by Louis Tracy
CHAPTER XV
A COWARD'S VICTORY
"It is a queer story," said Bower.
"Because it is true," retorted Millicent.
"Yet she never set eyes on the man until she met him here."
"That is rather impossible, isn't it?"
"It is a fact, nevertheless. On the day I arrived in Maloja, a lettercame from the editor of 'The Firefly,' telling her that he had writtento Spencer, whom he knew, and suggested that they should becomeacquainted."
"These things are easily managed," said Millicent airily.
"I accept Miss Wynton's version." Bower spoke with brutal frankness.The morning's tribulation had worn away some of the veneer. He fullyexpected the girl to flare into ill suppressed rage. Then he coulddeal with her as he liked. He had not earned his repute in the cityof London without revealing at times the innate savagery of hisnature. As soon as he had taunted his adversaries into a passion,he found the weak joints in their armor. He was surprised now thatMillicent should laugh. If she was acting, she was acting well.
"It is too funny for words to see you playing the trustful swain," shesaid.
"One necessarily believes the best of one's future wife."
"So you still keep up that pretense? It was a good line in lastnight's situation; but it becomes farcical when applied to lightcomedy."
"I give you credit for sufficient wit to understand why I joined youhere. We can avoid unpleasant explanations. I am prepared to bury thehatchet--on terms."
"Terms?"
"Yes. You are a blackmailer, a somewhat dangerous one. You tempt me torevise the wisest of La Rochefoucauld's maxims, and say that everywoman is at heart a snake. You owe everything to me; yet you are notcontent. Without my help you would still be carrying a banner in thechorus. Unless I continue my patronage, that is what you must go backto. Don't imagine that I am treating with you out of sentiment. ForHelen's sake, for her sake only, I offer a settlement."
Millicent's eyes narrowed a little; but she affected to admire thegleaming beads in a glass of champagne. "Pray continue," she said."Your views are interesting."
There was some danger lest Bower should reverse his wonted procedure,and lose his own temper in this unequal duel. They both spoke in lowtones. Anyone watching them would find the smiles of conventionalityon their lips. To all outward seeming, they were indulging in afriendly gossip.
"Of course, you want money," he said. "That is the be-all andend-all of your existence. Very well. Write a letter to Miss Wyntonapologizing for your conduct, take yourself away from here at threeo'clock, and from St. Moritz by the next train, and I not onlywithdraw my threat to bar you in the profession but shall hand youa check for a thousand pounds."
Millicent pretended to consider his proposal. She shook her head. "Notnearly enough," she said, with a sweetly deprecatory moue.
"It is all you will get. I repeat that I am doing this to spareHelen's feelings. Perhaps I am ill advised. You have done your worstalready, and it only remains for me to crush you. But I stick to thebargain--for five minutes."
"Dear, dear!" she sighed. "Only five minutes? Do you get rid of yourtroubles so quickly? How nice to be a man, and to be able to settlematters with such promptitude."
Bower was undeniably perplexed; but he held to his line. Unwaveringtenacity of purpose was his chief characteristic. "Meanwhile," hesaid, "let us talk of the weather."
"A most seasonable topic. It was altogether novel this morning to wakeand find the world covered with snow."
"If the Maloja is your world, you must have thought it ratherchilling," he laughed.
"Yes, cold, perhaps, but fascinating. I went for a walk. You see, Iwanted to be alone, to think what I should do for the best. A woman isso helpless when she has to fight a big, strong man like you. Chanceled me to the cemetery. What an odd little place it is? Wouldn't youhate to be buried there?"
It was now Millicent's turn to be surprised. Not by the slightesttremor did Bower betray the shock caused by her innuendo. His nerveswere proof against further assault that day. Fear had conquered himfor an instant when he looked into the gate of darkness. With itspassing from before his eyes, his intellect resumed its sway, and heweighed events by that nicely adjusted balance. None but a man whogreatly dared would be sitting opposite Millicent at that moment. Nonebut a fool would have failed to understand her. But he gave no signthat he understood. He refilled his glass, and emptied it with thegusto of a connoisseur.
"That is a good wine," he said. "Sometimes pints are better thanquarts, although of the same vintage. Waiter, another half bottle,please."
"No more for me, of course," murmured Millicent. "I must keep myhead clear,--so much depends on the next five minutes."
"Three, to be exact."
"Ah, then, I must use them to advantage. Shall I tell you more aboutmy early stroll?"
