THE YELLOW DOVE
crisply. “I am your kinsman but I am first of all—a German. And not even for you will I be a traitor.”
“Natürlich!” smiled Cyril.
Udo von Winden’s look was grave, his voice sober, and the muzzle of his automatic did not waver.
“I have already had a bad memory, my cousin. This afternoon I forgot that Lindberg, who served your meals, was a good friend of yours and mine and that he might be counted on to help you out of your difficulties. I also forgot that there was such a place as the Cave of the Thorwald until I learned from Excellenz last night, the price Germany was to pay for my indifference. If you had failed to capture the documents of His Majesty, I might have remained silent. As you took them, there remained nothing but to act. I came here, for I knew it would be the one place where I should find you.” Hammersley bent his head. “I understand.” And then quickly, “Would you mind telling me if you have spoken—if you have told what Lindberg—?”
“No,” von Winden broke in, “I have told nothing. Lindberg is safe. I have come here alone”
Hammersley gave a gasp of relief and leaned forward, peering into the fire.
“I came for one purpose, Cyril,” Udo went on quietly. “I have no personal desire for your death, but I would kill you as you sit rather than see Germany suffer the loss of the documents in your possession. I came for them and I intend that you shall give them to me.”
Hammersley looked up into his cousin’s face and their eyes met. Von Winden’s tone was cool and his manner as calm as on the days last year when they were hunting together, but Hammersley knew that
276
