way, You think that I am trying 
 to persuade you to escape by the mountains so that 
 you may be captured with the papers?" 
 
 "Yes. I could not escape that way now. You 
 know it." 
 
 "Perhaps not, but what you plan is insane." 
 
 "Fortune favors the fool. I've made up my mind." 
 
 "Then you deserve to be shot," said Udo. "In the 
 forest at least you would have a chance Ach /" He 
 gave a guttural exclamation and then: "Bind me and 
 leave me then quickly. It's good-by." 
 
 "Good-by, Udo," said Hammersley with a smile. 
 "We'll meet again, when Hesse-Nassau is an EnglisK 
 province." 
 
 "Bah, Cyril," said von Winden. "I have always 
 said that you were a fool." 
 
 Hammersley replaced the gag and bound it into 
 place with great care, smiling the while. Then he re- 
 moved the belt which contained his cousin's supply of 
 cartridges and fastened it around his own body above 
 Lindberg's, loading the two weapons with care and 
 placing them in their holsters. 
 
 Doris watched these preparations anxiously, but 
 Hammersley made her eat her fill of chocolate and bis- 
 cuits and when they had finished, he went to the corner 
 of the cavern and brought forth a large and heavy 
 parcel which he put on the table and opened. Doris 
 saw that Captain von Winden was straightening on 
 the couch trying to see what it contained. Hammers- 
 ley did not even glance in his direction. He seemed 
 
 287
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 to know by instinct that Udo's curiosity had gotten 
 the better of his dignity. He opened the package de- 
 liberately and spread the contents dut upon the table. 
 
 "Spare parts of the Taube, Udo. I've had them 
 here for weeks. I'll let you have a peep at 'em if you 
 like. A socket-wrench, spark-plugs, bolts, nuts and 
 wire by Jove we might have used that on Udo." 
 
 "You are afraid that what he says is true," whis- 
 pered Doris anxiously. "Von Stromberg is prepared 
 for you." 
 
 "I wonder," he said.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 HARE AND HOUNDS 
 
 FOR two hours or more, Hammersley and the 
 girl, taking turn and turn, watched the road 
 and forest from the amphitheater of rocks. 
 The road in times of peace was a short route from 
 Windenberg to Schondorf and popular with the mar- 
 ket-folk. But the restrictions put upon visits to Blau- 
 felden had resulted in the diversion of traffic from the 
 south slope of the mountains to the longer road in the 
 valley upon the other side. The few who appeared 
 were men in uniform. From his lofty perch Ham- 
 mersley espied Captain Wentz as he hurried by with 
 several men in an automobile. Just beyond the crag 
 the automobile was stopped and the men dismounted 
 and went on afoot. Clearly they meant to continue the 
 search abroad. Hammersley chuckled. 
 
 "Hare and hounds !" he muttered to himself. "The 
 more men to the eastward, the fewer to the west. By 
 Jove !" 
 
 The expletive was not unusual with Hammersley 
 but the manner of its utterance gave it importance. 
 He crossed the level quickly and peered again at the 
 vanishing figures of the men. A new idea had been 
 born. Hare and hounds ! A game he had played at 
 Eton a game as old as sport, as old as hunting ! And 
 for such a prize! 
 
 He hurried into the cave, glancing hurriedly at his 
 watch. It was noon. Doris sat upon the stool near 
 
 289
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 Udo von Winden. Hammersley went over to their cap- 
 tive and examined his bonds and then gave the girl a 
 few hasty instructions. 
 
 "I am going down below to be gone two perhaps 
 three hours." 
 
 A quick intake of the breath escaped her but she 
 caught her under Up in her teeth and said nothing. 
 
 "Don't worry," he went on cheerfully, "I'm coming 
 back. I'll promise you that. I've got a plan," he 
 whispered, "a new plan, a noble plan, a plan that will 
 make our game an easy one. It will be harder for you 
 than for me, Doris, because you've only got to sit and 
 wait and try to be patient." 
 
 While he was talking he had taken off the belts that 
 contained the two pistols, fastening one around Doris. 
 Then he took off his leather jacket and put it on the 
 table, fastening the other belt containing Udo's car- 
 tridges and automatic over his gray sweater. She 
 watched him timidly. 
 
 "But suppose Graf von Winden should get his arms 
 free," she protested. "I cannot shoot him, Cyril I 
 cannot not that " 
 
 "He won't trouble you. I'll arrange that." He 
 took from his coat pocket the documents captured 
 from the Emperor's messenger and held them up so 
 that Udo von Winden could see them. 
 
 "I must leave you for a while, Udo. Awfully sorry, 
 but it's most urgent." He laughed. "You won't mind, 
 will you? Or try to make things difficult?" 
 
 He turned quickly and while both the girl and the 
 prisoner wondered what he was about to do, he went 
 to the tin box in the corner, brought out a new candle, 
 lighted it and held the papers so that the prisoner 
 could see them. 
 
 290
 
 "Do you observe what I am doing, Udo? Miss 
 Mather will sit here upon the opposite side of the cave. 
 If you attempt to get up from your bed, she will burn 
 the papers. Simple, isn't it? Also quite effective. 
 She doesn't want to shoot you, Udo nor do I. And 
 of course if the papers were burned, it wouldn't hurt 
 England a great deal. As long as the papers are in 
 Germany, my capture may throw them into German 
 hands, nicht wdhr?" 
 
 Udo von Winden's head moved slightly from left to 
 right. 
 
 With an auf tsnedersehen thrown over his shoulder 
 at Udo, Hammersley went outside the cave, where 
 Doris followed him. She was on the point of tears, 
 but she succeeded in a smile. 
 
 "Don't worry, Doris, old girl. Just going down 
 for a stroll about." 
 
 "But why, Cyril?" 
 
 "Goin* to throw 'em off the scent," he whispered. 
 
 "But they're already off the scent." 
 
 For answer he kissed her gently and bade her keep 
 up her courage. Then he gave her the papers, saw 
 ,>her inside the cave again and in a moment was gone. 
 i The more Hammersley thought of his plan the bet- 
 ter it seemed to him. The day was still young. In 
 three hours he could do much. He crossed the amphi- 
 theater of rocks and followed the rocky gorge by 
 which he had entered last night and when he emerged 
 upon the farther side, paused and watched for a while 
 to be sure that Wentz and his men were not in sight 
 and then descended the face of the rocks skillfully and 
 in a moment was creeping on all foilrs through the 
 underbrush up the side of the mountain. It was steep 
 here and rugged, but in a while he reached the old 
 
 291
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 deer trail over which he had passed when he had 
 doubled on his pursuers last night. But instead of 
 following it, he halted a moment to listen and then 
 crossed into the undergrowth which at this point was 
 so thick that at twenty paces even he was not visible. 
 He slipped among the treetrunks and evergreens, mov- 
 ing rapidly, making a wide circle up the mountainside 
 almost to its top, descending then by easy stages, until 
 he had covered four miles at least when he bore slowly 
 down toward the Schondorf road. 
 
 Hare and hounds! An exciting game even in the 
 old days when it meant athletic honors, but now, with 
 the alternatives of death as the penalty of capture and 
 a great triumph as the reward of escape, it made his 
 blood run madly. A good game a fair game, with 
 success as the reward of intelligence. 
 
 He planned carefully. He must be sure to come 
 down into the open at a spot beyond where Wentz and 
 his men were searching. He knew the country well. 
 There was a village on the hillside, half a mile below. 
 It was midway between Schondorf and the farm house 
 at Blaufelden. The families of some of the foresters 
 lived there and there was telephonic connection both 
 with the farm and Windenberg. All of the men of 
 Mittelwald who were not in the Forest Service were off 
 at the front and the chances were that unless Wentz 
 and his men were there, Hammersley would see only 
 women and children. But he knew that von Stromberg 
 had neglected nothing that would give an inkling of 
 his whereabouts and his presence would be at once 
 reported and the chase begin. He was in excellent con- 
 dition, trained a little too fine perhaps for an English- 
 man, but fit. He had done little running since leaving 
 the University, and though he had lost some of his old 
 
 292
 
 HARE AND HOUNDS 
 
 speed, he could rely upon the thought of his danger 
 and Doris's to provide the incentive for extraordinary 
 effort. 
 
 Mittelwald lay in a clearing 1 similar to that at Blau- 
 felden, and its farms, if farms they could be called, 
 clambered up the hillside and straggled over beyond 
 the road where they were merged into the undergrowth 
 of young oaks. The Schondorf road, curving this way 
 and that, passed between the houses, which were set a 
 irregular intervals, like the strips on the tail of a kite. 
 He went on through the underbrush, coming out into 
 the open upon the road at the point where it entered 
 the woods upon the Schondorf side. Then he settled 
 his automatic loosely in its sheath, and went forward 
 boldly. His eye had marked the line of the telephone 
 wire and followed it to the gable of one of the largest 
 houses in the village. It was to this house that he 
 made his way. A young woman was working in the 
 garden and he approached her quietly and politely, but 
 with an air of a man not to be trifled with, asked for 
 food. He was aware that he was unshorn, covered with 
 mud, and that his face was streaked with dirt and per- 
 spiration, but he knew that his appearance alone could 
 not have accounted for the sudden blanching of the 
 woman's face and the air of alarm with which she re- 
 garded him. She straightened and fell back two or 
 three paces toward the house, unable to speak a word 
 in reply. So he repeated his request, while her mouth 
 gaped at him and her eyes grew rounder. At last 
 she managed to stammer, 
 
 "Food! You are hungry?" 
 
 "Yes. Potato bread anything, but quickly. I will 
 go with you to the house." And he indicated the 
 way. 
 
 293
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 She stumbled on before him, her head jerking anx- 
 iously this way and that over her shoulder as though 
 she feared at any moment to receive a blow or a shot 
 in the back. But he followed her indoors and noted 
 with satisfaction that she appeared after all to be a 
 woman of some intelligence. A thing that pleased him 
 further was the telephone instrument in the corner. 
 
 "Milk, if you please, and quickly. I will take the 
 bread with me." And while she timorously brought 
 them out, "Who lives here?" 
 
 "F-F6rster Habermehl." 
 
 "Where is he?" peremptorily. 
 
 "At Windenberg." 
 
 "Oh! There are no men here?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "That is well, then." He drank a glass of milk 
 greedily and tore off a piece of the loaf. "You are 
 a good girl. Heaven will reward you." He made his 
 way to the door, looking out cautiously, and then 
 turned and put his hand in his pocket, bringing out a 
 piece of money. "See," he laughed, "I have concluded 
 to reward you myself. Cash. Much better than hopes, 
 nicht wahr?" 
 