"What time did you go out?"
"Soon after ten o'clock."
"You saw--what?"
"A most exciting struggle--and--what shall I call it?--a ceremony."
Bower was silent for an appreciable time. He watched a waiteruncorking the champagne. When the bottle was placed on the table hepretended to read the label. He was thinking that Stampa's marriageservice was not so futile, after all. It had soon erected its firstbarrier. Millicent, who had qualities rare in a woman, turned andlooked at a clock. Incidentally, she discovered that Spencer wasdevoting some attention to the proceedings at her table. Still Bowerremained silent. She stole a glance at him. She was conscious that anabiding dread was stealing into her heart; but her stage training cameto her aid, and she managed to say evenly:
"My little ramble does not appear to interest you?"
"It does," he said. "I have been arguing the pros and cons of aticklish problem. There are two courses to me. I can either bribeyou, or leave you to your own devices. The latter method implies theinterference of the police. I dislike that. Helen would certainly beopposed to it. I make the one thousand into five; but I want youranswer now."
"I accept," she said instantly.
"Ah, but you are trembling. Queer, isn't it, how thin is the partitionbetween affluence and a prison? There are dozens of men who stand highin commercial circles in London who ought to be in jail. There arequite as many convicts in Portland who reached penal servitude alongprecisely the same road. That is the penalty of being found out. Letme congratulate you. And do try another glass of this excellent wine.You need it, and you have to pack your belongings at once, you know."
"Thank you."
Her eyes sparkled. Her well modulated voice was hardly under control.Five thousand pounds was a great deal of money; but the tragedy ofEtta Stampa's life might have been worth more. How could she find outthe whole truth? She must accomplish that, in some way.
Therein, however, she greatly miscalculated. Bower divined her thoughtalmost before it was formed. "For goodness' sake, let us put things inplain English!" he said. "I am paying you handsomely to save the womanI am going to marry from some little suffering and heartache. Perhapsit is unnecessary. Her fine nature might forgive a man a transgressionof his youth. At any rate, I avert the risk by this payment. The checkwill be payable to you personally. In other words, you must place itto your own account in your bank. Any breach of our contract in letteror spirit during the next two days will be punished by its stoppage.After that time, the remotest hint on your part of any scandalousknowledge affecting me, or Helen, or the causes which led to mypresent weakness in allowing you to blackmail me, will imply theimmediate issue of a warrant for your arrest. Need I explain theposition at greater length?"
"No," said Millicent, who wished now that she had bitten off the endof her tongue before she vented her spleen to the Vavasours and theWraggs.
"On second thoughts," went on Bower unconcernedly, "I forego thestipulation as to a letter of apology. I don't suppose Helen willvalue it. Assuredly, I do not."
The cheapening of her surrender stung more than she counted on. "Ihave tried to avoid
the appearance of uncalled for rudeness to-day,"she blurted out.
"Well--yes. What is the number of your room?"
She told him.
"I shall send the check to you at once. Have you finished?"
He accompanied her to the door, bowed her out, and came back. Smilingaffably, he pulled a chair to Mrs. de la Vere's side.
"I quite enjoyed my luncheon," he said. "You all heard that stupidoutburst of Millicent's last night; so there is no harm in tellingyou that she regrets it. She is leaving the hotel forthwith."
Helen rose suddenly. "She is one of my few friends," she said. "Icannot let her go in anger."
"She is unworthy of your friendship," exclaimed Bower sharply. "Takemy advice and forget that she exists."
"You cannot forget that anyone exists, or has existed," said Spencerquietly.
"What? You too?" said Bower. His eyes sought the American's, andflashed an unspoken challenge.
He felt that the world was a few hundred years too old. There werehistorical precedents for settling affairs such as that now troublinghim by means that would have appealed to him. But he opposed nofurther hindrance to Helen's departure. Indeed, he perceived that hermeeting with Millicent would provide in some sense a test of his ownjudgment. He would soon learn whether or not money would prevail.
He waited a little while, and then sent his valet with the check and arequest for an acknowledgment. The man brought him a scribbled note:
"Was rather taken aback by appearance of H. She says you told her I was leaving the hotel. We fell on each other's neck and wept. Is that right? M. J."
He cut the end off a cigar, lit the paper with a match, and lit thecigar with the paper.
"Five thousand pounds!" he said to himself. "It is a lot of money toone who has none. I remember the time when I would have sold my soulto the devil for half the amount."
