CHAPTER XVON THIN ICE
Von Brandisch was silent all the way to Tours. He left the car without making a sign, and Worrals followed him like a well-trained dog to his office, where he threw himself into his desk chair and resumed the conversation.
“Shut the door,” he said gruffly. He did not invite Worrals to be seated, so she stood in front of the desk and waited.
The German’s next act was to reach for the telephone. He called a number, and when it had been obtained, he said to whoever was at the other end of the line—Worrals, of course, had no idea who it was—“Release the Frenchman, Mundier. Tell him to go home and stay there. I may want to speak to him again. That’s all.” He clapped the receiver into its place. Turning to Worrals, he enquired, “Do you understand German?”
“A little,” ac