 She fetched a timorous smile and bobbed shyly. 
 
 "You will do me a favor," he said in a whisper as 
 he went out of the door, "if you will tell no one of my 
 visit." 
 
 And with that, chuckling to himself, went down the 
 road again in the direction of Schondorf, watching the 
 turn in the road below the village for a glimpse of 
 Wentz and his men. Before he reached the edge of the 
 open country he paused and listened. From the house 
 that he had visited came the faint tinkle of a bell. 
 Frau Habermehl had lost no time. She had notified 
 
 294
 
 HARE r AND HOUNDS 
 
 the master of the hounds who was clamoring for the 
 scent. 
 
 Hammersley walked around the turn in the road, 
 which hid him from the house, and then went into the 
 bushes where he sat on a fallen log, peeping through 
 the leaves toward the further side of the clearing, 
 where General von Stromberg's men must appear. He 
 did not know how long he would have to wait. Half 
 an hour, perhaps longer. If he knew anything of von 
 Stromberg, they would come in every sort of available 
 vehicle, from a high-powered machine to a donkey cart, 
 picking up the misguided Wentz and his men upon the 
 way to follow this new scent. It was difficult to sit 
 still and wait. Hammersley wanted a smoke awfully, 
 but he chewed a twig instead, for he needed to keep 
 his wind in good condition and had purposely left his 
 pipe at the Thorwald. He did not want to get too far 
 away from Doris. By the way he intended to return 
 he was now at least six miles from the cavern and 
 with the mile or so he must go toward Schondorf be- 
 fore he turned, a good eight miles of rough going lay 
 between himself and safety. 
 
 Under other circumstances, he would have greatly 
 enjoyed the chance for a rest. With a cooler wind 
 from the northeast the weather had cleared and the 
 period of higher temperatures through which they had 
 passed seemed to be drawing to a close. In spite of 
 the doubts that hung about his plan, he couldn't help 
 saying to himself that he felt jolly fit. 
 
 Twenty minutes twenty-five. He got up and 
 stretched his long limbs luxuriously. The hare was 
 ready. It was time they cast forward the hounds. A 
 peep through the bushes showed him Frau Habermehl 
 standing near her home watching the road to Winden- 
 
 295
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 berg. So he came out of his place of concealment and 
 stood in the open again until he was sure that she saw 
 him, when he turned and went slowly toward Schon- 
 dorf. He had planned his moment nicely for before 
 he was out of sight of the clearing, an automobile came 
 into view paused a moment before Frau Habermehl 
 and then came on rapidly. 
 
 Hammersley waited until they had "viewed" him 
 and then cut into the woods to his left, slipping from 
 tree to tree not fifty yards in the cover when the 
 machine came to a stop and the men jumped down and 
 came after him. He did not know who was in com- 
 mand and did not care, but just to show them that he 
 was the man they were after, he risked a shot with his 
 automatic and then sped along rapidly, working up 
 the mountainside, following in a general way the direc- 
 tion of Schondorf. He heard them plunging after him 
 in full cry and the sound of their footsteps made 
 him move at a rare pace. He knew well this piece of 
 woods, and in a moment came to a path which curved 
 to the right, leading straight up the mountain. When 
 he reached it he paused to look over his shoulder. It 
 was difficult to see the green uniforms, but there was a 
 flash of light from a patch of fir trees and a twig just 
 above his head fell across his path. His curiosity was 
 satisfied. He shut his mouth and, breathing through 
 his nostrils, went off with a burst of speed which put 
 him around a turn in the path before any of the green 
 uniforms had come into sight. He had them coming 1 
 now, two three men one little one and two big ones. 
 He caught a glimpse of them in a moment when the 
 path came into a glade of rocks and barrens. There 
 was his danger. A chance shot might get him when 
 they emerged, before he found the cover again. But 
 
 296
 
 leaping from rock to rock he managed to reach the 
 path upon the other side, and their shots went wild. 
 
 When he reached cover he halted a moment for a 
 breath, firing a shot in the direction of the advancing 
 men, who promptly dropped to cover. And when they 
 came on again, he had gained a clear lead of a hundred 
 yards or more. 
 
 He had foreseen his greatest danger of being 
 caught in thick underbrush and surrounded so he kept 
 to the main path, only leaving it for a smaller and 
 more tortuous one, when the other turned down the 
 mountain toward the road again. Since the exchange 
 of shots his pursuers had become more cautious and 
 when they reached the fork of the paths they stopped, 
 sweating in their heavy coats and cursing lustily, while 
 they debated upon the question as to which path he 
 had taken. The hounds were at fault. From a point 
 above, he could see them quite clearly and one of them 
 was the Fatalist who had been his jailor last evening. 
 Just to discover whether he was sincere in his philoso- 
 phy, Hammersley sent a bullet skipping above his- 
 head. He ducked and Hammersley laughed. 
 
 "Silly ass!" he muttered. "Fatalist! Fatality if 
 I'd aimed at him!" 
 
 And he was off again, for other men had joined the 
 leaders and the scent was hot. He carried them fast, 
 up to the bald top of the mountain where the going was 
 faster, and down in the valley to the right. They had 
 gained nothing on him and Hammersley with his second 
 wind was breathing more easily, but it was almost time 
 to double. Here was as good a place as another for 
 the pack of them to spend the afternoon and he made 
 up his mind to lose them without further ado. There 
 was only one runner in the lot and he was the Fatalist, 
 20 297
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 though how he had ever happened to learn to run in 
 the Imperial Navy, Hammersley had not the time or 
 inclination to decide. If his philosophy limped, his 
 legs at least were strong and he came on rapidly leap- 
 ing like a young buck toward the opening over the 
 crest of the knob into which Hammersley had disap- 
 peared. A short way down was a spur of rock, the 
 beginnings of a ridge which cut out into the hills, 
 the watershed of two rills which leaped from rock to 
 rock to the valleys below. Hammersley chose the 
 right-hand valley for the going was better, and went 
 down it at top speed for a quarter of a mile or more, 
 pausing where the path led into the underbrush and 
 pines until the Fatalist should view him when he dis- 
 appeared, and then turning into the thicket circled 
 quickly to the left, and taking advantage of every 
 cover, slowly and carefully climbed the ridge to a 
 place of vantage where he crouched and waited, to have 
 the satisfaction a moment later of seeing his ex-jailor, 
 weapon in hand, go plunging down the path past his 
 place of concealment. 
 
 Hammersley listened a moment to the sounds of 
 crashing feet in front of him and behind, and then, 
 creeping slowly and making what speed he could, 
 crossed the ridge and in a while was out of sight and 
 hearing of them. He feared little in crossing the other 
 valley, for his pursuers were strung out in a line, each 
 in sight of the other, and would follow the leader like 
 a flock of sheep. But there was little time to waste 
 and the greatest test of Hammersley's endurance and 
 Doris's was to come. For two, perhaps three hours, 
 these men would search for him, and more would come. 
 The Fatalist would bear the brunt of their failure, but 
 in the meanwhile Hammersley must reach the cave in 
 
 298
 
 HARE AND HOUNDS 
 
 the Thorwald and take Doris to Blaufelden. The first 
 part of the return run must be done at top speed to 
 gave time which would be needed later. So when he 
 crossed the second valley in safety and had reached the 
 mountaintop, Hammersley abandoned all caution, risk- 
 ing the chance of meeting Wentz and his men, and with 
 a sharp lookout ahead of him went as fast as he could 
 along the ridge, finding at last the trail by which he 
 had come earlier in the day, down which he ran with a 
 long stride which covered the four miles in less than 
 half an hour. He reached the upper passage to the 
 cave in safety and in a moment was safe behind the 
 projecting bowlders of the amphitheater. He was 
 breathing heavily, and the sweat was pouring from 
 him. Doris was watching for him. 
 
 "They're following you? They're coming?" she 
 asked nervously. 
 
 He quieted her and led her inside the cave, where 
 he dropped for a moment of rest upon the stool. Doris 
 watched him anxiously. In a moment he was laughing. 
 
 "Oh, I led 'em a rippin' run straight for Schon- 
 dorf," he gasped. "They're pattin' me out six miles 
 from here on the top of the Schmalzberg. Lord !" he 
 grinned, "but that was a breather." 
 
 She brought him the pitcher of water but he only 
 rinsed his mouth. 
 
 "How are you feelin'? Fit?" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 "Right-o. Come along. We're off." 
 
 He went over to the prisoner and examined his bonds 
 carefully. 
 
 "Poor old Udo !" he muttered in German. "I've got 
 to go. You might worry through those strings. It's 
 the only way, because I'm not leaving any matches." 
 
 299
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 He leaned over and patted his cousin on the shoul- 
 der. "Good-by, Udo," he said. "We'll meet again, 
 some day, as friends, my cousin as friends." 
 
 Von Winden's eyes met Hammersley's and then he 
 lowered his head upon the balsam boughs. 
 
 There was no time for amenities. Hammersley 
 slipped on his leather jacket and cap, fastening his belt 
 outside, reloaded his automatic, filled the pockets of 
 Doris's coat with biscuit and chocolate, then made a 
 bundle of the tools and spare parts, which he selected 
 carefully, and in a moment he and Doris were outside 
 on the ridge, peering over toward the road below. All 
 was quiet, and they descended carefully to the pro- 
 jecting rock, pausing there to listen again. The ma- 
 chine of Wentz, which had been left near the crag, had 
 gone on toward Mittelwald. Hammersley smiled. The 
 plan had worked. It was working. They must suc- 
 ceed. 
 
 Down in the bushes at the foot of the crag by the 
 road they paused again, listening, and then Ham- 
 mersley went forward, peering out, up and down the 
 road. Silence. Solitude. Leading the way, with the 
 hand of the girl in his, he quickly crossed and plunged 
 into the undergrowth silently until they had reached a 
 distance which would defy detection from the road. 
 Then Hammersley bore to the right and went on rap- 
 idly. 
 
 Doris's heart was beating high with excitement and 
 hope. The Yellow Dove! Could they reach the han- 
 gar safely, and when there could they tune up unde- 
 tected? The success of the venture seemed impossible 
 for there must still be men on guard at Blaufelden 
 someone ! But as they went on through the wood, she 
 found some of the contagion of Cyril's audacity. He 
 
 300
 
 HARE AND HOUNDS 
 
 seemed tireless. When they reached a trail which led 
 in the desired direction, without speaking to her, he set 
 forward into a steady jog trot which put them well 
 upon their way. He turned around from time to time 
 and watched her, and when he saw that she was nearly 
 blown he slowed down to a walk and explained his plan. 
 
