of the Duchess in favor of one who whatever her political sins in
Germany's eyes, had made endless sacrifices to atone.

If Marishka succeeded! But if she failed?

The morning was too wonderful for thoughts of grim deeds or the authors
of them. The poisons distilled in her mind the night before were
dispelled into the clear air of the mountainside, over which singing
streams gushed joyously down. Birds were calling--mating; wild creatures
scampered playfully in thicket and hedge; and the peaceful valleys were
redolent of sweet odors.

In the long hours of the afternoon Marishka's thoughts were of Hugh
Renwick. Perspective had given him a finer contour, for she had Goritz
to compare him with. She loved Hugh. She knew now how much. Her
happiness had been too sweet to have had such a sudden ending. She had
been unkind--cruel--broken with him even when he was bending every
effort to aid her. He was trying to help her now for all that she
knew.... She had written him a note from the German Embassy--just a few
lines which she had enclosed with the message to her maid at the
apartment--warning him that he was in danger and praying that he leave
the country and return to England, a kindly note which by its anxiety
for his safety conveyed perhaps more of what was in her heart than she
would have cared to write had she believed that she was to see him
again.

What reason had Captain Goritz for believing that Hugh would follow her
in this mad quest? How could Hugh be sure where she had gone and with
whom? There had been a quality of the miraculous in the judgment of
Captain Goritz. What if even now Hugh Renwick were near her? Her pulse
went a little faster. Pride--the pride which asks in vain--for a while
had been dashed low, and she had scorned him with her eyes, her voice,
her mien, her gestures, all, alas! but her heart. The women of the house
of Strahni----! Hugh Renwick had kissed her. And the memory of those
kisses amid the red roses of the Archduke was with her now. She felt
them on her lips--the touch of his firm strong fingers--the honest gaze
of his gray eyes--these were the tokens she had which came to her as
evidence that the readings of her heart had not been wrong. A Serbian
spy----! She smiled confidently.

In a moment she stole a glance at Captain Goritz, who was bent forward
studying his road map. She waited until he gave directions to the
chauffeur and then spoke.

"Captain Goritz," she said carelessly, "