The American put an arm about the girl’s shoulders, and raised one hand to her cheek—­it might have been in caress, but it wasn’t.  It was to smother the cry of alarm he anticipated would follow the discovery that he was not “Stefan.”  He bent his lips close to her ear.

“Do not make an outcry,” he whispered in very poor Serbian.  “I am not Stefan; but I am a friend.”

The exclamation of surprise or fright that he had expected was not forthcoming.  The girl lowered her arms from about his neck.

“Who are you?” she asked in a low whisper.

“I am an American war correspondent,” replied Barney, “but if the Austrians get hold of me now it will be mighty difficult to convince them that I am not a spy.”  And then a sudden determination came to him to trust his fate to this unknown girl, whose face, even, he had never seen.  “I am entirely at your mercy,” he said.  “There are Austrian soldiers in the street below.  You have but to call to them to send me before the firing squad—­or, you can let me remain here until I can find an opportunity to get away in safety.  I am trying to reach Serbia.”

“Why do you wish to reach Serbia?” asked the girl suspiciously.

“I have discovered too many enemies in Austria tonight to make it safe for me to remain,” he replied, “and, further, my original intention was to report the war from the Serbian side.”

The girl hesitated for a while, evidently in thought.

“They are moving on,” suggested Barney.  “If you are going to give me up you’d better do it at once.”

“I’m not going to give you up,” replied the girl.  “I’m going to keep you prisoner until Stefan returns—­he will know best what to do with you.  Now you must come with me and be locked up.  Do not try to escape—­I have a revolver in my hand,” and to give her prisoner physical proof of the weapon he could not see she thrust the muzzle against his side.

“I’ll take your word for the gun,” said Barney, “if you’ll just turn it in the other direction.  Go ahead—­I’ll follow you.”

“No, you won’t,” replied the girl.  “You’ll go first; but before that you’ll raise your hands above your head.  I want to search you.”

Barney did as he was bid and a moment later felt deft fingers running over his clothing in search of concealed weapons.  Satisfied at last that he was unarmed, the girl directed him to precede her, guiding his steps from behind with a hand upon his arm.  Occasionally he felt the muzzle of her revolver touch his body.  It was a most unpleasant sensation.

They crossed the room to a door which his captor directed him to open, and after they had passed through and she had closed it behind them the girl struck a match and lit a candle which stood upon a little bracket on the partition wall.  The dim light of the tallow dip showed Barney that he was in a narrow hall from which several doors opened into different rooms.  At one end of the hall a stairway led to the floor below, while at the opposite end another flight disappeared into the darkness above.