The Secret Witness   By: George Gibbs (1870-1942)

BY GEORGE GIBBS

AUTHOR OF "PARADISE GARDEN," "THE YELLOW DOVE," ETC.

ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE BREHM

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY NEW YORK LONDON 1917

Copyright, 1917, by the Curtis Publishing Company Published in the United States of America

TO MY FRIEND MAJOR R. TAIT McKENZIE, R.A.M.C.

[Illustration: "Your veil quick," he stammered breathlessly.]

CONTENTS

I. JUNE 12, 1914

II. COURT SECRETS

III. THE HABSBURG HAVEN

IV. SECRET INFORMATION

V. TWO INTRUDERS

VI. HERR WINDT

VII. THE GREEN LIMOUSINE

VIII. AN ESCAPE AND A CAPTURE

IX. CAPTAIN GORITZ

X. DIAMOND CUTS DIAMOND

XI. THE MAN IN BLACK

XII. FLIGHT

XIII. TRAGEDY

XIV. THE HARIM

XV. THE LIGHTED WINDOWS

XVI. THE BEG OF RATAJ

XVII. THE MAN IN ARMOR

XVIII. NUMBER 28

XIX. DISGUISE

XX. RENWICK QUESTIONS

XXI. AN IMPERSONATION

XXII. THE NEEDLE IN THE HAYSTACK

XXIII. SCHLOSS SZOLNOK

XXIV. PRISONER AND CAPTIVE

XXV. THE RIFT IN THE ROCK

XXVI. THE DEATH GRIP

XXVII. BESIEGED

IN REGARD TO THE EVIDENCE IN THE CASE

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"Your veil quick," he stammered breathlessly.

"It is too late," she murmured. "They would see us."

"Who are you?" she asked.

His Excellency rose and bowed over her hand

"Be quiet. People are watching you," said Goritz sternly.

"Thank you," she said simply. "I believe you."

THE SECRET WITNESS

CHAPTER I

JUNE 12, 1914

The Countess Marishka was fleet of foot. She was straight and slender and she set a pace for Renwick along the tortuous paths in the rose gardens of the Archduke which soon had her pursuer gasping. She ran like a boy, her dark hair falling about her ears, her draperies like Nike's in the wind, her cheeks and eyes glowing, a pretty quarry indeed and well worthy of so arduous a pursuit. For Renwick was not to be denied and as the girl turned into the path which led to the thatched arbor, he saw that she was breathing hard and the half timorous laugh she threw over her shoulder at him only spurred him on to new endeavor. He reached the hedge as she disappeared, but his instinct was unerring and he leaped through the swaying branches just in time to see the hem of her skirt in the foliage on the other side and plunging through caught her in his arms just as she sank, laughing breathlessly, to the spangled shadows of the turf beyond.

"Marishka," he cried joyously, "did you mean it?"

But she wouldn't reply.

"You said that if I caught you "

"The race isn't always to the swift " she protested falteringly in her pretty broken English.

"Your promise "

"I made no promise."

"You'll make it now, the one I've waited for for weeks Marishka. Lift up your head."

"No, no," she stammered.

"Then I "

Renwick caught her in his arms again and turned her chin upward. Her eyes were closed, but as their lips met her figure relaxed in his arms and her head sank upon his shoulder.

"You run very fast, Herr Renwick," she whispered.

"You'll marry me, Marishka?"

"Who shall say?" she evaded.

"Your own lips. You've given them to me "

"No, no. You have taken them "

"It is all the same. They are mine." And Renwick took them again.

"Oh," she gasped, "you are so persistent you English. You always wish to have your own way."

He laughed happily.

"Would you have me otherwise? My way and your way, Marishka, they go together. You wish it so, do you not?"

She was silent a while, the wild spirit in her slowly submissive, and at last a smile moved her lips, her dark eyes were upturned to his and she murmured a little proudly:

"It is a saying among the women of the House of Strahni that where the lips are given the heart must follow."