The innocent cipher arranged for would warn him of all possible happenings.
And yet, at ease in his trust in the dumb fidelity of the distant woman still his slave, he waited hungrily for the Magyar beauty to trap herself.

He was a man of infinite patience.

Indulging every seeming whim of his companion, he had never lost her from his sight a moment since their arrival.
It was on the fourth day after their refuge in Stettin, when Fritz Braun stole out of his rooms at a secret signal from Lena, the "stube-madchen," whose frank face had won upon the secretly imprisoned Irma.
"She gave me one of her diamond rings to pawn.

I was to post this letter and to send this telegraph dispatch to America," whispered the girl.

Fritz Braun smiled as he received the proofs of the Hungarian's treachery.
And then, Lena sang over her drudgery for the next week, for the grateful Braun had filled her hand with gold.
There was a strange gleam of contentment in Irma Gluyas' eyes when she followed Fritz Braun, two weeks later, into the train for Breslau.