road which whirled toward them. She was very
handsome, this dark-haired prisoner of his, and the personal note that
had fallen into her speech made their relations at once more easy and
more difficult.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I shall not break it, Captain Goritz."

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

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

CHAPTER IX

CAPTAIN GORITZ

At Iglau, a town, as Marishka afterwards learned, inhabited largely by
Germans, they stopped to replenish the petrol tank. But Captain Goritz
wore a deep frown when he got into the seat with the chauffeur, who
immediately started the car. They were off again.

What this action portended Marishka could not know, nor could she