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Page 106

He arrived in Vienna at nine o'clock that night. The imminence of
his interview with Marie hung over him like a cloud. He ate a
hurried supper, and calling up the Doctors' Club by telephone
found Peter's address in the Siebensternstrasse. He had no idea,
of course, that Marie was there. He wanted to see Peter to learn
where Marie had taken refuge, and incidentally to get from Peter
a fresh supply of moral courage for the interview. For he needed
courage. In vain on the journey down had he clothed himself in
armor of wrath against the girl; the very compartment in the
train provoked softened memories of her. Here they had bought a
luncheon, there Marie had first seen the Rax. Again at this
station she had curled up and put her head on his shoulder for a
nap. Ah, but again, at this part of the journey he had first seen
Anita!

He took a car to the Siebensternstrasse. His idea of Peter's
manner of living those days was exceedingly vague. He had
respected Peter's reticence, after the manner of men with each
other. Peter had once mentioned a boy he was looking after, in
excuse for leaving so soon after the accident. That was all.

The house on the Siebensternstrasse loomed large and unlighted.
The street was dark, and it was only after a search that Stewart
found the gate. Even then he lost the path, and found himself
among a group of trees, to touch the lowest branches of any of
which resulted in a shower of raindrops. To add to his discomfort
some one was walking in the garden, coming toward him with light,
almost stealthy steps.

Stewart by his tree stood still, waiting. The steps approached,
were very close, were beside him. So intense was the darkness
that even then all he saw was a blacker shadow, and that was
visible only because it moved. Then a hand touched his arm,
stopped as if paralyzed, drew back slowly, fearfully.

"Good Heavens!" said poor Harmony faintly.

"Please don't be alarmed. I have lost the path." Stewart's voice
was almost equally nervous. "Is it to the right or the left?"

It was a moment before Harmony had breath to speak. Then:--

"To the right a dozen paces or so."

"Thank you. Perhaps I can help you to find it."

"I know it quite well. Please don't bother."

The whole situation was so unexpected that only then did it dawn
on Stewart that this blacker shadow was a countrywoman speaking
God's own language. Together, Harmony a foot or so in advance,
they made the path.

"The house is there. Ring hard, the bell is out of order."

"Are you not coming in?"

"No. I--I do not live here."

She must have gone just after that. Stewart, glancing at the dark
facade of the house, turned round to find her gone, and a moment
later heard the closing of the gate. He was bewildered. What sort
of curious place was this, a great looming house that concealed
in its garden a fugitive American girl who came and went like a
shadow, leaving only the memory of a sweet voice strained with
fright?

Stewart was full of his encounter as he took the candle the
Portier gave him and followed the gentleman's gruff directions up
the staircase. Peter admitted him, looking a trifle uneasy, as
well he might with Marie in the salon.

Stewart was too preoccupied to notice Peter's expression. He
shook the rain off his hat, smiling.

"How are you?" asked Peter dutifully.

"Pretty good, except for a headache when I'm tired. What sort of
a place have you got here anyhow, Byrne?"

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sun 28th Dec 2025, 20:16

The Street of Seven Stars by Mary Roberts Rinehart