He saw
how neatly he had been duped. He still carried the note. This he gave to
the leader of this midnight expedition.
"Humph!" said the old man in a growl. "I thought as much." He whispered
to his companions. "Herr Carmichael, I shall have the honor of escorting
you back to Dreiberg."
"But will it be as easy to go in as it was to come out?"
"Trust you for that. The American consul's word will be sufficient for
our needs."
"And if I refuse to give that word?"
"In that case, you will have to use your legs," curtly.
"I prefer to ride."
"Thanks. I shall sit with the driver."
"That also will please me."
"And you ask no further questions?"
"Why should I? I know all I wish to know, which is more than you would
care to have me."
The mountaineer swore.
"If we talk any longer I shall be late for breakfast."
"Forward, then!"
On the way, it all came back to Carmichael with the vividness of a
forgotten photograph, come upon suddenly: Bonn, the Rhine, swift and
turbulent, a tow-headed young fellow who could not swim well, his own
plunge, his fingers in the flaxen hair, and the hard fight to the
landing; all this was a tale twice told.
Vintner? Not much!
CHAPTER XVI
HER FAN
It was dawn when they began to pull up the road to Dreiberg.
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