contemplate. And yet Renwick decided that before he made
the rash attempt to mount the cliff he must further investigate. And so
he lay silent until nightfall when with drawn automatic he emerged from
his hiding place and quietly made his way along the mountain side. He
searched the undergrowth eagerly, as a man only can when his life
depends upon the keenness of his senses, and without mishap reached a
point opposite the castle where he commanded both the courtyard and the
mass of buildings around the central tower. The distance across the
narrow gorge at this side of the castle was perhaps two or three hundred
yards, and Renwick from the shelter of a bush could see the windows
quite distinctly. As the night grew dark two lights appeared--both, he
noted, upon the side of the buildings toward where he sat--lights which
could not be visible from the deeper, wider valley upon the other side
or from the road below. He saw figures moving--the small bent figure of
a woman in the building upon the left which seemed to be the kitchen, a
man in the courtyard near the gate which Renwick had seen from the other
side. The room upon the right near the keep, seemed to be the Hall, for
the windows were longer than any others and denoted a high ceiling
within. There was a light here too, and Renwick watched the windows, his
heart beating high with hope. In his anxiety to see who was within the
apartment he forgot the strangers upon the mountain side, the danger of
his position, the hazardous feat before him--all but the hope that
Marishka was here.

He had almost given up hope of seeing her when she appeared. He knew her
instantly, though he could not easily distinguish her features. She sat
in a chair at a table, conversing with some one whom he could not see.
A pang of jealousy shot through him. Goritz--!

What if believing him dead Marishka had learned to tolerate the German
agent, even to the point of friendship. There they were, sitting face to
face at table, as they had done for two months or more. What were their
relations? Prisoner and captive? And which was which? How could he have
blamed Marishka,--Renwick, a dead man?

He knew that she had grieved, that she must have hated the man who had
done him to death--perhaps still hated him as Renwick did. He peered at
the fragment of Marishka's white dress, the only part of her that was
visible to him, and upbraided himself for his unworthy thoughts of her.

And when the dead cam