 "Jolly flyin' weather this. Once we're in the air 
 they can't stop us, Doris. She's armored around the 
 cockpit and engines, and they haven't anything heavier 
 than a rifle at Blaufelden. We'll go up the Rhine to 
 the sea, flyin' high. Then cut to the left along the 
 coast, as far as the French line, and then go in to 
 Ypres and from there to General French's headquar- 
 ters. You can easily tell by the lines of trenches. I 
 want you to listen carefully. I've got two seats and 
 double control. The arrangement is just the same as 
 on your Nieuport, only she answers her control much 
 more slowly. The wheel is on a universal joint; the 
 gas, on your wheel, the spark to your left, the mag- 
 neto, a button in front of you. She starts by com- 
 pressed air." 
 
 "But the exhaust, Cyril," she gasped, "before we 
 go it's only a few hundred yards from the shed to 
 the house !" 
 
 "We're going to risk that. With luck we'll be 
 
 movin' in three minutes, and then " He paused 
 
 grimly. 
 
 "And then ?" 
 
 "I'd like to see a dozen stop us." 
 
 He had such perfect assurance that all doubt left 
 her. Indeed, to Doris, he seemed endowed with some 
 hidden fount of initiative and inspiration, and she was 
 willing to believe anything he told her. They went on 
 rapidly, while he answered all her questions and gave 
 
 301
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 her final instructions, until at last they reached a path, 
 the same, he told her, by which they had come from 
 the farm last night. They started up a frightened 
 deer, which fled away from them, but they didn't pause 
 until the path cut sharply to the right and through 
 the bushes they could see the buildings of Blaufelden. 
 There they stopped and Hammersley went forward to 
 investigate. 
 
 In the direction of the farmhouse was no sign of 
 animation except the thread of smoke that rose from 
 the kitchen chimney. The back of the hangar was just 
 in front of them, a bare wall of wood, a hundred and 
 fifty feet long. The opening was upon the other side, 
 to the west, a huge canvas flap, toggled at the bottom 
 to rings in the sill. Hammersley came back and whis- 
 pered to Doris to follow him. Until the starting of 
 the engine, this was the most hazardous part of the 
 proceeding, for, if they were seen from the house, there 
 would be no time for Hammersley to put the engines 
 in order. He led her south to a point in the woods 
 where the storehouse hid them from the main buildings, 
 when, crouching low to avoid possible detection from 
 the Windenberg road, they covered the fifty yards to 
 the storehouse and waited again, completely hidden 
 from all points except the forest behind them, while 
 Cyril looked around the edge of the building, and then 
 beckoned to her to follow. In a moment they had 
 slipped between the end of the canvas flap and the 
 door, and were within the dusky interior of the shed. 
 
 Before them stretched the wide expanse of the Yel- 
 low Dove, a huge biplane with a spread, as nearly as 
 Doris could figure it, of a hundred and twenty feet 
 from tip to tip. She stood before it in wonder and 
 awe, admiring its fine lines and sturdy appearance. A 
 
 302
 
 HARE AND HOUNDS 
 
 dragon-fly her Nieuport was beside this great eagle of 
 the air. The other machine, an Etrich monoplane, 
 which was used by Udo von Winden, seemed lost in 
 the shadows of the larger wings. Doris stood quite 
 still, as Cyril had directed, while he moved off noise- 
 lessly in the dim light. She saw him slipping from one 
 spot to another, quickly examining this and that, and 
 at last saw him climb up into the machine with his kit 
 of tools. She came nearer as he whispered down to 
 her: 
 
 "They've taken out some plugs. I'll have 'em in 
 shortly." And then : "Go around the lower plane and 
 tell me if the guys are all taut." 
 
 She did as he asked, while she heard him above work- 
 ing over the engines. 
 
 "How long will it take?" she whispered. 
 
 "I can't tell twenty minutes, perhaps. The petrol 
 tanks are empty, too." 
 
 "I want to help." 
 
 "Are the wires all fast?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Good. Then bring me the hose from the petrol 
 tank. It's there beside you in the corner. You can 
 run it in while I'm workin'." 
 
 She did as she was bid, climbing up with a feeling of 
 exultation into the tall machine beside him. 
 
 "The reserve tank first " he whispered. "Up here 
 between the planes. Here's a wrench. The opening is 
 on the top." 
 
 They worked side by side, noiselessly and efficiently, 
 Hammersley fitting the missing spark-plugs and con- 
 necting a new coil wire which had been removed. He 
 looked over the machine carefully, but could find noth- 
 ing else missing, or even needing adjustment, for he 
 
 303
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 had taken care yesterday morning, as was his custom, 
 to go over the engine with his own hands. The impair- 
 ment of the engine was of no serious consequence, and 
 intended only to delay. Von Stromberg had not 
 counted on such a chance for readjustment as this, or 
 upon Hammersley's reserve supply of necessary ma- 
 terial. And unless they had done something else that 
 he could not discover but what? While he worked 
 Hammersley tried to think, casting between times anx- 
 ious glances at the gears, the propellers and the con- 
 trol wires. The reserve tank of petrol was filled and 
 the hose was steadily pouring the stuff into the one un- 
 der the forward cockpit, which was full by the time the 
 plugs and wires were all adjusted. 
 
 "That will be enough, Doris," he whispered. "We 
 only need to get to the English lines. There's no time 
 for more." 
 
 She saw him try the wheel, watching the connecting 
 gear keenly, and, when he ordered it, she climbed down 
 into the rear seat. He gave her a leather coat, gloves 
 and helmet, and buckled her into her seat. Then, in 
 a state of nervous tension, they waited. She saw Cyril 
 climb down, coolly wiping his hands with a piece of 
 waste, restore the hose to its place, and then peer out 
 from a slit in the canvas door. Then he bent over, 
 and running quickly along the flap from side to side, 
 one after another quickly unfastened the toggles which 
 held it in place. 
 
 "We've got to chance it now," he whispered up to 
 her. "If she doesn't work God help us " 
 
 "But the canvas " 
 
 "The machine will " 
 
 He stopped abruptly, for Doris's eyes were staring 
 in panic at something behind him. Hammersley whirled 
 
 304
 
 HARE AND HOUNDS 
 
 quickly toward the slit in the canvas, his automatic in 
 his hand. There, not four paces away, blinking into 
 the dusk, stood the tall figure of His Excellency, Gen- 
 eral Graf von Stroraberg.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 FROM THE HEIGHTS 
 
 'AMMERSLEY had him covered, and the Gen- 
 eral made no move to defend himself. He 
 bent his head and folded his arms, peering 
 into Hammersley's eyes like a short-sighted man trying 
 to adjust his vision to an unaccustomed task. But his 
 frown relaxed almost immediately and his lips sepa- 
 rated, showing a gleam of teeth. 
 
 "My compliments, Herr Hammersley," he said. 
 "You have done well. It pleases me to meet at 
 last " 
 
 "Move your right hand again the fraction of an 
 inch and I will shoot, Excellenz," said Hammersley, in 
 the sharp, quick accents of a resolute man. 
 
 Von Stromberg only smiled more broadly. But he 
 did not move. He had seen enough of Herr Ham- 
 mersley to respect his sincerity. 
 
 "I have staked my professional reputation upon 
 your presence elsewhere, Herr Hammersley. Instinct, 
 perhaps, led me here. I do not know what else. But 
 I came alone. I am not armed." 
 
 Hammersley was in no mood for trifling and time 
 was flying. Better to shoot the man and be done with 
 it, but he couldn't, somehow. Instead he searched him 
 quickly for weapons. 
 
 "You're too late, Excellenz. I am sorry, but I have 
 no time for conversation." 
 
 "You will at least let me pay you the compliment of 
 306
 
 FROM THE HEIGHTS 
 
 saying that the Prussian blood in you has made you 
 the most brilliant Englishman I have ever met." 
 
 "I have no time to match phrases with you " 
 
 "Ach, but you match what is much more important 
 a genius for dissimulation. Yesterday you disap- 
 pointed me, Herr Hammersley, with your talk of plans 
 of fortifications of Strassburg. I had been hoping 
 that you were playing a deeper game, something that 
 would relieve the flat monotony of my routine. You 
 were to save me from utter boredom. It is true. I 
 had hoped that. I was disappointed when I thought 
 that you were like the others. Disappointed ! I should 
 have known " 
 
 "And now that I have the papers what are you go- 
 ing to do about it?" asked Hammersley with a touch 
 of bravado. 
 
 Von Stromberg shrugged. 
 
 "I confess that I am so rapt in admiration of 
 your genius that I am at a loss I must yield to the 
 inevitable. But I am happy in the knowledge that only 
 a person of the skill of Herr Hammersley could have 
 succeeded in outwitting the head of the Secret Service 
 Department of the Empire." 
 
 "Enough of this !" Hammersley broke in. "I should 
 kill you, General von Stromberg, but I won't if you 
 obey me promptly. Stand aside over there against 
 the wall. If you move, I'll shoot. I'm going out of 
 here." 
 
 Von Stromberg did as he was bidden, and his long 
 strides and erect carriage had lost none of their dig- 
 nity. When he reached the wall he turned with a smile. 
 Then he said suavely: 
 
 "I fear, Herr Hammersley, that you will not go 
 forth as rapidly as you like." 
 
 307
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 Hammersley only laughed at him. 
 
 "We'll see about that." He took a stride to the 
 canvas curtain and had a quick look outside. And 
 then to the girl: "Crank her, Doris ! The compressed 
 air the button to the left beside the wheel !" 
 
 There was a long pause when Doris reached forward 
 in her seat. A pause filled with meanings for Ham- 
 mersley, in which his fate and hers, was hanging in the 
 balance. Von Stromberg seemed to read his thoughts, 
 and the wolfish smile spread again over his face. 
 
 "It is just possible," he said blandly, "that some- 
 one may have been tinkering with the machinery." 
 
 There was another long silence a moment of agony 
 for Hammersley. 
 
 "Yes, 7 have," roared Hammersley exultantly. 
 
 For just then there was a violent explosion, deafen- 
 ing in the enclosed space, like the roar of a giant 
 cracker would have been another and then' more 
 rapidly another, followed by a number of concussions, 
 like a pack of giant crackers catching intermittently 
 and then in quick succession. 
 
