"
For some time she remained pensive.
"You are thinking of something, Mademoiselle."
"Do you like adventure?"
"I subsist on it."
"You have been a soldier; you are, then, familiar with the use
of arms?"
"They tell me so," modestly. What was coming?
"I have some influence. May I trust you?"
"On my honor," puzzled, yet eager.
"There may be a comic opera, as you call it. War is not so
impossible as to be laughed at. The dove may fly away and the
ravens come."
"Who in thunder might this woman be?" he thought.
"And," went on the Veil, "an extra saber might be used. Give me
your address, in case I should find it necessary to send for you."
Now Maurice was a wary youth. Under ordinary circumstances he
would have given a fictitious address to this strange sybil with
the prophecy of war; for he had accosted her only in the spirit
of fun. But here was the key which he had been seeking, the key
to all that had brought him to Bleiberg. Intrigue, adventure, or
whatever it was, and to whatever end, he plunged into it. He
drew out a card case, selected a card on which he wrote "Room 12,
Continental," and passed it over the table.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127