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retreat.
    Indeed, what danger there was lay in the streets we must use, and I think we should have done better to leave the car at the station when once she was off the truck: but, as I have shown, we had had no time for reflection, and when one is using shock tactics it is easy enough to be carried away oneself.
    ‘But we needn’t all go,’ said George. ‘In fact it’s far better that I should appear alone. Where shall I drop you and Bell? And where shall we meet?’
    This conclusion was plainly sound. Bell and I could do nothing, for George, who could speak like a German, must play the hand. The question was where we could shelter the livelong day.
    I think our late misadventure must have disordered my wits, for not until then did I suddenly see the folly of wasting the hours which had fallen clean into our lap.
    We had come to help Madame Dresden, and here we were at her gates a full day before our time.
    ‘Go by the Lessing Strasse,’ I said. ‘It’s sure to be empty now, and Bell and I can go over the garden wall.’
    ‘Of course,’ said George. ‘And with luck I should be with you in a quarter of an hour.’
    Danger is a curious thing, and I have often proved that the ground which one seeks to avoid may be crossed in safety, while the quarter one has never suspected is the covert of Peril itself.
    All the way we saw but one policeman, and he was busy discussing the size of some fruit: no notice was paid to our passing, and we met with no sort of check: the Lessing Strasse was empty except for a watering-cart; and Bell and I were within the Countess’ garden before George was out of the street.
    I did not like his going to the palace, still less his going alone, but, recalling his success at the station, I felt that his wit could be trusted to bring him safe through. He would then have to walk half a mile by the riverside, but, since it was not yet eight, I could not believe that he would be so unlucky as to meet with someone that knew him in those ten minutes of time.
    I, therefore, gave my attention to the back of the house, for though Madame Dresden might be gone, her servants knew me by sight and I was depending on finding some one of them there. Indeed, if the house was empty I did not know what we should do, for I knew no other source of which we could make inquiry with any hope of success.
    The heavy shutters were closed and this had an ominous look, but since the weather was hot and the rooms faced south, I hoped very hard that the windows they hid were open and the shutters themselves but fastened against the heat of the day.
    Desiring to learn the truth, I bade Bell stay under cover and crossed the lawn, for the garden was very private and not at all overlooked.
    I had left the grass and the gravel surrounding the house and was halfway up the steps which led to the terrace, when, as though by magic, the shutters of the salon were parted, and a man stepped on to the terrace, duster in hand.
    It was the Countess’ butler.
    For a moment we stared at each other. Then—
    ‘Good morning, Carol,’ I said. ‘Where is Madame?’
    ‘Madame is abed, sir.’
    I thought very fast.
    ‘Is the salon empty?’ I said. ‘I’d like to write her a note, but I must not be seen.’
    He found me paper and pencil and stood to the door.
    I wrote as fast as I could.
     
    Dear Marya,
    Carol knows I am here, but no one else. Walk in the garden before breakfast – as soon as you can.
     
    Richard Chandos.
     
    As I sealed the envelope—
    ‘Madame must have this at once, Carol.’
    ‘Immediately, sir. I shall tell her maid that I found it beneath the front door.’
    ‘That’s right.’
    As I stepped on to the terrace, he left the room.
    I was upon the edge of descending the steps when the clack of shutters thrown open came to my ears.
    I shrank back instantly. I had put my faith in Carol, but I had no mind to put it in anyone else.
    As I stood waiting, I heard more shutters opened and then the flick of a duster