 General von Stromberg's smile faded then vanished 
 in a look of inefficacy and dismay. He was senile. 
 Hammersley's grin derided him. Speech was impossi- 
 ble, but the muzzle of the automatic was as eloquent as 
 before. One more explosion or six, for that matter, 
 would add little to the din. Von Stromberg's life hung 
 by a hair at that moment and he knew it. Still cov- 
 ering His Excellency, who was now glancing at the slit 
 in the curtain beside him, Hammersley climbed up to 
 the seat in front of Doris in the cockpit of the ma- 
 chine. And just as he was putting a leg over, His 
 Excellency took a quick glance upward, which had in 
 it a world of expression and bolted. 
 
 308
 
 FROM THE HEIGHTS 
 
 Hammersley's shot must have missed. He looked 
 around at Doris and laughed, and she saw the light of 
 triumph that rode in his eyes. The exhaust was roar- 
 ing steadily now, but with one hand on the wheel and 
 in the other his automatic, Hammersley sat motionless, 
 watching the slits in the canvas for the men that he 
 knew must come in a moment. At a gesture of his, 
 Doris sank low in the cockpit, her hands on the wheel, 
 watching, too, and ready to do her share as Cyril had 
 directed. One two minutes passed she seemed to 
 be counting the seconds. The body of the machine was 
 trembling as though with the excitement of the moment 
 and the explosions had blended into one continuous 
 roar. Cyril threw the clutch in and the note lowered 
 as the propellers began to whirr. The huge fabric 
 jumped forward, gathering momentum as it went, until 
 by the time it reached the canvas curtain in front of 
 it, it was going as fast as a man would run. The 
 weight of the heavy flap retarded it for a moment, but 
 it went steadily on, and the canvas was pushed out- 
 ward then rose it seemed to Doris like the curtain 
 on a melodrama. Men were running up, shooting as 
 they ran. They clutched at the toggles and swung off 
 their feet, falling in a heap upon the ground. She saw 
 a man, the only one not in uniform, take hold of the 
 lower plane and try to stop the momentum. It was 
 John Rizzio. She saw his face for a second, dark, 
 handsome, smiling. Cyril rose in his seat and their 
 weapons streamed fire. Rizzio moved backward with 
 the machine, still clinging to the lower plane, and then 
 disappeared, passing under it, just where the blades of 
 the right-hand propeller were. 
 
 A slight shock and a shapeless mass went rolling 
 over and over until it brought up motionless against 
 
 309
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 the jamb of the door. Two other men, Foresters, 
 warned by Rizzio's fate, sprang aside with horror in 
 their eyes. Doris sank lower in her seat, her cheeks 
 bloodless, grasping her wheel with icy hands, filled 
 with horror. Cyril had sunk down in his seat, clutch- 
 ing at the side of the cockpit, his weapon falling from 
 his fingers. With an effort she steadied her hold on 
 the wheel. The canvas curtain had passed over their 
 heads. They were in the open. To the right, coming 
 from the Windenberg road, a machine filled with men 
 was dashing across the field before them at a diagonal 
 which would intercept them. She heard shots near at 
 hand. Cyril did not move. She had a glimpse of Gen- 
 eral von Stromberg, who had snatched a pistol from 
 the hand of the nearest soldier and fired. 
 
 They were moving fast. But the automobile in the 
 field before them seemed to be moving faster Captain 
 Wentz and four men! She saw Cyril's hand rise in 
 front of her, pointing to the left to avoid them, but 
 Wentz came on. The Yellow Dove was still running 
 on its wheels. She saw the danger. Wentz was aiming 
 at a collision. She pulled her wheel toward her in- 
 stinctively and the Yellow Dove rose, skimming the 
 ground. She felt it lifting, slowly, now rapidly. The 
 automobile seemed about to strike them. Another jerk 
 on the wheel and the skids of the Yellow Dove just 
 grazed the wind-shield of the machine, and a soldier 
 leaped into the air, trying to catch a hold, missed and 
 tumbled to the ground. In the car men were shout- 
 ing like demons, and a volley of pistol bullets pierced 
 the planes. She felt them strike the armored body, 
 but she sank lower, clutching her wheel. 
 
 Clear? They must be. A second of agonized sus- 
 pense and she saw Cyril turn his head and look down 
 
 310
 
 FROM THE HEIGHTS 
 
 behind them. His face was white but his eye flashed 
 triumph. His lips moved, but she heard nothing. 
 Safe? They must be. The Yellow Dove, mounting 
 easily, had cleared the trees at the border of the farm 
 and before the eyes of the girl stretched only undulat- 
 ing surfaces of gray and green. 
 
 In front of her Cyril lay back in his seat. His 
 hands clutched the sides of the cockpit. O God! She 
 had not been sure before what his sudden lassitude had 
 meant. He had been hit! John Rizzio! He turned 
 around and smiled at her and one hand, stretched be- 
 fore him, pointed up and to the right. Her throat 
 closed and her heart seemed to stop its beating and 
 the Dove for a moment swung and tossed like a drunken 
 thing, but with an effort she inclined her wheel and met 
 it. Cyril again raised his fingers and pointed upwards. 
 Higher! She tipped the wheel further toward her. 
 His gesture was like an appeal to Heaven a symbol 
 of his faith in her and in the God of both. She set her 
 lips and obeyed. Broken and helpless perhaps dying, 
 he was putting his faith in her. She must not fail him 
 now. 
 
 She kept her gaze before her over Cyril's head, try- 
 ing to gain strength for what she had to do, thinking 
 that she was in England at Ashwater Park and that 
 the wheel she held was that of her own little Nieuport. 
 There seemed to be little difference between them, ex- 
 cept that the Yellow Dove was easier to manage. It 
 responded to the slightest touch, and had a magnificent 
 steadiness that reassured Doris as to her ability to do 
 the thing that was required of her. 
 
 The mountains had fallen below them and the hori- 
 zon had widened until it blurred into the haze of the 
 distance. She looked down on what seemed to her a 
 
 311
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 plain of purple velvet touched with lighter patches of 
 orange and violet. Before her the sun was setting 
 blood red in a sea of amber. She mounted above it into 
 the clear empyrean of azure, higher higher yet. She 
 felt the exhilaration of large spaces, the joy of con- 
 quest over all material things. Death even did not dis- 
 may her Cyril's her own. She seemed to have 
 crossed at a bound, from the realm of substance into 
 that of immateriality. Her soul already sang in ac- 
 cord with the angels. They were mated. She and Cy- 
 ril mated! And even Death should not separate 
 them. 
 
 Dusk fell slowly below them, like a black giant strid- 
 ing across the face of the earth, but all was still bright 
 and clear about her. The red ball of the sun would 
 not set. She was going upward upward into the 
 realm of continuous and perfect day. Below her a 
 thread of silk, thrown carelessly upon a purple carpet. 
 The Rhine! She saw Cyril's hand come up and move 
 feebly to the right. She turned slowly and followed 
 its direction. The Rhine she remembered Cyril's 
 words back there in the woods. She must follow the 
 Rhine to the sea and then turn to the westward along 
 the coast. She would do it. She must. 
 
 Cyril was hurt but perhaps not badly. His ges- 
 tures reassured her. He moved his hand in a level 
 line in front of him and she understood. They had 
 mounted high enough. The barograph showed four 
 thousand feet. She brought the wheel up to normal 
 and held it there. The wind burned her cheeks and she 
 knew from the changes in the river below her that the 
 speed of the Yellow Dove was terrific ninety miles 
 a hundred a hundred and twenty an hour perhaps 
 much more she did not know. The speed got into her 
 
 312
 
 FROM THE HEIGHTS 
 
 blood. Faster, faster, was the song her pulses sung. 
 She was a part of the Yellow Dove now, and it was a 
 part of herself. Its wings were her wings and its in- 
 stinct was in her own fingertips. 
 
 Night fell slowly, a luminous night full of stars. 
 She seemed to be hanging among them to be one of 
 them watching the earth pass under her. Two of 
 them gleamed like St. Elmo's lights at the tips of the 
 planes. The sky was clear and bright, of a deep bluish 
 purple, like the skies she remembered high up on the 
 plains of the great West in her own country. The air 
 was bitter cold upon her face and she blessed Cyril's 
 foresight for the helmet, gloves and old leather jacket 
 that he had put on her in the hangar. In front of her 
 Cyril leaned slightly to one side and his right hand 
 touched a button, throwing an electric light in a hood 
 in front of the wheel upon the face of the compass 
 and barograph. She glanced at them quickly four 
 thousand feet the direction north-northwest. She 
 longed to speak to him and shouted his name. But in 
 the roar of the engines she could not hear her own 
 voice. 
 
 He still sat up, the fingers of his right hand moving 
 from time to time as he gave her the direction. She 
 thanked God for that he was alive he would live 
 until they reached Ypres. He must live. He must. 
 She set her teeth upon the words and willed it, praying 
 at last aloud with lips that screamed yet made no 
 sound. 
 
 Below her moved the lights of a city. She did not 
 know what it was. Cologne, perhaps. She had passed 
 it yesterday morning in the train with John Rizzio. 
 Yesterday! It seemed a year ago. Cologne then 
 Dusseldorf. The river was not difficult to follow. She 
 21 313
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 lost it once and then moving at a lower altitude she 
 found it quickly. But the old terror was gripping her 
 now. Cyril! His fingers no longer moved directing 
 her. He had sunk lower in his seat and his head had 
 fallen back upon one side, his face upturned to the 
 stars. Was he ? 
 
 She put the thought from her. It was impossible. 
 She had prayed. Not that . . . He had only fainted 
 from pain, from sickness. Not dead she would not 
 could not believe it. She longed to reach forward to 
 let him feel her hand upon his neck that he might 
 know her pity and her pain. It almost seemed better 
 that death should come to them both now than that he 
 should die and not know the comforting touch of her 
 hand. She leaned forward and one hand left the 
 wheel, but she lost her touch of the air and the planes 
 tipped drunkenly, threatening the destruction she 
 courted. 
 
 The madness passed and with its passing came a 
 calm, ice-cold. She was no longer a sentient being. 
 She was merely an instinct with wings, flying as the 
 eagle flies straight for its goal. She kept her glance 
 on the compass and followed the river. North-north- 
 west. The silver thread had become a ribbon now, re- 
 flecting the starlight. She passed over other towns. 
 She could see their lights, but her gaze was fixed most 
 often on the distant horizon, where after a while she 
 would find the sea. 
 
