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If he could he would return it to the bank and wire a warning to the Spokane buyer that the wheat was not safe. He might persuade his father to turn over the amount of the debt to Anderson. While thinking and planning, Kurt kept an eye on his father and rather neglected his supper. Presently, when old Dorn and Neuman rose and left the dining-room, Kurt followed them.
"I give money," said old Dorn, and with heavy movement he drew from inside his coat a large package wrapped in newspaper. He laid it before him in the light and began to unwrap it. Soon there were disclosed two bundles of bills the eighty thousand dollars. Kurt thrilled in all his being. His poor father was being misled and robbed. A melancholy flash of comfort came to Kurt!
They walked in silence through the snow, the baron humming a Vienna waltz as the blurred echoes of machine-gun fire rose in the night around them. ... Hours later Dorn lay sleepless in his bed. The smoke of wine was slipping out of his thought. "I'm alone," he murmured to himself. An emotionless regret came to him. "There are still years to live."
"O hala hala!" sighed Van Dorn. "You are the star of my life. All that I am, you have made me. Patty, I worship you. When you are gone, human nature will breathe and wonder. Do you remember when first we met?" "A little, Captain. Tell it to me again. Praise me if you kin. I'm almost desolate."
Do you know, I wake up at night sometimes with the rather naïve idea that I, von Stinnes, who prefer Turkish cigarettes to women, even brunettes ... But I stammer. It is difficult to be amusing, always. I think sometimes at night that I was personally responsible for at least half the casualties of the war." "Megalomania," said Dorn without changing his smile. "Yes, obviously. You hit it.
She thrust the thought from her with passionate physical gesture and with stern effort of will. Dorn was closeted with her father for over an hour. When he came out he was white, but apparently composed. Lenore had never seen his eyes so piercing as when they rested upon her. "Whew!" he exclaimed, and wiped his face. "Your father has my poor old dad what does Kathleen say? skinned to a frazzle!"
Whence the first and original seeds, and where were the sowers? Back in the ages! The stars, the night, the dark blue of heaven hid the secret in their impenetrableness. Beyond them surely was the answer, and perhaps peace. Material things life, success such as had inspired Kurt Dorn, on this calm night lost their significance and were seen clearly. They could not last.
They had burned into her thought so that when she closed her eyes she saw them, darkly red, against the blindness of sight. Pain was a sluggish stream with source high in her breast, and it moved with her unquickened blood. If Dorn were really dead, what would become of her? Selfish question for a girl whose lover had died for his country!
... 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.
That evening, as she pretended to listen to Hull on national politics, and while dressing the following morning Jane reflected upon her adventure. She decided that Dorn and the "wild girl" were a low, ill-mannered pair with whom she had nothing in common, that her fantastic, impulsive interest in them had been killed, that for the future she would avoid "all that sort of cattle."
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