THE YELLOW DOVE
ing a new world where he could begin again, trusting to time and opportunity and his own patience and tact to bring a sentimental victory out of what had already been defeat. A mad moment but a tempting one. But the time was not yet. He must be patient. With Hammersley gone
He straightened and slowly strolled forward to the wireless room. Toward evening he was given confirmation of the wisdom of his course, for as he was pacing the deck aft she came up from below and joined him. She was looking rather white, but she smiled at him brightly and matched her steps to his.
“I was lonely below,” she said. “You don’t mind?”
He had never thought her lovelier. Her face, if anything, had always needed just those shadows of pain to make it perfect.
“I hadn’t hoped for such a kindness. You are feeling better?”
“Yes, thanks. And since we must meet I am willing to try to be friendly.”
“I’m sure you’ll find that I’ll meet you more than halfway,” he said politely.
They talked far into the evening and at her request they dined together in the saloon. He was reserved but not cautious, and when the evening was over remembered hazily that she had succeeded in learning something from him of General von Stromberg, the head of the German Secret Service Department, of the aviation field at Windenberg and of the frequent flights of the Yellow Dove since the beginning of the winter.
The next morning passed quietly. Doris did not appear until noon. But just before luncheon a smudge of smoke appeared upon the horizon, which rapidly grew larger, and in a little while she made out the lines
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