But that was not a pleasing notion. It suggested that, by evil hazard,some such contract had, in fact, been made, but forgotten by one ofthe parties to it. So he dismissed it. Having disposed of Stampa andMillicent, practically between breakfast and lunch, there were noreasons why he should trouble further about them. The Americanthreatened a fresh obstacle. He was winning his way with Helenaltogether too rapidly. In the light of those ominous words at theluncheon table his close association with Stampa indicated a definiteknowledge of the past. Curse him! Why did he interfere?
Bower was eminently a selfish man. He had enjoyed unchecked successfor so long a time that he railed now at the series of mischances thattripped the feet of his desires. Looking back through recent days, hewas astonished to find how often Spencer had crossed his path. Beforehe was four hours in Maloja, Helen, in his hearing, had singled outthe American for conjecture and scrutiny. Then Dunston spoke of thesame man as an eager adversary at baccarat; but the promised game wasarranged without Spencer's cooperation, greatly to Dunston's loss. Aman did not act in such fashion without some motive. What was it? Thisreserved, somewhat contemptuous rival had also snatched Helen fromhis company many times. He had undoubtedly rendered some service incoming to the Forno hut; but Bower's own lapse from sanity on thatoccasion did not escape his notice. Finally, this cool mannered, alertyoungster from the New World did not seem to care a fig for any priorclaim on Helen's affections. His whole attitude might be explained bythe fact that he was Stampa's employer, and had won the old guide'sconfidence.
Yes, the American was the real danger. That pale ghost conjured fromthe grave by Stampa was intangible, powerless, a dreamlike wraithevoked by a madman's fancy. Already the fear engendered myopia of themorning was passing from Bower's eyes. The passage of arms withMillicent had done him good. He saw now that if he meant to win Helenhe must fight for her.
Glancing at his watch, he found that the time was a quarter to three.He opened a window in his sitting room, which was situated in thefront of the hotel. By leaning out he could survey the carriage standat the foot of the long flight of steps. A pair-horse vehicle wasdrawn up there, and men were fastening portly dress baskets in thebaggage carrier over the hind wheels.
He smiled. "The pretty dancer travels luxuriously," he thought. "Iwonder whether she will be honest enough to pay her debts with mymoney?"
He still hated her for having dragged him into a public squabble. Helooked to the future to requite him. A year, two years, would soonpass. Then, when funds were low and engagements scarce, she wouldappeal to him again, and his solicitors would reply. He caught himselfframing curt, stinging sentences to be embodied in the letter; but hedrew himself up with a start. Surely there was something very wrongwith Mark Bower, the millionaire, when he gloated over such paltrydetails. Why, his reflections were worthy of that old spitfire, Mrs.de Courcy Vavasour.
His cigar had gone out. He threw it away. It had the taste ofMillicent's cheap passion. A decanter of brandy stood on the table,and he drank a small quantity, though he had imbibed freely ofchampagne at luncheon. He glanced at a mirror. His face was flushedand care lined, and he scowled at his own apparition.
"I must go and see the last of Millicent. It will cheer me up," hesaid to himself.
When he entered the foyer, Millicent was already in the veranda, adainty picture in furs and feathers. Somewhat to his surprise, Helenwas with her. A good many people were watching them covertly, a quitenatural proceeding in view of their strained relations overnight.
"It will paralyze the dowager brigade if we hug each other." _Page 309_]
Millicent's first action after quitting the _salle a manger_ had beento worm out of Leontine the full, true, and particular history of EttaStampa, or so much of the story as was known to the hotel servants.The recital was cut short by Helen's visit, but resumed duringpacking operations, as Millicent had enlarged her store of knowledgeconsiderably during the process of reconciliation.
So, alive to possibilities going far beyond a single check, even forfive thousand pounds, at the last moment she sent a message to Helen.
"Come and see me off," she wrote. "It will simply paralyze the dowager brigade if we hug each other on the mat."
Helen agreed. She was not sorry that her critics should be paralyzed,or stupefied, or rendered incapable in some way of inflicting furtherannoyance. In her present radiant mood, nearly all her troubles havingtaken unto themselves wings, she looked on yesterday's episode in thelight of a rather far fetched joke. Bower stood so high in her esteemthat she was sure the outspoken announcement of his intentions wasdictated chiefly by anger at Millicent's unfair utterances. Perhaps hehad some thought of marriage; but he must seek a wife in a moreexalted sphere. She felt in her heart that Spencer was only awaiting afavorable opportunity to declare his love, and she did not strive torepress the wave of divine happiness that flooded her heart at thethought.
