Spivak took a few paces away, and then slowly returned.
"What you say is interesting, Herr Moyer, and the theory hangs together, but you will waste your time in Germany."
"Because Captain Goritz is still in Hungary."
"What further reason have you for believing that he is here?"
Spivak smiled and hesitated a moment. And then, "You have talked freely. One good turn deserves another. I will tell you. We know that Captain Goritz is still in Hungary because within the past week the Wilhelmstrasse has sent urgent messages to Vienna inquiring for him."
"Ah--that is interesting," said Renwick slowly, trying to hide the throb of triumph in his throat. "Then you think----?"
"Merely that he is in hiding--with the lady," said Spivak with a leer. "It is no new thing for a man to go in hiding with a lady."
Renwick's laugh was admirably managed, for fury was in his heart. "This information is helpful," he said. "You believe that it is true?"
"I am sure. Berlin is anxious because he has not returned. I do not know what they suspect over there, but the situation is changed. The war has made a difference. We have no idea where he has gone. All that we know is that it will be very difficult for him to get out."
In the distance the train was rumbling up the track, and Renwick was thankful. But he caught the fellow by the hand.
"You are a good fellow, Spivak. If at any time you wish to leave the government service and take a good place at a fair payment, you will come to see me in Vienna."
"Thanks, Herr Moyer. I shall remember. You are going on to Budapest?"
"I am detained here to watch for a Russian spy who is trying to get through to the Galician border." He laughed. "You're sure you're not----?"
"That's a good joke, Spivak," he smiled. "A Russian! I'd have precious little chance----" And then as the train rolled in--
"Don't forget--Ferdinand Strasse, Number 83----"
And with a final wave of the hand Renwick turned and slowly mounted into his third class carriage. The plan had worked and the man, it seemed, had not the slightest suspicion. He was, as Renwick remembered from Konopisht, not infallible, and the ease with which Renwick had accomplished his object and the remarkable nature of his newly acquired information could only be explained by the fact that Spivak was seeking the Russian and not himself, and by the boldness of his impersonation, which had immediately pierced the crust of Spivak's professional reserve. All had gone well, but it seemed an age before the train drew out of the station. Renwick did not dare to look out of the window to learn if the man were still there, and until the bell of the locomotive rang announcing the departure of the train, he was unpleasantly nervous, for fear that a suspicion might dawn in the man's mind which would lead him to pursue the conversation.