I had no plan in my head, only a wild desire to put as much distance as possible between me and that ape-man in the room below.  So, after pausing a moment to listen and draw breath, I started off again.  Suddenly a door down the corridor, not ten paces away from me, opened and a woman came out.  I stopped dead in my headlong course, but it was too late and I found myself confronting her.

She was young and very beautiful with masses of thick brown hair clustering round a very white forehead.  She was in evening dress, all in white, with an ermine wrap.

Even as I looked at her I knew her and she knew me.

“Monica,” I whispered.

“Why!  Desmond!” she said.

A regular hubbub echoed from below.  Voices were crying out, doors were banging, there was the sound of feet.

The girl was speaking, saying in her low and pleasant voice phrases that were vague to me about her surprise, her delight at seeing me.  But I did not listen to her.  I was straining my ears towards that volume of chaotic noises which came swelling up from below.

“Monica!” I interrupted swiftly, “have you any place to hide me?  This place is dangerous for me....  I must get away.  If you can’t save me, don’t stay here but get away yourself as fast as you can.  They’re after me and if they catch you with me it will be bad for you!”

Without a word the girl turned round to the room she had just left.  She beckoned to me, then knocked and went in.  I followed her.  It was a big, pleasant bedroom, elegantly furnished with a soft carpet and silk hangings, and I know not what, with shaded lights and flowers in profusion.  Sitting up in bed was a stout, placid-looking woman in a pink silk kimono with her hair coquettishly braided in two short pigtails which hung down on either side of her face.

Monica closed the door softly behind her.

“Why, Monica!” she exclaimed in horror—­and her speech was that of the United States—­“what on earth ...?”

“Not a word, Mary, but let me explain....”

“But for land’s sake, Monica....”

“Mary, I want you to help....”

“But say, child, a man ... in my bedroom ... at this time o’ night....”

“Oh, shucks, Mary! let me talk.”

The distress of the woman in bed was so comic that I could scarcely help laughing.  She had dragged the bed-clothes up till only her eyes could be seen.  Her pigtails bobbed about in her emotion.

“Now, Mary dear, listen here.  You’re a friend of mine.  This is Desmond Okewood, another, a very old and dear friend of mine too.  Well, you know, Mary, this isn’t a healthy country these times for an English officer.  That’s what Desmond here is.  I didn’t know he was in Germany.  I don’t know a thing about him except what he’s told me and that’s that he’s in danger and wants me to help him.  I met him outside and brought him right in here, as I know you would want me to, wouldn’t you, dear?”