After much secret pondering and some shy confidences intrusted to Mrs.de la Vere, she had resolved to tell him that if he left the Maloja atonce--an elastic phrase in lovers' language--and came to her inLondon next month, she would have an answer ready. She persuadedherself that there was no other honorable way out of an embarrassingposition. She had come to Switzerland for work, not for love making.Spencer would probably wish to marry her forthwith, and that was notto be thought of while "The Firefly's" commission was only halfcompleted. All of which modest and maidenly reasoning left wholly outof account Spencer's strenuous wooing; it is chronicled here merely toshow her state of mind when she kissed Millicent farewell.
It is worthy of note also that two young people who might be expectedto take the liveliest interest in each other's company were steadfastin their determination to separate. Each meant to send the other backto England with the least possible delay, and both were eager to flyinto each other's arms--in London! Whereat the gods may have laughed,or frowned, as the case may be, if they glanced at the horoscopes ofcertain mortals pent within the mountain walls of the Upper Engadine.
While Helen was still gazing after Millicent's retreating carriage,Bow
er came from the darksome foyer to the sunlit veranda. "So youparted the best of friends?" he said quietly.
She turned and looked at him with shining eyes. "I cannot tell you howpleased I am that a stupid misunderstanding should be cleared away!"she said.
"Then I share your pleasure, though, to be candid, I was thinkingthat a woman's kiss has infinite gradations. It may savor of Paradiseor the Dead Sea."
"But she told me how grieved she was that she had behaved sofoolishly, and appealed to me not to let the folly of a day break thefriendship of years."
"Ah! Millicent picks up some well turned sentiments on the stage. Comeout for a little stroll, and tell me all about it."
Helen hesitated. "It will soon be tea time," she said, with a selfconscious blush. She had promised Spencer to walk with him to thechateau; but her visit to Millicent had intervened, and he was not onthe veranda at the moment.
"We need not go far. The sun has garnished the roads for us. What doyou say if we make for the village, and interview Johann Klucker's caton the weather?"
His tone was quite reassuring. To her transparent honesty of purposeit seemed better that they should discuss Millicent's motive in comingto the hotel and then dismiss it for ever. "A most excellent idea,"she cried lightly. "I have been writing all the morning, so a breathof fresh air will be grateful."
They passed down the steps.
They had not gone more than a few paces when the driver of an emptycarriage pulled up his vehicle and handed Bower a telegram.
"They gave it to me at St. Moritz, Herr Bower," he said. "I took amessage there for Herr Spencer, and they asked me to bring this toyou, as it would reach you more quickly than if it came by the post."
Bower thanked the man, and opened the envelop. It was a very longtelegram; but he only glanced at it in the most cursory manner beforeputting it in a pocket.
At a distant corner of the road by the side of the lake, Millicentturned for a last look at the hotel and waved a hand at them. Helenreplied.
"I almost wish now she was staying here a few days," she saidwistfully. "She ought to have seen our valley in its summer greenery."
"I fear she brought winter in her train," was Bower's comment. "Butthe famous cat must decide. Here, boy," he went on, hailing a villageurchin, "where is Johann Klucker's house?"
The boy pointed to a track that ran close to the right bank of thetiny Inn. He explained volubly, and was rewarded with a franc.
"Do you know this path?" asked Bower. "Klucker's chalet is near thewaterfall, which should be a fine sight owing to the melting snow."
It was Helen's favorite walk. She would have preferred a morefrequented route; but the group of houses described by the boy wasquite near, and she could devise no excuse for keeping to the busyhighway. As the path was narrow she walked in front. The grass andflowers seemed to have drawn fresh tints from the snow, which hadcleared away with magical rapidity from this sheltered spot. Butthe little rivulet, usually diamond bright, was now a turbulent andfoaming stream. Care was needed not to slip. If anyone fell into thatminiature torrent, it would be no easy matter to escape without brokenbones.
"Would you ever believe that a few hours' snow, followed by a hot sun,would make such a difference to a mere ribbon of water like this?" sheasked, when they were passing through a narrow cleft in a wall of rockthrough which the Inn roared with a quite respectable fury.
