“I understand,” she answered, sitting down at her desk again; “it is more prudent.”

And for the rest of the time we spoke in German.

“Desmond?” I asked.

“Locked up in Grundt’s bedroom,” she replied.  “I met them pushing him along the corridor—­it was horrible!  Grundt won’t let him out of his sight.  Oh, it was madness to have come.  If only I could have warned you!”

“What is Grundt doing here?” I asked.  “And those soldiers and that officer?”

“My dear,” she answered, and her eyes flashed mischief in a sudden change of mood, “I’m in preventive arrest!”

“But, Monica....”

“Listen!  Gerry and that spying man-servant of his made trouble.  When Des went off that evening and didn’t come back, Gerry insisted that we should notify the police.  He made an awful scene, then the valet chipped in, and from what he said I knew he meant mischief.  I didn’t dare trust Gerry with the truth, so I let him send a note to the police.  They came round and asked a lot of questions and went away again, so I thought we’d heard the last of it and came up here.  Gerry wouldn’t come.  He’s gone off to Baden-Baden on some new cure.

“About a week ago the Chief Magistrate at Cleves, who is an old friend of ours, motored over, and after a lot of talk, blurted out that I was to consider myself under arrest, and that an officer and a detachment of men from Goch were coming over to guard the house.  The magistrate man would have told me anything I wanted to know, but he knew nothing:  he simply carried out his orders.  Then the lieutenant and his men arrived, and since that time I have been a prisoner in the house and grounds.  I was terribly scared about Des until Grundt arrived suddenly, two nights ago, and I saw at once by his face that Des was still at large.  But, Francis, that Clubfoot man came here to catch Des ... and he has simply walked into the trap.”

“And Desmond?” I asked.  “What is Clubfoot going to do about him?”

“He was with Des for about an hour in his room, and I heard him tell Schmalz he would ‘try again’ after dinner.  Oh, Francis, I am frightened of that man ... not a word has he said to me about my knowing Desmond—­not a word about my harbouring Des in Berlin ... but he knows everything, and he watches me the whole time.”

I glanced through the open door into the hall.  The candles still burnt on the dinner-table, where Clubfoot and the officer sat conversing in low tones.

“I have been here long enough,” I said.  “But before I go, I want you to answer one or two questions, Monica.  Will you?”

“Yes, Francis,” she said, raising her eyes to mine.

“What time is the shoot to-morrow?”

“At ten o’clock.”

“Are Grundt and Schmalz going?”

“Yes.”

“You too?”

“Yes.”

“Could you get away back to the house by 12.30?”

“Not alone.  One of them is always with me out of doors.”