THE YELLOW DOVE
“Perhaps, Herr Hammersley, a little fresh air will help. A stroll in the kitchen garden.”
Doris got up in sudden relief as she understood.
“Yes,” she said. “Perhaps I will feel better in the air.”
Cyril led the way to the door and together they went out. They heard sounds of heavy footsteps in the hallway above but did not pause, making their way along the path which led around the house. Cyril did not turn toward her, but she heard him speaking.
“They will call us back. Do not be frightened. If von Stromberg questions again, answer to the best of your ability. I will find a means of reaching your room tonight. In the meanwhile keep up your courage.”
She did not reply for she heard steps behind her, and turning, found Captain Wentz, who bowed, taking off his cap.
“General von Stromberg requests me to ask,” he said in very good English, “if Miss Mather will not give him the pleasure of joining him in a cup of chocolate.”
“He is very kind,” she said slowly with a glance at Cyril. “Of course—I shall be very glad.”
The officer replaced his cap and, turning to Hammersley, spoke in German.
“His Excellenz also requests that Herr Hammersley will remain within call.”
Hammersley bowed.
“Tell his Excellenz with my compliments that with his permission I will smoke my pipe here in the kitchen garden.”
Doris followed the officer into the room they had just left and von Stromberg joined her almost immediately.
“Ach, gnädiges Fräulein,” he said with his blandest
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