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Updated: May 25, 2025
At one time his house had been watched day and night in consequence of his well-known friendship with the Republican Don Quixote. Unfortunately, therefore, it was only too probable that Haeberlein in risking his visit this evening might have run into a trap. If he were being searched for, his friend's house would almost inevitably be watched.
But as the terror or having her father's name mentioned in connection with Herr Kellner's once more returned to her, she added, pleadingly, "And you WILL be careful when you leave the house?" "Yes, indeed," said Haeberlein. "See what a disguise I have." He hastily donned the black wig, mustache and eyebrows, and the long Italian cloak. Erica looked at him critically.
Then followed references to Eric Haeberlein, and veiled hints about his London friends and associates more dangerous to the country than say foreigners, "traitors, heady, high-minded," etc., etc. Such evil-doers always managed to keep within the letter of the law; but, for his part, he thought they deserved to be shut up, more than most of those who get penal servitude for life.
"Too thick for a summer night," said Erica, "and" glancing from her father to Haeberlein "too long to look natural. I think Tom's ulster and traveling hat would be better." "Commend me to a woman when you want sound advice!" cried Haeberlein.
Haeberlein saw now what he had half fancied at Salzburg that, although loving diminutives would always come naturally to the lips when speaking of Erica, she had in truth lost the extreme youthfulness of manner which had always characterized her.
Feeling that his malicious endeavor had entirely failed, and stung by her dignified disapproval, Mr. Cuthbert struck out vindictively. Breaking the silence he had maintained toward her, he suddenly flashed round upon her with a question. "I suppose you are intimately acquainted with Eric Haeberlein?" He tried to make his tone casual and seemingly courteous, but failed.
He went out into the hall to dismiss the cab, and Haeberlein seized the opportunity to correct his words. "He thinks I shall get better, but it is impossible, my Herzblattchen; it is only a question of weeks now, possibly only of days. Was I wrong to come to you?" "Of course not," she said with the sort of tender deference with which she always spoke to him.
Raeburn grasped his hand once more. "Now I feel that I've got you, Eric!" he exclaimed. "What lucky chance has brought you so unexpectedly?" "No lucky one!" said Haeberlein, with an expressive motion of the shoulders. "But of that anon; let me look at you, old fellow why you're as white as a miller! Call yourself six-and-forty! You might pass for my grandfather!"
Why should you meddle?" "I was bound to," said Haeberlein. "He did me many a good turn during my exile, and though he has made a grave mistake, yet " "Yet you must run your chivalrous head into a halter for his sake!" exclaimed Raeburn. "You were ever Quixote. I shall live to see you hanged yet." Haeberlein laughed. "No, I don't think you will," he said, cheerfully.
"With regard to my father there was nothing to conceal," she replied. "Will you swear that there was NOTHING to conceal?" "With regard to my father there was nothing to conceal," she replied. "Don't bandy words with me. Will you repeat my formula 'Nothing to conceal?" "No, I will not repeat that." "You admit that there WAS something to conceal?" "If you call Eric Haeberlein 'something' yes."
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