"I am in a mood to believe anything," said Bower. "Do you remember ourfirst meeting at the Embankment Hotel? Who would have imagined thenthat Millicent Jaques, a few weeks later, would rush a thousand milesto the Maloja and scream her woes to Heaven and the multitude. Neitheryou nor I, I fancy, had seen her during the interval. Did she tell youthe cause of her extraordinary behavior?"
"No. I did not ask her. But it scarce needed explanation, Mr. Bower.I--I fear she suspected me of flirting. It was unjust; but I can wellconceive that a woman who thinks her friend is robbing her of a man'saffections does not wait to consider nice points of procedure."
"Surely Millicent did not say that I had promised to marry her?"
Though Helen was not prepared for this downright plunge into anembarrassing discussion, she managed to evade a direct answer. "Therewas more than a suggestion of that in her words last night," she said."Perhaps she thought so in all seriousness. You seem to haveundeceived her to-day, and I am sure you must have dealt with herkindly, or she would not have acknowledged her mistake in such frankterms to me. There, now! That is the end of a very disagreeableepisode. Shall we say no more about it?"
Helen was flushed and hurried of speech: but she persevered bravely,hoping that Bower's tact would not desert him at this crisis. Shequickened her pace a little, with the air of one who has said the lastword on a difficult topic and is anxious to forget it.
Bower overtook her. He grasped her shoulder almost roughly, and drewher round till she faced him. "You are trying to escape me, Helen!" hesaid hoarsely. "That is impossible. Someone must have told you what Isaid to Millicent in the hearing of all who chose to listen. Heramazing outburst forced from me an avowal that should have been madeto you alone. Helen, I want you to be my wife. I love you better thanall the world. I have my faults,--what man is flawless?--but I havethe abiding virtue of loving you. I shall make your life happy, Helen.For God's sake do not tell me that you are already promised toanother!"
His eyes blazed into hers with a passion that was appalling in itsintensity. She seemed to lose the power to speak or move. She lookedup at him like a frightened child, who hears strange words that shedoes not comprehend. Thinking he had won her, he threw his arms abouther and strained her fiercely to his breast. He strove to kiss awaythe tears that began to fall in piteous protest; but she bent her headas if in shame.
"Oh, please let me go!" she sobbed. "Please let me go! What have Idone that you should treat me so cruelly."
"Cruelly, Helen? How should I be cruel to you whom I hold so dear?"
Still he clasped her tightly, hardly knowing what he did in histransport of joy at the belief that she was his.
She struggled to free herself. She shrank from this physical contactwith a strange repulsion. She felt as a timid animal must feel whensome lord of the jungle pulls it down and drags it to his lair. Bowerwas kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her hair, finding a mad rapturein the fragrance of her skin. He crushed her in a close embrace thatwas almost suffocating.
"Oh, please let me go!" she wailed. "You frighten me. Let me go! Howdare you!"
She fought so wildly that he yielded to a dim sense that she was inearnest. He relaxed his grip. With the instinct of a hunted thing, shetook a dangerous leap for safety clean across the swollen Inn. Luckilyshe alighted on a broad boulder, or a sprained ankle would have beenthe least penalty for that desperate means of escape.
As she stood there, with tears streaming down her face and the crimsonbrand of angry terror on her brow, the dreadful knowledge that he hadlost her smote Bower like a rush of cold air from a newly opened tomb.Between them brawled the tiny torrent. It offered no bar to an activeman; but even in his panic of sudden perception he resisted theimpulse that bade him follow.
"Helen," he pleaded, stretching forth his hands in frenzied gesture,"why do you cast me off? I swear by all a man holds sacred that I meanno wrong. You are dear to me as life itself. Ah, Helen, say that I mayhope! I do not even ask for your love. I shall win that by a lifetimeof devotion."
At last she found utterance. He had alarmed her greatly; but no womancan feel it an outrage that a man should avow his longing. And shepitied Bower with a great pity. Deep down in her heart was a suspicionthat they might have been happy together had they met sooner. Shewould never have loved him,--she knew that now beyond cavil,--but ifthey were married she must have striven to make life pleasant for him,while she drifted down the smooth stream of existence free from eitherabiding joys or carking sorrows.
"I am more grieved than I can tell that this should have happened,"she said, striving hard to restrain the so
b in her voice, though itgave her words the ring of genuine regret. "I little dreamed thatyou thought of me in that way, Mr. Bower. But I can never marryyou--never, no matter what the circumstances! Surely you will help meto dispel the memory of a foolish moment. It has been trying to bothof us. Let us pretend that it never was."
