"The Amtstra.s.se," and she handed me the paper. It came from his offices and was signed in his own handwriting.

"I give it up. These beggars beat me every time. Only an hour or two back he told me that you should be sent back home," and I told her about that part of the interview and that he had said I could tell Rosa. "It's true he said something about making some inquiries about you, so as to be satisfied you're not a spy."

"Then of course he's going to begin by questioning me himself."

"Possibly, but--I get such different reports about him. You'll have to look out, too. He's sure to cross-examine you about me. I can't get it out of my head that he suspects I'm flying under the wrong flag. You'd better never have seen me before, mind; and whatever you do, look out for traps and things; and he's as artful as a cartload of monkeys at the game."

She was tremendously excited by the news about going home. I had to repeat every word he had said about it, and of course she got out of me that he had spoken about our going home together.

"Oh, wouldn't that be lovely!" she exclaimed.

"To go with me?"

"To go with any one, of course," she said with sudden indifference. "If you'd been through half that I have and had a quarter of the suspense I've had to endure, you'd be glad too."

"I'm glad enough, as it is. I think this beastly climate is anything but healthy for either of us just now."

"Oh, to be free once more!" she cried with a deep, deep sigh of longing. "Do you know that more than once I've been on the point of risking everything and just bolting and chancing my luck."

"Which reminds me that I'd better tell you the spare wheels I've been thinking about, if these other tyres burst. I haven't had much chance of talking to you yet, you know."

"We had one interview," she reminded me, her eye dancing.

"We'll try to do a bit better this time. The best thing will be old von Gratzen's scheme, if it comes off."

"We should have to be together a long time, if it does."

"Rather rotten, eh? But I could bear it, I think, if you could."

"I should have to, naturally."

"We could discuss our old grievances, at the worst."

"And at the best?" she said demurely, trying not to laugh.

"Find fresh ones to jingle-jangle about. But you'll have to behave yourself; for I shall be a German for the first part of the trip, remember."

"And if you don't behave yourself, I can tell people you're not one.

You'll have to remember that, mind."

"Behave myself? Meaning?"

"That you're not to talk nonsense then or now; so go on to the spare wheels, please."

"All right. The next best will be for you to use Rosa's ticket and so on, and travel with her Oscar."

"But Rosa said you wouldn't hear of that, and you don't imagine I'm going to let the man run that risk for me. Any more wheels?"

"One. That if the worst comes to the worst, we just disappear and chance the weather;" and I described my idea--to go in disguise as a couple of mechanics.

"They're using a lot of women, but not as mechanics yet," she said.

I laughed. "But you'd go as a boy, Nessa."

"As a what?" she cried in amazement.

"I said boy. B-o-y. Easy word."

She stared at me for a moment or two as if I was mad, and then her eyes lit up and she burst out laughing. "Do you know why I'm laughing?"

"At me, probably."

"Not a bit of it. Because it's exactly the idea I had. I have the clothes ready for it and a set of overalls; and often and often I've locked myself in my room, dressed up, and rehea.r.s.ed everything. You know how I've played a boy's part in the theatricals at home; I can shove my hands in my pockets and swagger along just like one. I make rather a good boy."

"Good?"

"Good enough for a boy, anyhow," she replied, laughing again.

"Show me."

She rose, pushed hands down as if into her trouser pockets, and walked up and down the room with a free stride. "Give us a f.a.g, mate," she said when she reached me. "That all right?" she asked, relapsing into herself and sitting down again.

"Rather! Ripping! Why, you managed somehow to alter the very expression." She had. The change was wonderful. "With a touch or two of make-up not a soul would spot you. But you were always a bit of a boy, you know. Perhaps that accounts for it."

"That meant for a compliment?"

"Just as you take it. You were a self-willed little beggar, anyhow. Do you remember how shocked your mother was that night at the Grahams, when you came on their little stage as a boy?"

"I do, indeed. Poor mother! She must have been awfully worried by all this; and is still, of course. But Rosa has written to a friend in Switzerland and asked her to wire that I'm all right; and perhaps by this time she's had the message. It's horribly wicked, I suppose, but I declare I feel so vindictive that I could almost kill that woman Gretchen and von Erstein too, when I think of what they've made poor mother suffer by stopping my letters."

"He's a low-down swine; and if I get half a chance, I'll even things up with him before we leave. But we don't want to talk about him now. If your mother's got that wire, she'll feel heaps better. Now, tell me what you think of my third wheel?"

"Shall I tell you the truth?"

"Of course."

She paused and the colour crept slowly into her face, robbing it of the worried anxiety which had so distressed me and making her as bewitchingly pretty as ever in my eyes. "If you will have the truth I'd--I'd like the third wheel better than either of the others."

"Same here; but it wouldn't be so safe. We'll have the props with us, however, in case of mishaps. What say you?"

"Carried unanimously," she cried enthusiastically. "It would be lovely!"

"You haven't changed much, then, even with all this."

"Do you mean in looks?"

"Not much there, even; but I meant in the tomboy business."