But Van Teyl, who had caught the little motion of his sister's head towards the city, proved equal to the occasion. He returned presently, driving the car.
"Got to go," he announced as he made his farewells. "Can't be helped, Pamela. Frightfully sorry, Mrs. Saunders, we are wanted up in New York."
"I was so afraid of it," she regretted as she waved her adieux. . . . .
An hour or so later the city broke before them in murky waves. Pamela, who had been leaning back in the car, deep in thought, sat up.
"You are a perfect dear, James," she said. "Do you think you could stand having Mr. Fischer to dinner one evening this week?"
"Sure!" he replied, a little curiously. "If you want to keep friends with him for any reason, I don't bear him any ill-will."
"I just want to talk to him," Pamela murmured, "that's all."
There was a ripple of interest and a good deal of curiosity that afternoon, in the lounge and entrance hall of the Hotel Plaza, when a tall, grey-moustached gentleman of military bearing descended from the automobile which had brought him from the station, and handed in his name at the desk, inquiring for Mr. Fischer.
"Will you send my name up--the Baron von Schwerin," he directed.
The clerk, who had recognised the newcomer, took him under his personal care.
"Mr. Fischer is up in his rooms, expecting you, Baron," he announced. "If you'll come this way, I'll take you up."
The Baron followed his guide to the lift and along the corridor to the suite of rooms occupied by Mr. Fischer and his young friend, James Van Teyl. Mr. Fischer himself opened the door. The two men clasped hands cordially, and the clerk discreetly withdrew.
"Back with us once more, Fischer," Von Schwerin exclaimed fervently. "You are wonderful. Tell me," he added, looking around, "we are to be alone here?"
"Absolutely," Fischer replied. "The young man I share these apartments with--James Van Teyl--has taken his sister out to Baltusrol. They will not be back until seven o'clock. We are sure of solitude."
"Good!" Von Schwerin exclaimed. "And you have news--I can see it in your face."
Fischer rolled up easy chairs and produced a box of cigars.
"Yes," he assented, with a little glitter in his eyes, "I have news. Things have moved with me. I think that, with the help of an idiotic Englishman, we shall solve the riddle of what our professors have called the consuming explosive. I sent the formula home to Germany, by a trusty hand, only a few hours ago."