 A yellowish light, painting the under side of the 
 plane above her head, bewildered her. She could not 
 understand. It was like a reflection of a candle inside 
 a tent. Low as it was, it blinded her eyes, accustomed 
 to the soft light of the stars. There was a crash 
 nearby, in the very air beside her it seemed, a blind-
 
 FROM THE HEIGHTS 
 
 ing flash of light, and the Yellow Dove toppled side- 
 ways. Instinctively she caught it, turning as she went 
 and rose higher higher as a bird flies at the sound 
 of a shot below. She knew now what it meant a 
 searchlight! They were firing at her with the high- 
 angle guns. She had come fast, but the wire from 
 Windenberg had been faster. She put the light behind 
 her and long arms of light still groped for her, but she 
 rose still higher, five six thousand feet her barograph 
 told her. Below, to her right, a small thing, shaped 
 like a dragon-fly, was spitting fire to her left an- 
 other, but she sank lower in her seat laughing at them. 
 Something of Cyril's joyous bravado possessed her. 
 She defied them, rising far above them higher seven 
 thousand feet eight, until she could see them no 
 more. 
 
 North-northwest! She found her course again and 
 flew on into the night. She had lost the river, but that 
 did not matter now. She knew that after a time an 
 hour or more she must come to the sea. And when 
 all signs of danger were gone she went down again 
 where she could more plainly see the earth. The moon 
 had come up and bathed the scene below with its soft 
 light, and far ahead of her she saw irregular streaks 
 of pale gray against long lines of purplish black. The 
 sea? She had lost all idea of time and distance. How 
 far the sea was from Windenberg she did not know, 
 and if she had known it, the passage of time was a 
 blank to her a continuous roar, the music of the 
 spheres which took no thought of time or space. The 
 flight had lasted but a minute and an eternity. 
 
 To her left the gray streaks were nearer west 
 by north her compass said, and she steered for them. 
 Soon she made out distinctly contours of large masses 
 
 315
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 of gray against the black water and land. The air 
 was milder and she sniffed the salt. She went down 
 to three thousand feet to get her bearings, ever watch- 
 ful for the dragon-flies and ready to soar again at the 
 first flash of a searchlight. She had already learned 
 to avoid the planes where the lights were grouped 
 the colonies of glow-worms that here meant danger. 
 
 Had she crossed the Belgian line? She had been to 
 Antwerp, to Brussels, and tried to remember what 
 they had looked like on the map. There was water 
 near Antwerp she remembered that, inland bodies of 
 water which led to the sea. Now she could see beyond 
 the bodies of inland water to a wide expanse of gray 
 beyond the dark uninterrupted gray the ocean! 
 She bore to her left until her course was due west. A 
 searchlight flashed upon her for a second and was 
 gone. By the way the contours were changing she 
 knew that her speed was terrific. And slowly but more 
 and more certainly as she neared the sea, a problem 
 presented itself her goal! Where was it, and how to 
 find it in the dark? Cyril had said that they must 
 land back of Ypres. But where was Ypres? Beyond 
 Ostend and inland thirty forty miles. She knew 
 that much from the war maps that she had pored over 
 with her father. But how to find it? 
 
 She was over the sea now. The Yellow Dove felt a 
 new breeze and the wheel tugged under her hand, but 
 the machine lifted at the touch and wheeled like a gull 
 to speed down the coast. Ostend! The Kursaal! If 
 she could get a sight of it ! It was dangerous, but she 
 must go lower three two hundred feet from the sea, 
 where she might make out familiar profiles against the 
 sky. 
 
 The waves rose to meet her, reflecting the starlight, 
 316
 
 and just below her to the left the surf rolled in lines 
 of white upon the beach. Dunes, dunes interminably, 
 with here and there a collection of huts. A dark shape 
 moved in the water ahead of her, another War- 
 ships? Destroyers. She wheeled out to sea and flew 
 above them, but before they had time even to get their 
 searchlights ranged upon her, the danger was past. 
 She would win now. The Yellow Dove was invincible. 
 
 A dark irregular mass ahead of her rose above the 
 monotony of dunes, buildings, and a bulk she seemed 
 to recognize a round dome iridescent like a soap 
 bubble in the moonlight. The Kursaal ! Ostend ! She 
 was nearing her destination the end of the German 
 lines. Friends were near Belgians, French, and Eng- 
 lish. Twenty thirty miles beyond Ostend and then 
 inland somewhere back of Ypres she would find the 
 English. The English lines were thirty or forty miles 
 long, she remembered. It should not be difficult to find 
 them. She must be sure to go far enough but not 
 too far not to where the French army joined the 
 British forces. Cyril's papers must go to the English, 
 to General French himself. He had said so. 
 
 She had no way of judging distance except by the 
 passage of the minutes. At the speed she was flying 
 she must turn inland in fifteen minutes. She had no 
 watch and she tried counting the seconds. She had 
 counted sixty four times when a battery hidden 
 among the dunes along the shore opened fire on her. 
 She was half a mile from shore, flying low, but the flash 
 of light startled her and the shell burst beyond. She 
 rose quickly, moving further out to sea, frightened, but 
 still self-possessed. It would not do to fail now with 
 the goal in sight. 
 
 The compass gave her course southwest by west. 
 23 317
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 She counted again, guessing at the time she had lost, 
 and then, making a wide spiral out to sea and rising to 
 three thousand feet, she drove the Yellow Dove inland. 
 Searchlights were turned on her and shots fired, but 
 she went higher, trying to make out if she could the 
 lines of the opposing armies. Red and yellow lights 
 were displayed below to her left, and far to her right 
 were tiny clusters of lights, but there seemed to be no 
 order in their arrangement no lines that she could 
 distinguish even at this height. Her keen eyes, now 
 inured to the darkness, made out a monoplane against 
 the starlight ahead of her but she swerved to the 
 right, the greater power of the Yellow Dove enabling 
 her to rise and elude it. She flew for what seemed ten 
 or fifteen minutes, going steadily to the south and west, 
 when she drove for a spot where there were no Lights 
 and then shut off the throttle and dove. 
 
 She knew that this was perhaps the greatest mo- 
 ment of her great adventure. A landing place in the 
 dark in a country she did not know, where a church 
 steeple, a telegraph wire, the limb of a tree, would 
 bring her and her precious freight to disaster. With 
 the sudden shutting off of the power, a silence that 
 bewildered her, a silence broken only by the whirr of 
 the wind against the planes. Her ears ached from the 
 change of pressure in her swift descent. She eased 
 her wheel back gently, trying to make out objects be- 
 low. Dark patches woods to be avoided, the roof 
 of a house another lights here and there, small, ob- 
 scure, which she had not seen. She avoided them all, 
 planing down in a spiral toward what seemed to be 
 unobstructed space. 
 
 She breathed a prayer as the earth came up to meet 
 
 her. Death ? Whatever came Cyril, too. . . . 
 
 318
 
 FROM THE HEIGHTS 
 
 She stared straight before her, feeling out the wind 
 pressure on the planes, gliding as near the horizontal 
 as she dared. An open field! Thank God! A gentle 
 shock and the springs responded. The Yellow Dove 
 rebounded slightly and ran along the ground smoothly 
 upon its wheels then stopped. She tried to get up, 
 but could not. Her hands seemed fastened to the 
 wheel. She heard the sound of men's voices shouting 
 and saw lights, but she could not seem to make a sound. 
 She was shivering violently, also laughing a little, but 
 she had no sense of being cold. She seemed very weak 
 somehow, and very helpless. And then, just as the 
 lights grew brighter they went out.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 HEADQUARTERS 
 
 A WOMAN !" she heard a man's voice say at her 
 ear. She was lying upon the ground, and 
 strange faces were bending over her. "Well, 
 I'm damned!" 
 
 English ! 
 
 "And the other?" she heard again. "Dead as a 
 'errin'!" 
 
 Doris sat up, staring at them wildly. 
 
 "Wait ! There's a flutter 'ere yet." She heard the 
 other man say. "Come, Bill. Let's have 'im over to 
 the 'ouse." 
 
 Doris managed to find a whisper. "A surgeon for 
 him," she said to the man supporting her. "He will 
 not die. He is only wounded." 
 
 It was her obsession. It would not leave her. 
 
 She saw them carrying Cyril toward the house, and 
 when they wanted to take her, too, she said that she 
 would walk. Though deathly weak, she managed to 
 reach the house where they had carried Cyril. They 
 gave her a drink of something and she revived. 
 
 It was a Red Cross station, they told her, and the 
 doctor would be here in a moment. But in the mean- 
 while first aid was administered, and at her place at his 
 bedside she saw Cyril struggling faintly back to life. 
 
 "He will not die," she repeated quietly when the sur- 
 geon had examined him gravely. 
 
 "I hope not but he's bled a good deal. We'll sec." 
 320
 
 HEADQUARTERS 
 
 They cut away his coat and wanted to send her 
 away, but she pleaded to remain and in a moment she 
 heard Cyril's voice whispering hoarsely "Papers 
 coat pocket Sir John French." 
 
 "All right," said the surgeon cheerfully. "We'll see 
 to that." 
 
 "Doris." 
 
 "Here, Cyril." 
 
 "Rippin' fine of you no mistake old girl " 
 
 His whisper trailed off into silence and at the sur- 
 geon's orders they led her away from his cot, but she 
 would not leave the room until she got the papers out 
 of the pocket of his jacket. An orderly led her to a 
 young officer with his arm in a sling who sat at a table 
 in another part of the building. He listened to her 
 story attentively and read the documents carefully, his 
 lips as he read emitting a thin whistle. He glanced 
 at his watch and for a moment left the room. 
 
 "It is arranged. You shall go," he said when he 
 came back. "A machine will be here in a moment." 
 He paused, examining her doubtfully. She was spat- 
 tered with grease and oil, but the pallor of her face be- 
 neath its grime showed that her strength was near its 
 end. "Wouldn't you trust those dispatches to me? 
 It's ten miles to headquarters and rough." 
 
 "No no, I will go. I promised." 
 
 But he ordered some hot coffee and bread, and thus 
 fortified, when the motor came around she was driven 
 upon her way. The young officer sat beside her, eagerly 
 listening, while she gave him a brief outline of their 
 adventures. 
 
 "Amazin'I" he said from time to time. "Most 
 amazin' !" 
 
 And then as she went on, he said quietly: 
 321
 
 "You're goin' on your nerve, I think. Better save 
 your strength until we get to headquarters. It isn't 
 far now." 
 
 She tried to keep silent, but it seemed as though she 
 must go on talking. That seemed to give her strength 
 to complete her task, for when she sank back in her 
 seat and tried to relax she only grew weak thinking of 
 Cyril lying back there, hovering between life and death. 
 And then she heard herself saying aloud, "He will not 
 die. He has gone through too much to die now." 
 
 The man beside her glanced down at her and smiled 
 gently. 
 
 "No, he isn't going to die. Bullets don't kill nowa- 
 days unless they kill at once." 
 
