"Who told you I had ever been there?--wherever that is!"

"You were there as a prisoner, were you not, Mr. McKay?"

"Where is that place?"

"In Germany on the River Weser. You were detained there under
pretence of being an Englishman before we declared war on Germany.
After we declared war they held you as a matter of course."

There was an ugly look in his eyes, now: "You seem to know a great
deal about a drunkard you picked up in the snow near the Plaza
fountain last night."

"Please don't speak so bitterly."

Quite unconsciously her gloved hand crept up on her fur coat until
it rested over her heart, pressing slightly against her breast.
Neither spoke for a few moments. Then:

"I do know something about you, Mr. McKay," she said. "Among other
things I know that--that if you have become--become intemperate--it
is not your fault.... That was vile of them-unutterably wicked-to do
what they did to you--"

"Who are you?" he burst out. "Where have you learned-heard such
things? Did I babble all this?"

"You did not utter a sound!"