THE FIGHT IN THE CAVERN
it would be better.” He shrugged. “My position is this. You can do Germany no further harm. I shall tell a likely story. I have the papers—they are what I came for. If you had not given them to me I would have killed you, but now I shall go away alone as I came.”
“Good old Udo!” said Hammersley impulsively, taking a pace toward him, his hand outstretched.
But von Winden’s automatic came quickly into line and Hammersley halted.
“One moment, my cousin,” said von Winden coolly. “I am quite willing to accept your expressions of gratitude from a distance. I may not wish to see you killed by others, and I would regret the necessity of killing you myself. I shall consider you my prisoner until I go. After that”—and he shrugged expressively—“you can go where you like.”
Hammersley folded his arms and frowned.
“Where I like!” he muttered. “With every village in Hesse-Nassau on the lookout for me.” There was a pause, after which von Winden spoke with quiet earnestness. “Unfortunately I may not help you further. Since there is food, to wait here is safer. Alone, traveling by night, a man might reach Basel safely. As for the Fräulein, if she will return to Blaufelden and give herself up, imprisonment for a time is perhaps the worst that she need fear.”
Doris had risen, the white light from the door of the cavern searching her face pitilessly.
“It is what I would do,” she said haltingly. “What I have pleaded with him to let me do. Cyril,” she implored in English, “you must let me.”
“I will think about it,” he muttered. “You are sure that no harm will come to her?” The muzzle of
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