 "Yes yes," she assented. "That's it. If he had 
 been going to die, he would have been dead now, 
 wouldn't he?" 
 
 She laid her hand eagerly on the young officer's arm 
 and he put his hand over hers. 
 
 "Palmerston is the best surgeon along this part of 
 the line. He'll pull him through. Don't you worry." 
 
 "I won't I'll try not to you're awfully kind. 
 Would you mind telling me your name?" 
 
 "Jackson. Second Leinster Dragoons. And yours?" 
 
 "Mather Doris Mather. I I don't want to forget 
 your name. You've been very good to understand 
 everything so perfectly." 
 
 "Oh, it's nothing. There are reasons I'm on Head- 
 quarters Staff, you know." 
 
 That was one reason. But another one was that 
 there was a girl at home just as much worried over 
 his wound as Miss Mather was over Hammersley's. 
 
 They passed from the rough roads between gates 
 into a smoother one which was bordered with poplars. 
 
 322
 
 HEADQUARTERS 
 
 At the end in front of her she saw lights and reached a 
 doorway, where an orderly opened the door of the ma- 
 chine and saluted her companion. Their arrival, it 
 seemed, was expected. Captain Jackson took her by 
 the arm and led her indoors, for her courage or her 
 nerves seemed to be failing her again, down a quiet 
 hall into a room where an officer with a gray mustache 
 sat before a lighted lamp at a table covered with pa- 
 pers. She recognized him at once from the many por- 
 traits that had appeared in the weekly papers. He 
 spoke to her and she tried to reply, but she could not. 
 She seemed only to have strength enough to thrust the 
 papers forward into his hand, when her knees gave way 
 under her and she sank in a heap upon the floor. 
 
 Gentle hands lifted her and laid her upon a couch in 
 the corner of the room. She tried to get up, but could 
 not. She heard the voices of the officers in the room 
 as from a great distance, and then a woman came and 
 two men carried her upstairs and put her to bed. She 
 realized that she was talking incoherently of Cyril, of 
 the Yellow Dove. They gave her something to drink 
 and her nerves grew mysteriously quiet. She seemed 
 to be sailing smoothly through the air higher, higher 
 Cyril's fingers were pointing upward. She was tip- 
 ping the wheel toward her ever toward her, and they 
 rose higher. They had reached the region of contin- 
 uous and perfect day. Cyril turned his head and 
 looked at her, and then he smiled. 
 
 
 
 It was broad daylight when she awoke, for the sun- 
 shine was streaming in at the window. A woman sat 
 near her, knitting. She was an old woman of many 
 wrinkles, kindly wrinkles which seemed to vie with one 
 another to express placidity. As Doris rose in her 
 
 323
 
 THE YELLOW DOFE 
 
 bed the old woman rose, too, and came forward briskly, 
 speaking in French. 
 
 "Ah, Mademoiselle is awake. Bon. She is feeling 
 better?" 
 
 "Yes, better but a little tired." And then, as she 
 realized where she was, "Could you tell me ? Gen- 
 eral French could I see him?" 
 
 "All is well, mademoiselle. Monsieur le General he 
 is not here now. But he will be back after a while. He 
 will see you, then, but first it is proper that you have 
 breakfast and a bath. Mademoiselle needs a bath I 
 think." 
 
 Doris glanced at her hand, which lay upon the white 
 coverlid. It was black. "Yes, I will bathe. But first 
 will you tell me ?" 
 
 The old woman smiled as she interrupted, "I was to 
 tell you that Monsieur yonder is better. That is what 
 Mademoiselle wished to know, is it not?" 
 
 Doris sank back upon her pillow in a silence which 
 gave the full measure of her joy. Cyril would recover. 
 She had been sure of it. She had told them last night. 
 God was good. 
 
 The news gave her strength, and the coffee and eggs 
 that were brought revived her rapidly. Her nerves 
 still trembled in memory of what they had passed 
 through, but when she was bathed and dressed in clean 
 linen garments, much too large for her, a surgeon 
 brought her medicine, and what was better than medicine, 
 news that Cyril was conscious and was asking for her. 
 
 But they would not let her go to him. Tomorrow 
 perhaps. Meanwhile the doctor would be glad to take 
 a message. Doris colored gently. The message that 
 she would have liked to send was not to be transmitted 
 by this means. 
 
 324
 
 HEADQUARTERS 
 
 "Tell him," she said at last quietly, "that I am well 
 and that I will see him when I have permission to 
 do so." 
 
 The officer smiled, gave some directions to the old 
 woman and went out. 
 
 It was not until late in the afternoon, when dressed 
 in her own garments, which had been carefully cleansed 
 and brushed by her nurse, that she was admit- 
 ted to the office of the Field Marshal. She was shown 
 into his room and he greeted her with unmistakable 
 cordiality, offering her the chair next his own and con- 
 gratulating her warmly upon the success of her achieve- 
 ment and Cyril's. 
 
 "You know," he asked quietly, "the contents of these 
 documents ?" 
 
 "Yes. Their importance made it necessary that I 
 should." 
 
 "Then of course you realize the necessity for the 
 utmost secrecy?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 The General smiled at her and brought forward a 
 copy of a recent issue of the London Times. 
 
 "Did you know that for the past three days England 
 has actually stopped criticizing me to talk about you?" 
 
 "About me?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes, read," he said smiling, and she took the paper 
 from him, skimming the headings of a news item he 
 pointed out to her: 
 
 MISS MATHER STILL MISSING. 
 
 MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE STILL UNACCOUNTED 
 
 FOR. 
 
 LADY HEATHCOTE TELLS STRANGE STORY. 
 
 JOHN RIZZIO, THE FAMOUS COLLECTOR, A GERMAN 
 
 SPY. 
 
 325
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 And then in the news item below : 
 
 Allison Mather, of Ashwater Park, believing that his 
 daughter is still alive, today offered a reward of five 
 thousand pounds to anyone 
 
 She stopped reading and put the paper down. 
 
 "Poor Daddy !" she whispered. "O Sir John, will you 
 let him know ?" 
 
 "I have already done so, child. He knows that you 
 are safe." And then with a laugh, "The five thousand 
 pounds I think are mine. I need a new hospital 
 corps." 
 
 "Oh, he'll give it, I'm sure." 
 
 "You promise?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 He took her hand and rose in the act of dismissal. 
 "We have supper at six. I hope you will be able to 
 join us." 
 
 "But, General ' She paused at the door. 
 
 He smiled at her softly. 
 
 "If all goes well you shall see him tomorrow." 
 
 She colored prettily. Everyone seemed to know, but 
 she didn't care. The world, in spite of its terrors, was 
 a garden of roses to Doris. 
 
 
 
 She did not see Cyril the next day or the one follow- 
 ing. His temperature had risen, and while the danger 
 of a relapse was not acute, they thought it safer that 
 she be kept away. She had worried, fearing the worst, 
 but the frankness of the head surgeon reassured her. 
 The bullet had drilled through him, just scraping the 
 lung. He would recover. But why take a chance of 
 complication when all was going well? There was no 
 
 326
 
 HEADQUARTERS 
 
 reply to that, so Doris waited at headquarters, thank- 
 ful and trying to be patient, sending two penciled 
 scrawls which were delivered to the wounded man. 
 
 It was not until three days later that she received 
 word that she would be permitted to see him. His cot 
 had been carried into a small room at the front of the 
 building, and she entered it timidly, the nurse, with a 
 smile and a glance at her watch, both of which were elo- 
 quent, withdrawing. He was propped up on pillows, 
 and though pale from the loss of blood, greeted her 
 with his old careless smile. She sank into the chair 
 by the side of the bed and caught his hand to her 
 lips. 
 
 "O Cyril," she murmured. "Cyril, I'm so glad. But 
 I knew you wouldn't die you couldn't after getting 
 safely through everything else." 
 
 "Die ! Well, hardly. I'm right as rain. Jolly close 
 shootin' that of Rizzio's, though. Pity he had to go 
 that way." 
 
 She hid her face in her hands. 
 
 "Don't! Let's forget him." And then, "Have you 
 suffered much?" 
 
 "No. The bally thing burns a bit now and then 
 but the worst of it is, they won't let a chap smoke." 
 
 She laughed and he caught her hand closer. 
 
 "How did you do it, Doris? How did you?" he 
 questioned. 
 
 "I had to, Cyril," she said. "It wasn't anything 
 except knowing where to come down. That bothered 
 me. I guessed at Ypres. The rest was luck." 
 
 "More than luck, old girl. Just courage and intelli- 
 gence. I felt myself failin', up there, but I saw you 
 knew your way about and then I I seemed to go to 
 sleep. Silly of me, wasn't it?" 
 
 S37
 
 THE YELLOW DOVE 
 
 "Silly! You fainted, Cyril." 
 
 "Rotten time to faint." 
 
 "You might have died up there. Once I thought you 
 had died. Oh, that dreadful moment ! I wanted to go, 
 too with you. I was a little mad, I think. I wanted 
 to take you in my arms and go with you down down. 
 My hands even left the wheel. The Yellow Dove top- 
 pled but I caught her." 
 
 "Poor child !" 
 
 "After that I seemed to grow all cold with reason 
 and skill. I forgot you. I looked beyond, over 
 your poor head. I had to succeed, Cyril that was 
 all." 
 
 His hand pressed hers tenderly. 
 
 "You're the only girl in the world who could do it. 
 
 I'm glad proud " He broke off. "My word, 
 
 Doris ! There's no use tryin' to tell you what I think 
 of you. I'm no good at that sort of thing." 
 
 "I understand. You're just yourself. That's 
 enough for me." 
 
 "You were a trump up there in the Thorwald to 
 stay with poor old Udo, but I had to go. It was the 
 only way. I never thought we'd make it." 
 
 "But we did." 
 
 "You did. It was the Dove, Doris the good old 
 Dove. Isn't she a ripper?" 
 
 "I never had a fear once she rose. How did you 
 happen " 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 "It was to be a surprise. I'd been workin' on her 
 for a year tryin' her out on the moors. Nobody 
 knew until the war came and then I told Udo, who 
 told von Stromberg. I tried a flight to Windenberg and 
 made it comfortably. Awf'ly easy thing. I stayed at 
 
 328
 
 HEADQUARTERS 
 
 Windenberg in October, flyin' over the English lin, 
 droppin' bombs." 
 
 "That was where you were !" 
 
 "But I never hit anythin'. Wouldn't do, you know. 
 Then when I came back I told the War Office. They 
 sent me for the papers. You know the rest." 
 
 "O Cyril, I'm so glad it's all over. You'll go to 
 England now and rest." 
 
