Pray for a Brave Heart Read Online Free PDF Page B

sample of insidious American imperialism like the boy Gustav’s “Sure” and “Plenty.” Denning almost smiled.
    The man closed the windows, and passed near the tableto reach the door. He held out the two discarded plants for inspection, as if to justify himself.
    To Denning, they looked as fresh as the geraniums which had been carried in. “Yes,” he said gravely, “they certainly would have ruined the hotel.”
    The man nodded, and continued quietly on his way. He opened the door with surprising swiftness. The second door lay wide open, and the maid who liked to run baths ahead of time was just outside. The bedroom door closed firmly.
    Denning stared at it, frowning. There had been nothing wrong with the geraniums. He was suddenly sure of that. Warned, he looked down at the table where the man had halted. A neatly folded note lay beside his pack of cigarettes. He laid his hand over them both as the door opened once again.
    “Didn’t you learn to knock before entering?” he asked the maid sharply. “What is it now?”
    “I did knock, sir,” the maid said most politely. “I was just checking up. Michel makes such a mess.” She bustled to the window.
    “Then clear it up later,” Denning said. He jammed the small note inside the half-empty pack of cigarettes.
    “Yes, sir.” But she had checked on the window-boxes and the signs of planting. She glanced at the table as she turned back to face the room. Denning was lighting a cigarette. He didn’t look at her. He said angrily, “Shut that door. And keep it shut. Both doors. Can you remember that?”
    “Yes, sir.” She was nervous now, and impressed: he was not only angry, but honestly indignant. “Shall I remove the table now, sir, so that Gustav won’t bother you with that?”
    Denning nodded and rose, throwing one edge of the bathtowel carelessly over his shoulder. “What did the Romans use for pockets?” he wondered aloud.
    “Please?” But she had noted his hands were as empty as the slipping folds of his towel. He lifted cigarettes and lighter as she wheeled the table away, and tossed them carelessly on top of the dressing-table. He was opening his suitcase, shaking out a tweed jacket and flannels with one hand, holding the towel in place with the other, as the door closed. There was no key in the lock, he noticed. He went on unpacking, letting the towel have its own way now, and there was a good deal of opening of drawers, of moving around, of snatches of whistling. Dressed at last, he found the missing key lying inconspicuously beside the lamp on the bed table. It turned in the lock with a most reassuring click.
    At least, now, he had some peace. And he could open the windows without inviting pleurisy.
    He picked up the half-empty pack of cigarettes, and extracted the small note from its emergency hiding place. For a moment all this excessive caution embarrassed him. And yet, whoever had sent the note hadn’t shown marked trust in either mail clerk or chamber-maid.
    He smoothed out the many folds of the thin sheet of paper. The handwriting was excited, but the invitation was clear, and the signature, Elizabeth, was ended with rather a schoolgirl flourish. Johann Keppler had enjoyed his invention.
Bill dearest,
    I can hardly wait to see you again. As soon as possible. Tonight? I’ve found a new room — you’ll like it much better than the one we had last time. It’s on the littleHenziplatz, quiet, very romantic. No. 10, one flight up. I’ve got to have dinner with the family this evening (groan!) but I can slip away about ten-thirty. Darling, darling. Isn’t it lovely that spring is here?
    Ever, Elizabeth
    First, Denning thought, Keppler isn’t wasting much time in getting us together. Are we to assemble there—Keppler, Le Brun, and myself—right on the Henziplatz, while Max is meeting Charlie-for-Short over at the Café Henzi itself?
    Next, Denning thought, Max makes a few detours and then doubles back to join us once the café meeting