CHAPTER XIVHeinrich Behrling, the man whom the most widely read paper in Berlin had called only that morning “the underground ruler of Germany,” showed no hesitation in taking the vacated easy-chair and he watched the disappearance of the still burning cigar out of the window with an air of satisfaction. In response to a wave of the hand, his escort retired. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“It gives me no pleasure to be so attended,” he declared, “but what would you have? The communists have sworn that before the end of the week I shall be a dead man. I prefer to live.”
“It is the natural choice,” Fawley murmured with a smile.
“You are Major Fawley, the American who has entered the service of Italy?” Behrling demanded. “You speak German—yes?”
“Yes to both questions,” was the prompt reply
