Uncomfortably Philip accepted his release and went lightly up the stairs.

"I am a fool," said Philip. "But surely Walt Whitman must have
understood for he said it all in verse. 'I am to wait, I do not doubt, I
am to meet you again,'" quoted Philip under his breath; "'I am to see to
it that I do not lose you!'"




CHAPTER VII

THEMAR

The door which led into the Baron's bedroom from his own was slightly
ajar. Philip, about to close it, fancied he heard the stealthy rustle
of paper beyond and swung it noiselessly back, halting in silent
interest upon the threshold.

Themar, the Baron's Houdanian valet, was intently transcribing upon his
shirt-cuff, the contents of a paper which lay uppermost in the drawer
of a small portable desk.

Catlike, Philip stole across the room. The man's hand was laboriously
reproducing upon the linen an intricate message in cipher.

"Difficult, too, isn't it?" sympathized Philip smoothly at his elbow.

With a sharp cry, Themar wheeled, his small, shifting eyes black with