LITMIR.BIZ

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we neither of us had the slightest idea where he actually was,” Patricia pointed out eagerly. “It was absolutely necessary, until he could reach a place of safety, that no one should know his whereabouts. As soon as that time arrived he promised to write to us. We have had not a line, but as every letter that arrived here was censored, it seemed a hopeless task to get in touch with anyone.”

      “When disaster first came,” Blute went on, “we had three hopes. One was that we should hear from Mr. Benjamin, that he would get a letter through to us somehow or other notwithstanding the censorship; the second was that the Benjamin Hospital, with a foundation from him which brought them in the equivalent of a quarter of a million dollars a year, would let us have the sum we needed to complete our obligations to Mr. Benjamin, and the third hope—it was the slimmest of all—was that we might some day or other come across a friend passing through Vienna.”

      “Nothing so wonderful as this, though, ever entered into our dreams,” Patricia murmured.

      “Well, that’s a very clear explanation of everything that has happened,” Charles pronounced. “It has been a horrible time for both of you. Now tell me this—I have made a wild guess. Am I right? The work you undertook for your Chief—had it anything to do with getting all his pictures and wonderful possessions out of Vienna?”

      They were both silent.

      “That was just what it was,” Blute said hoarsely after a moment’s pause. “We came so near success—”

      “You didn’t succeed, then?”

      There was a long and melancholy silence. Blute was shaking his head sadly. Patricia sat with her hands folded in front of her and it seemed to Charles that she was going through some sort of inward struggle. When at last she spoke it was as though the three words she uttered were tearing at her very heartstrings.

      “No,” she confessed. “We failed.”

      There was a knock at the door of the salon. The waiter entered. He indicated a chambermaid who was waiting outside.

      “The young woman has come,” he announced, “to fetch the Fräulein who was dining here and who has a room on the other side of the hotel. It is a little difficult to find without help.”

      Patricia rose to her feet. She held out her hands to her host.

      “Mr. Mildenhall,” she said, “Charles, if you wish it—there are no words I can use to thank you. I go to bed without fear, almost happy for the first time for months. It is all your doing.”

      “‘Almost’ happy?” he repeated.

      She nodded.

      “If you knew the difference between now and last night,” she said smiling, “you would not worry about the ‘almost.’”

      “When can we meet to-morrow?”

      “I do not know,” she answered thoughtfully. “I must see Mr. Blute, but I am too weary to talk any more to-night.”

      “Come and have your coffee and rolls with me here in the morning,” he begged. “The chambermaid who looks after you will bring you along. I will be ready at nine o’clock.”

      “You wish it?”

      “I do seriously,” he insisted.

      He led her towards the door.

      “I wish it,” he repeated, “and I am determined also to know the meaning of that ‘almost.’”

      The light faded from her face. She shook her head.

      “That,” she said, “I shall not tell you just yet. It is not for you to know. Be satisfied with thinking what you have done for us, the misery from which you have snatched poor Mr. Blute and me. Apart from all of which,” she added, “I shall tell you this—”

      She grasped his hand tightly. Suddenly she raised his fingers to her lips and kissed them.

      “You are the sweetest Good Samaritan,” she cried, “the most wonderful and most tactful who ever brought a poor girl back into life!”

      Her feet seemed to have recovered some of their old grace and lightness. She was across the room in a moment. She waved her hand and disappeared with the chambermaid.

      CHAPTER XIII

       Table of Contents

      Marius Blute had risen to his feet when Charles returned to his easy chair. The latter waved him back again.

      “Sit down and finish your cigar,” he invited. “That is, unless you are tired.”

      “I am no longer tired,” Blute said. ‘T am a strong man, really. No man could have gone through what I went through in prison unless he had a sound constitution. Wine and good food were what I needed. I am myself again. But I must not keep you up.”

      “My dear fellow,” Charles protested, “does anyone ever go to bed in Vienna before midnight? If you were not here I should only go out to a café. Remember, I have only heard just a sketch of your adventures.”

      “It is difficult,” Blute reflected, “to explain everything.”

      “Could you tell me this?” Charles asked. “What was the meaning of that ‘almost’ in Miss Grey’s farewell speech? She had been looking so radiantly happy all the evening. Now just a little of the cloud seems to have come back.”

      “If I were to tell you what I think,” Blute said thoughtfully, “I believe that she would be very angry with me.”

      “There is something that still troubles her, then?”

      “There is something.”

      “Is there anything more I could do?” Charles asked bluntly.

      “Nothing that I could ask you,” Blute replied, “nothing that either of us has the faintest right to ask you to do.”

      “Look here, Blute,” Charles confided, “I’ll let you into a secret. I am very fond of Miss Grey.”

      “That is no secret,” was the other’s quiet comment.

      “I dare say not,” Charles observed smiling. “To tell you the truth,” he went on, “I really didn’t know it myself. I thought Miss Grey was very charming and all that, but it wasn’t until I saw her to-night in that horrible place and saw how ill and miserable she looked, and realized how she must have suffered—well, it wasn’t until then, anyhow, that I suddenly discovered I was very, very fond of her. I believe that if she realized how fond, she’d have explained that ‘almost.’”

      “I think I know what Miss Grey meant. Our re-establishment, which has come about entirely due to your kindness, has reminded us that our task is not complete.”

      “Well,” Charles pointed out, “I am still here, still at your service. How can I help you further?”

      “It is not fair,” Blute said, moving uneasily in his place, “to invite you into an adventure in which you have everything to lose and nothing to gain. More especially Miss Grey will feel this because you have just about saved our lives in so charming a manner.”

      “Absurd!” Charles declared lightly. “All that I have done has been a pleasure to me. Don’t think that I have finished with you, my friend Blute. There is the question of funds to settle. I can help you there—you and Miss Grey. It is impossible for you to get at your money—I mean your own money apart from what you have been robbed of. I can get at all I want without difficulty. Tell me frankly, beyond getting you out of the country what do you need money for? Is it possible that you still have a hope of saving any of Mr. Benjamin’s glorious collection?”

      Blute was on his feet. Excitement gleamed in his

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