"No. Don't talk, please. Later...."

He was too weak to sit up.

"Things will have to be straightened out," he muttered. "The fool was an American officer. There'll be trouble."

"No, don't worry. Von Stinnes has fixed things."

His eyes grew heavy and closed. Sleep ... and let things, fixed or unfixed, go to the devil.

When he awoke again the room was lighted. Mathilde, standing by the window, turned as he stirred.

"Are you awake?"

"Yes, and hungry."

She brought a tray to his bed. He raised himself carefully, his head unbearably heavy. Mathilde watched him with wide eyes as he sipped some broth.

"What did they arrest the Baron for?" he asked.

She waited till he had finished, and cleared the bed, sitting down on the edge. Her face lowered toward him till her lips touched and kissed him.

"For murder," she whispered. Another kiss. "Now you must be quiet and I'll tell you. He gave himself up when the police came. We carried you out first. And then I left him."

"But," Dorn looked bewilderedly into the eyes of the girl.

"It was easier for him than for you. They would take you away for trial to America. But he will be tried here. And he will come out all right.

Don't worry. We thought your skull was fractured, but the doctor says it was only a hard blow."

She lowered her head beside him on the pillow and whispered, "I love you! Poor Erik! He is defenseless--with a broken head."

"You are kind," he answered; "von Stinnes, too. But we must set matters right...."

"No, no, be still!"

He grew silent. It was night again. In the morning he would be strong enough to get up. A misty calm, the pain almost gone, veins throbbing and a little split in his thought ... but no more.

"I will sleep by you," Mathilde spoke. She stood up and removed her waist and shoes. He watched her with interest. Another woman curiously like Anna, like Rachel--like the two creatures in Paris. Shoulders suddenly bare. Possessive, unashamed gestures.... She lay down beside him with a sigh.

"Poor Erik! I take advantage of a broken head."

"No," he smiled.

They lay motionless, her head touching his shoulder timidly.

"I could live with you forever and be happy," she whispered.

"We will see about forever--when it comes."

"Do you like me--perhaps--now?"

He would have preferred her silent. Silence at least was an effortless lie. To make love was preposterous. How many times had he said, "I love you?" Too many. But she was young and it would sound pretty in her ears.

"Mathilde, dear one."

Her arm trembled across his body.

It was difficult, but he would say it.... "Yes, in an odd sort of way, Mathilde, I love you...."

"Ah! you are only being polite--because I have fed you broth."

"No. As much as I can love anything...."

"Later, Erik. 'Shh! Sleep if you can. Oh, I am shameless."

She had moved against him. He thought with a smile, "What an original way of nursing a broken head!"

Later, tired with a renewed effort to straighten out words about the fool and Rachel and himself, he closed his eyes. Mathilde was still awake.

"I'll see von Stinnes in the morning," he murmured drowsily. "Von Stinnes ... a gallant friend...."

... Someone knocking on the door aroused him. Dawn was in the room.

"Matty," he called. She slept. He found himself able to rise and his legs carried him unsteadily to the door. A tall marine, outside.

"Herr Erik Dorn?"

Dorn nodded dizzily.

The man went on in German. "I come from Stinnes. I have a letter for you."

He took the letter from his hand and moved hurriedly to a chair.

"Thanks," vaguely. The marine saluted and walked off. Mathilde had awakened.

"What are you doing?"

She slipped out of bed and hurried to him.

"A letter," he answered. He allowed her to help him back to his pillow.

Reclining again, his dizziness grew less.

"I'll read it for you," she said.

"No. Von Stinnes...."

"It may be important."

"I'll be able to read in a moment."