THE YELLOW DOVE
Von Stromberg silenced him with a gesture.
“If you will be pleased to continue, Fräulein. Do you remember the numerals?”
“Some of them.”
“And the towns and dates?”
“Some of them.”
“And are they, the ones that you remember, identical in both packets?”
“As far as I can remember.”
Von Stromberg took the packet from her hands and turned it over in his fingers.
“There is nothing about this packet, no distinguishing mark that would make it different from the other, the one that was burned?”
“None, except the handwriting.”
“H-m.” General von Stromberg put the packet into an inside pocket and buttoned his coat carefully.
“So far—so good. You are an intelligent witness, Fräulein.”
“Thank you.” If the words of her questioner contained an ulterior suggestion, the girl gave every indication of being oblivious to it, listening with a grave calmness to his next question.
“When you escaped into the tree, were you in a position to hear what went on in the road?”
“I was.”
“The men in the road searched Herr Hammersley?”
“They did.”
“And at last he escaped?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember hearing him shout anything as his motor moved away?”
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
200
