[Pg 52] CHAPTER IV THE MYSTERY OF THE SATIN SLIPPERS THE MYSTERY OF THE SATIN SLIPPERS Stewart, awakening from the contemplation of this poignant drama—one of thousands such enacting at that moment all over Europe—realized that he was lingering unduly and hastened his steps. At the end of five minutes, he was again in the wide Franzstrasse, and, turning the last corner, saw his landlady standing at her door, looking anxiously up and down the street. Stewart Her face brightened with relief when she saw him—a relief so evidently deep and genuine that Stewart was a little puzzled by it. “But I am glad to see you!” she cried as he came up, her face wreathed in smiles. “I was imagining the most horrible things. I feared I know not what! But you are safe, it seems.” “Quite safe. In fact, I was never in any danger.” “I was foolish, no doubt, to have fear. But in times like these, one never knows what may happen.” [Pg 53] [Pg 53] “True enough,” Stewart agreed. “Still, an American with a passport in his pocket ought to be safe anywhere.” “Ah; you have a passport—that is good. That will simplify matters. The police have been here to question you. They will return presently.” “The police?” “There have been some spies captured, it seems. And there are many who are trying to leave the country. So everyone is suspected. You are not German-born, I hope? If you were, I fear not even your passport would be of use.” They had walked back together along the hall as they talked, and now stopped at the foot of the stair. The landlady seemed very nervous—as was perhaps natural amid the alarms of war. She scarcely listened to his assurance that he was American by birth. Little beads of perspiration stood out across her forehead—— “The police visited your room,” she rattled on. “You will perhaps find your baggage disarranged.” Stewart smiled wryly. “So it seems they really suspect me?” “They suspect everyone,” the
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