Had she struck him with a whip he could not have flinched so visiblybeneath the lash as from the patent honesty of her words. For a timehe did not answer, and the sudden calm that came quick on the heels offrenzy had in it a weird peacefulness.
Neither could ever again forget the noisy rush of the stream, the gladsinging of birds in a thicket overhanging the bank, the tinkle of thecow bells as the cattle began to climb to the pastures for a luxurioushour ere sundown. It was typical of their lives that they should bedivided by the infant Inn, almost at its source, and that thenceforththe barrier should become ever wider and deeper till it reached theinfinite sea.
He seemed to take his defeat well. He was pale, and his lips twitchedwith the effort to attain composure. He looked at Helen with a hungrylonging that was slowly acknowledging restraint.
"I must have frightened you," he said, breaking a silence that wasgrowing irksome. "Of course I apologize for that. But we cannot leavethings where they are. If you must send me away from you, I may atleast demand a clear understanding. Have no fear that I shall distressyou further. May I join you, or will you walk to the bridge a littlehigher up?"
"Let us return to the hotel," she protested.
"No, no. We are not children. We have broken no law of God or man. Whyshould I be ashamed of having asked you to marry me, or you to listen,even though it be such a hopeless fantasy as you say?"
Helen, deeply moved in his behalf, walked to a bridge of planks alittle distance up stream. Bower joined her there. He had deliberatelyresolved to do a dastardly thing. If Spencer was the cause of Helen'srefusal, that obstacle, at any rate, could be smashed to a pulp.
"Now, Helen," he said, "I want you to believe that your happiness ismy only concern. Perhaps, at some other time, you may allow me torenew in less abrupt manner the proposal I have made to-day. But whenyou hear all that I have to tell, you will be forced to admit that Iplaced your high repute above every other consideration in declaringmy love before, rather than after, you learned how and why you came toSwitzerland."
His manner was becoming more calm and judicial each moment. It reactedon Helen, who gazed at him with a very natural surprise in her stilltear-laden eyes.
"That, at least, is simple enough," she cried.
"No. It is menacing, ugly, a trick calculated to wound you sorely.When first it came to my ears I refused to credit the vile meanness ofit. You saw that telegram which reached my hands as we quitted thehotel? It is a reply to certain inquiries I caused to be made inLondon. Read it."
Helen took the crumpled sheets of thin paper and began to read. Bowerwatched her face with a maleficent confidence that might have warnedher had she seen it. But she paid heed to nothing else at that momentsave the mysterious words scrawled in a foreign handwriting:
"Have investigated 'Firefly' incident fully. Pargrave compelled Mackenzie to explain. The American, Charles K. Spencer, recently residing at Embankment Hotel, is paying Miss Helen Wynton's expenses, including cost of publishing her articles. He followed her on the day of her departure, and has since asked Mackenzie for introduction. Pargrave greatly annoyed, and holds Mackenzie at your disposal.
"KENNETT."
Helen went very white; but she spoke with a firmness that was amazing,even to Bower. "Who is Kennett?" she said.
"One of my confidential clerks."
"And Pargrave?"
"The proprietor of 'The Firefly.'"
"Did Millicent know of this--plot?"
"Yes."
Then she murmured a broken prayer. "Ah, dear Heaven!" she complained,"for what am I punished so bitterly?"
Karl, the voluble and sharp-eyed, retailed a bit of gossip to Stampathat evening as they smoked in Johann Klucker's chalet. "As I wasdriving the cattle to the middle alp to-day, I saw our _fraeulein_ inthe arms of the big _voyageur_," he said.
Stampa withdrew his pipe from between his teeth. "Say that again," hewhispered, as though afraid of being overheard.
Karl did so, with fuller details.
"Are you sure?" asked Stampa.
Karl sniffed scornfully. "_Ach, Gott!_ How could I err?" he cried."There are not so many pretty women in the hotel that I should notrecognize our _fraeulein_. And who would forget Herr Bower? He gave metwo louis for a ten francs job. We must get them together on the hillsagain, Christian. He will be soft hearted now, and pay well for takingcare of his lady."
"Yes," said Stampa, resuming his pipe. "You are right, Karl. There isno place like the hills. And he will pay--the highest price, look you!_Saperlotte!_ I shall exact a heavy fee this time."