 "For a while." And then, "Will you marry me, 
 Doris? Soon?" 
 
 "Yes," she said softly. "Whenever you want me." 
 
 "Here? Now?" 
 
 "But, Cyril " 
 
 "There's a parson chap about here somewhere. I 
 saw him browsin' in here the other day." 
 
 "Isn't it a little " 
 
 "Say you will, there's a dear." 
 
 "Yes, if you wish it. But " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Clothes." 
 
 "Nonsense. You're jolly handsome in those togs 
 handsome no end," he repeated. "Marry me tomor- 
 row, Doris. There's a dear." 
 
 She leaned her face down upon his hand. 
 
 "We're already married, Cyril. Up there I felt it. 
 Even death couldn't have separated us." 
 
 "Thank God! Kiss me, Doris." She obeyed. 
 
 "I'll see Jackson," he whispered. "He'll manage it. 
 Resourceful chap, Jackson. He'll get us a chaplain 
 like pullin' a rabbit out of a hat." 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 "I don't suppose I'd ever have known you, Cyril, 
 over there in England. You always did wonderful 
 things carelessly, Cyril." 
 
 329
 
 "But not this wonderful thing- " and he kissed 
 
 her. 
 
 "It is a wonderful thing," she whispered. "So won- 
 derful that I wonder if it can be true." 
 
 "I'll prove it to you " 
 
 But she had straightened and kissed his hand. 
 
 "No more now I mustn't stay. I hear them in the 
 hall." 
 
 "Tomorrow?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Jackson?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The nurse knocked discreetly and entered. "Five 
 minutes. I'm sorry." 
 
 "So am I," said Hammerslej^ with a sigh. 
 
 Three weeks later they stood side by side at the rail 
 of the Channel boat on the way to Ashwater Park for 
 the parental blessing. The shores of France were al- 
 ready purple in the distance. They had looked upon 
 Death with eyes that did not fear, but the sight of it 
 together had made the bond of their fealty and tender- 
 ness the stronger. There was a sadness in his look and 
 she knew instinctively of what he was thinking. 
 
 "Germany, Cyril," she said aloud. "I love it because 
 a part of it is you. But I love England more, because 
 it is you." 
 
 Hammersley watched the receding shores beyond the 
 vessel's wake, her hand in his. 
 
 "They're followin' false gods, Doris. Gods of steel 
 and brass !" 
 
 "They must fall, Cyril." 
 
 "They will." And then, "But you can't help ad- 
 mirin' the beggars ! Poor old Udo !" 
 
 330
 
 HEADQUARTERS 
 
 "I think about him, Cyril. D you think ke got 
 away ?" 
 
 "Well, rather! I cut his bonds with a huntin' knife 
 before we went down." 
 
 She looked up into his face in amazement. "You 
 dared do that?" He laughed. 
 
 "You wouldn't have let him be more generous than 
 me." 
 
 "And he let us go?" 
 
 "He didn't think we could go. He left things to Des- 
 tiny." 
 
 "Good old Udo !" she repeated. And then dreamily, 
 "Destiny ! You were not meant to die, Cyril." 
 
 "Not yet." He said slowly : "But I must go back 
 over there, Doris." 
 
 She shivered a little and drew closer to him. 
 
 "Yes, I know," she said. "But you've earned " 
 
 "I couldn't ever earn what I've got," he broke in 
 quickly. 
 
 "Nor I " 
 
 "I'm not much of a chap at pretty speeches and all 
 that sort of thing, but you're a rare one, you know, 
 the rummiest sort of a rare one the kind a chap 
 dreams about but never gets and yet I've got you 
 Oh, hang it all, Doris," he broke off helplessly. "You 
 know " 
 
 She smiled at him and slipped her arm through his. 
 
 "Yes, I know," she said. 
 
 "Good old Doris," he muttered. "Silly ass, aren't 
 I?" 
 
 But she wouldn't admit that. 
 
 (16)
 
 FOUR TIMELY BOOKS OF 
 INTERNATIONAL IMPORTANCE 
 
 I ACCUSE (J' ACCUSE f) By a German. A Scathing 
 Arraignment of the German War Policy. 
 
 At this vital time in the nation's history every patriotic American 
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 Learn how the German masses were deluded with the idea that 
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 Let the author of this illuminating book again show the sacrilege 
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 PAN-GERMANISM. By Roland G. Usher. 
 
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 THE CHALLENGE OF THE FUTURE. By Roland 
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 A glance into America's future by the man who, in his book'PAN- 
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 the heart of American problems, and more especially because it hits 
 right and left at ideas that have become deep-seated convictions in 
 many American minds. 
 
 THE EVIDENCE IN THE CASE. By James M. 
 Beck, LL. D., Formerly Assistant Attorney-General 
 of the United States, Author of the "War and Hu- 
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 H. Choate-,Late U. S. Ambassador to Great Britain. 
 No work on the War has made a deeper impression throughout 
 the world than "The Evidence in the Case," a calm, dispassionate, 
 but forceful discussion of the moral responsibility for the present 
 war as disclosed by the diplomatic papers. Arnold Bennett says that 
 it "is certainly by far the most convincing indictment of Germany in 
 existence." 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
 
 JACK LONDON'S NOVELS 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. 
 
 JOHN BARLEYCORN. Illustrated by H. T. Dunn. 
 
 This remarkable book is a record of the author's own amazing 
 experiences. This big, brawny world rover, who has been acv 
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 THE VALLEY OF THE MOON. Frontispiece by George Harper. 
 
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 love and marry. They tramp from one end of California to the 
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 BURNING DAYLIGHT. Four illustrations. 
 
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 A SON OF THE SUN. Illustrated by A. O . Fischer and C . W. Ashley. 
 
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 THE CALL OF THE WILD. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin and 
 Charles Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. Hooper. 
 
 A book ot dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits 
 could be. Here is excitement to stir the blood and here is pictur- 
 esque color to transport the reader to primitive scenes, j 
 
 THE SEA WOLF. Illustrated by W. J. Aylward. 
 
 Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious 
 life into the power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A 
 novel of adventure warmed by a beautiful love episode that every 
 reader will hail with delight. 
 WHITE FANG. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull. 
 
 "White Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the 
 frozen north ; he gradually comes under the spell of man's com- 
 panionship, and surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. 
 Thereafter he is man's loving slave. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS', NEW YORK
 
 NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE BY 
 
 WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE 
 
 HANDSOMELY BOUND IN CLOTH. ILLUSTRATED. 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list 
 
 MAVERICKS. 
 
 A tale of the western frontier, where the "rustler," whose dep- 
 redations are so keenly resented by the early settlers of the range, 
 abounds. One of the sweetest love stories ever told.y 
 
 A TEXAS RANGER. 
 
 How a member of the most dauntless border police force carried 
 law into the mesquit, saved the life of an innocent man after a series 
 of thrilling adventures, followed a fugitive to Wyoming, and then 
 passed through deadly peril to ultimate happiness. 
 
 WYOMING. 
 
 In this vivid story of the outdoor West the author has captured 
 the breezy charm of "cattleland," and brings out the turbid life of 
 the frontier with all its engaging dash and vigor. 
 
 RIDGWAY OF MONTANA. 
 
 The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where poli- 
 tics and mining industries are the religion of the country. The 
 political contest, the love scene, and the fine character drawing give 
 this story great strength and charm, t 
 
 BUCKY O'CONNOR, 
 
 Every chapter teems with 'wholesome, stirring adventures, re- 
 plete with the dashing spirit of the border, told with dramatic da? ^ 
 and absorbing fascination of style and plot. 
 
 CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT. 
 
 A story of Arizona; of swift-riding men and daring outlaws; of 
 a bitter feud between cattle-men and sheep-herders. The heroine 
 s a most unusual woman and her love story reaches a culmination 
 chat is fittingly characteristic of the great free West. 
 
 BRAND BLOTTERS. 
 
 A story of the Cattle Range. This story brings out the turbid 
 life of the frontier, with all its engaging dash and vigor, with a charm- 
 ing love interest running through its 320 pages. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
 
 ZANE GREY'S NOVELS 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list 
 
 THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS 
 
 Colored frontispiece by W. Herbert Dtmton. 
 
 Most of the action of this story takes place near the turbulent 
 Mexican border of the present day. A New York society girl buys 
 a ranch which becomes the center of frontier warfare. Her loyal 
 cowboys defend her property from bandits, and her superintendent 
 rescues her when she is captured by them. A surprising climax 
 brings the story to a delightful close. 
 
 DESERT GOLD 
 
 Illustrated by Douglas Duer. 
 
 Another fascinating story of the Mexican border. Two men. 
 lost in the desert, discover gold when, overcome by weakness, they 
 can go no farther. The rest of the story describes the recent uprising 
 along the border, and ends with the finding of the gold which the 
 two prospectors had willed to the girl who is the story's heroine. 
 
 RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE 
 
 Illustrated by Douglas Duer. 
 
 A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when 
 Mormon authority ruled. In the persecution of Jane Withersteen, a 
 rich ranch owner, we are permitted to see the methods employed by 
 the invisible hand of the Mormon Church to break her will. 
 THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN 
 Illustrated with photograph reproductions. 
 
 This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo 
 Jones, known as the preserver of the American bison, across the 
 Arizona desert and of a hunt in ' 'that wonderful country of yellow 
 crags, deep canons and giant pines." It is a fascinating story. 
 
 THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT 
 
 Jacket in color. Frontispiece. 
 
 This big human drama is played in the Painted Desert. A 
 lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love i 
 young New Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands 
 that the girl shall become the second wife of one of the Mormons 
 
 Well, that's the problem of this sensational, big selling story. 
 
 BETTY ZANE 
 
 Illustrated by Louis F. Grant. 
 
 This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beauti- 
 ful young sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers. 
 Life along the frontier, attacks by Indians, Betty's heroic defense 
 of the beleaguered garrison at Wheeling, the burning of the Fort, 
 and Betty's final race for life, make up this never-to-be-forgotten story. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
 
 STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY 
 
 GENE STRATTON-PQRTER 
 
 May b9 had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list 
 
 THE HARVESTER. 
 
 LADDIE. 
 
 Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer. 
 
 This is a bright, cheery tale with the 
 scenes laid in Indiana. The story is told 
 by Little Sister, the youngest member of 
 a large family, but it is concerned not so 
 much with childish doings as with the love 
 affairs of older members of the family. 
 Chief among them is that of Laddie, the 
 older brother whom Little Sister adores, 
 and the Princess, an English girl who has 
 come to live in the neighborhood and about 
 whose family there hangs a mystery. 
 There is a wedding midway in the book 
 and a double wedding at the close. 
 Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs. 
 
