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But one of the Bavarians was beyond their skill: a young lieutenant. His wound was precisely "Herter's specialty" a bullet lodged in the heart, if he was to be saved, Herter alone could save him. Would Herter operate? He had only to say the case was hopeless, and refuse to waste upon it time needed for others. Perhaps he knew what suspicion would dog him through life if he gave this verdict.
Thus, without your being compromised, they will learn my adventures without having to wait until I come. But there's just room enough left on this first sheet to reiterate that, when Herter found me, and gave me the somewhat disconcerting news of my engagement to his friend, a Miss O'Malley travelling with my parents, I simply listened.
Herter used to meet me, as if by accident, when I was off duty, and we went for long walks, talking French together; I enjoyed that! Besides, there was nothing the man didn't know. He was a kind of encyclopædia of all the great musicians and artists of the world since the Middle Ages; and was so much older than I, that I didn't think about his falling in love.
"Has your brother told you about the man we met at the Visitors' Château?" asked Father Beckett, when between the two men and my reminiscences the story of the tour was finished with those last words of Brian's. "No, I haven't told her yet," Brian answered for me. My nerves jumped. I scarcely knew what I expected to hear. "Not Doctor Paul Herter?"
If I showed the slightest trace of uneasiness, it would be a sign that I had played a trick and feared to fall its victim. In that case the 'third degree' was to be applied until I owned up, and could be haled away for punishment. "There was just time to carry out this programme, and Hupfer fell for it. Herter had put me wise beforehand, and I knew what to expect. We would then undress the fellow.
I exclaimed and was surprised to hear on my own lips the name so constantly in my mind. "Well, that's queer she should speak of him, isn't it, Brian? How did you come to think of Herter?" Father Beckett wanted to know. "Was it he?" I insisted. "No. But you'd better tell her, Brian. I guess you'll have to." "There isn't much to tell, really," Brian said.
"'Dare' is such a melodramatic word from you to me. I can't tell you now what I did, or the message no time. But I'm in as much of a hurry as you are. When can I see you alone?" I hesitated, because it would be like him to cheat me with some trick, and chuckle at my rage. I couldn't see how a message from Paul Herter for me had reached Julian O'Farrell, unless he'd intercepted a letter.
I can't forget. Hilda she wouldn't come out. It wasn't my fault. The Colonel's orders. An old man, too. We saw them in the fire. We had to pass on. Hilda, forgive!" "Was it a corner house of the Rue Princesse Marie?" asked Herter. "Yes yes, a corner house," groaned the boy of the beautiful face. Herter gave a sign to the man who had brought the ether.
Whether O'Farrell had the grace to drop behind, or whether I pushed ahead I don't know, but next moment Doctor Herter and I were pacing along, side by side, keeping well ahead of the others, in spite of his limp. "I thought I never wanted to see you again, Mary O'Malley," he said; "but that glimpse I had, in the hospice, showed me my mistake.
But first let me relieve my mind of any fear for yourself. I have not contradicted the story you told Herter about our engagement. What I shall say to my parents when I meet them, as I hope soon to do, depends upon circumstances. Till you and I have had a private conversation, you will oblige me by letting things remain as they are. I have strong reasons for this wish.
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