 "The Harvester," David Langston, is a man of. the woods and 
 fields, who draws his living from the prodigal hand of Mother 
 Nature herself. If the book had nothing in it but the splendid figure 
 of this man it would be notable. But when the Gin comes to his 
 "Medicine Woods," and the Harvester's whole being realizes that 
 this is the highest point of life which has come to him- -there begins 
 a romance of the rarest idyllic quality. 
 FRECKLES, Decorations by E. Stetson Crawford. 
 
 Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in 
 which he takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the 
 great Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets 
 him succumbs to the charm of his engaging personality; and his 
 love-story with "The Angel" are full of real sentiment. 
 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST. 
 Illustrated by Wladyslaw T. Brenda. 
 
 The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, lovable 
 type of the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and 
 kindness towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by tlie 
 sheer beauty of her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from 
 barren and unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage 
 AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW. 
 Illustrations in colors by Oliver Kemp. 
 
 The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. 
 The story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing 
 love. The novel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting ol 
 nature, and its pathos and tender sentiment will endear it to all. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NE'W YORK
 
 JOHN FOX, JR'S. 
 
 STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Qrosset and Dunlap's list. < 
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE. 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 The "lonesome pine" from -which the 
 story takes its name was a tall tree that 
 stood in solitary splendor on a mountain 
 top. The fame of the pine lured a young 
 engineer through Kentucky to catch the 
 trail, and when he finally climbed to its 
 shelter he found not only the pine but the 
 foot-prints of a girl. And the girl proved 
 to be lovely, piquant, and the trail of 
 these girlish foot-prints led the young 
 engineer a madder chase than "the trail 
 of the lonesome pine." 
 
 THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "King- 
 dom Come." It is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural 
 and honest, from which often springs the flower of civilization. 
 
 " Chad." the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor 
 whence he came he had just wandered from door to door since 
 early childhood, seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who 
 gladly fathered and mothered this waif about whom there was 
 such a mystery a charming waif, by the way, who could play 
 the banjo better that anyone else in the mountains. 
 
 A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND./ 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland* 
 the lair of moonshiner and f eudsman. The knight is a moon- 
 shiner's son, and the heroine a beautiful girl perversely chris- 
 tened "The Blight." Two impetuous young Southerners' fall 
 under the spell of "The Blight's " charms and she learns what 
 a large part jealousy and pistols have in the love making of the 
 mountaineers. 
 
 Included in this volume is " Hell fer-Sartain" and other 
 stories, some of Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley 
 narratives. 
 
 As)t for comftlett fret list cf G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
 
 CHARMING BOOKS FOR GIRLS 
 
 Kay fca ted wherever books are sold. Ask for Cresset & Dunlap's list 
 
 WHEN PATTY WENT TO COLLEGE, By Jean Webster. 
 Illustrated by C. D. Williams. 
 
 One of the best stories of life in a. girl's college that has ever been 
 written. It is bright, whimsical and entertaining, lifelike, laughable 
 and thoroughly human. 
 
 JUST PATTY, By Jean Webster. 
 
 Illustrated by C. M. Relyea, 
 
 Patty is fall cf the joy of living:, fun-loving, given to ingenious 
 mischief for its own sake, with a disregard for pretty convention which 
 is an unfailing source of joy to her fellows. 
 
 THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL, By Eleanor Gates. 
 
 With four full page illustrations. 
 
 This story relates the experience of one of those unfortunate chil- 
 dren whose early days are passed in the companionship of a governess, 
 seldom seeing either parent, and famishing for natural love and tender- 
 ness. A charming play as dramatized by the author. 
 
 REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM, By Kate Douglas 
 Wiggin. 
 
 One of the most beautiful studies of childhood Rebecca's artistic, 
 unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand out midst a circle of 
 austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenominal 
 dramatic record. 
 
 NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 Additional episodes in the girlhood of this delightful heroine that 
 carry Rebecca through various stages to her eighteenth birthday. 
 
 REBECCA MARY, By Annie Hamilton DonnelL 
 Illustrated by Elizabeth Shippen Green. 
 
 This author possesses the rare gift cf portraying all the grotesque 
 little joys and sorrows and scruples of this very small girl with a pa- 
 thos that is peculiarly genuine and appealing. 
 
 EMMY LOU; Her Book and Heart, By George Madden Martin 
 Illustrated by Charles Louis Ilinton. 
 
 Emmy Lou is irresistibly lovable, because she is so absolutely real 
 She is j ust a bewitchingiy innocent, hugable little maid. The book a 
 wonderfully human. 
 
 Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST.. NEW YORK
 
 May be had wharevir books art sold. Ask fcr Crtcssj t Cinlep's list 
 
 LAVENDER AND OLD LACE. 
 
 A channing story of a quaint corner of 
 New England where bygone romance finds a 
 modern parallel. The story centers round 
 the coming of love to the young people on 
 the staff of a newspaper and it is one of the 
 prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old fash- 
 ioned love stories, * * * a rare book, ex- 
 quisite in spirit and conception, full of 
 delicate fancy, of tenderness, of delightful 
 humor and spontaniety. 
 
 A SPINNER IN THE SUN. 
 
 Miss Myrtle Reed may always be depended upon to write a story 
 in which poetry, charm, tenderness and humor are combined into a 
 clever and entertaining book. Her characters are delightful and she 
 always displays a quaint humor of expression and a quiet feeling of 
 pathos which give a touch of active realism to all her writings. In 
 "A Spinner in the Sun" she tells an old-fashioned love story, of a 
 veiled lady who lives in solitude and whose features her neighbors 
 have never seen. There is a mystery at the heart of the book that 
 throws over it the glamour of romance. 
 
 THE MASTER'S VIOLIN, 
 
 A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old Ger- 
 man virtuoso is the reverent possessor of a genuine "Cremona." He 
 consents to take for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have 
 an aptitude for technique, but not the soul of an artist. The youth 
 has led the happy, careless life of a modem, well-to-do young Amer- 
 ican and he cannot, with his meagre past, express the love, the passion 
 and the tragedies of life and all its happy phases as can the master 
 who has lived life in all its fulness. But a girl comes into his life a 
 beautiful bit of human driftwood that his aunt had taken into her 
 heart and home, and through his passionate love for her, he learns 
 the lessons that life has to give and his soul awakes. 
 
 Founded on a fact that all artists realize. 
 
 Ask for a compete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
 
 B. M. Bower's Novels 
 
 Thrilling Western Romances 
 
 Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated 
 
 CHIP, OF THE FLYING U 
 
 A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and 
 Delia Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip's 
 jealousy of Dr. Cecil Grantham, who turns out to be a big. blue 
 eyed young woman is very amusing. A clever, realistic story of 
 the American Cow-puncher. 
 
 THE HAPPY FAMILY 
 
 A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of 
 eighteen jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst 
 them, we find Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative 
 powers cause many lively and exciting adventures. 
 
 HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT 
 
 A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay parry of Eas- 
 terners who exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeli- 
 ness of a Montana ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the 
 fascinating Beatrice, and the effusive Sir Redmond, become living, 
 breathing personalities. 
 THE RANGE DWELLERS 
 
 __ Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist, 
 spirited action, % range feud between two families, and a Romeo 
 and Juliet courtship make this a bright, jolly, ^entertaining story, 
 without a dull page. 
 THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS 
 
 A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author, 
 among the cowboys of the West, in search of "local color" for a 
 new novel. "Bud' ' Thurston learns many a lesson while following 
 "the lure of the dim trails" but the hardest, and probably the most 
 welcome, is that of love. ^ 
 
 THE LONESOME TRAIL 
 
 "Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where con- 
 ventional city life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, 
 pungent with the atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of 
 a pair of large brown eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome 
 love story, . j -#f 
 
 THE LONG SHADOW 
 
 1 . . **. 
 
 A vigorous Western story, sparkling wifhy. the free, outdoor, 
 life of a mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play 
 the game of life fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from 
 start to finish. 
 
 ' 
 
 Ask for a complete dee list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26-ra ST., NEW YORK
 
 1 HE NOVELS OF 
 
 STEWART EDWARD WHITE 
 
 THE RULES OF THE GAME. Illustrated by Lajaren A. Killer 
 
 The romance of theson of "The Riverman." The young college 
 tierc goes into the lumber camp, is antagonized by "graft" and comes 
 : nto the romance of his life. 
 ARIZONA NIGHTS. Illus. and cover inlay by N. C. Wyeth. 
 
 A series of spirited tales emphasizing some phases of the life 
 of the ranch, plains and desert. A masterpiece. 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL. With illustiations by Thomas Fogarty. 
 
 A wholesome story with gleams of humor, telling of a young 
 man who blazed his way to fortune through the heart of the Mich- 
 igan pines. 
 THE CLAIM JUMPERS. A Romance. 
 
 The tenderfoot manager of a mine in a lonesome gulch of the 
 Black Hills has a hard time of it, but "wins out" in more ways than 
 one. 
 CONJUROR'S HOUSE. Illustrated Theatrical Edition. 
 
 Dramatized under the title of "The Call of the North." 
 
 "Conjuror's House is a Hudson Bay trading post where the 
 head factor is the absolute lord. A young fellow risked his life and 
 won a bride on this forbidden land. 
 THE MAGIC FOREST. A Modern Fairy Tale. Illustrated. 
 
 The sympathetic way in which the children of the wild and 
 tncir life is treated could only belong to one who is in love with the 
 forest and open air. Based on fact 
 THE RIVERMAN. Illus. by N. C. Wyeth and C. Underwood. 
 
 The story of a man's fight against a river and of a struggle 
 between honesty and grit on the one side p and dishonesty and, 
 shrewdness on the other. 
 THE SILENT PLACES. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin. 
 
 The wonders of the northern forests, the heights of feminine 
 oevc'ion, and masculine power, the intelligence of the Caucasian 
 and the instinct of the Indian, are all finely drawn in this story. 
 THE WESTERNERS. 
 
 A story of the Black Hills that is justly placed among the 
 bost American novels. It portrays the life of the new West as nc 
 other book has done in recent years.. 
 
 FHE MYSTERY. In collaboration with Samuel Hopkins Adams 
 With illustrations by Will Crawford. 
 
 The disappearance of three successive crews from the stout 
 hip "Laughing Lass" in mid-Pacific, is a mystery weird and inscrut- 
 v ble. In the solution, there is a story of the mojt exciting voyage 
 that man ever undertook. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP^ 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
 
 A 000126889 5