the whole journey he was alone in the railway carriage;
other people did not travel so early. He looked stupidly out of the
window. It was all one to him to-day what the fields looked like and
how the harvest was getting on. He could only think of what he should
say for his boy. Perhaps it was still possible to make them give up the
charge against him.

In the capital he sat for an hour and a half in the waiting-room,
waiting for his train. He got a cup of coffee, and ate his breakfast
from the provisions in his pocket.

It was close and hot in the big room. He felt uncomfortable in such an
atmosphere, as every one must do who is accustomed to work in the open
air, and at last he threw back his cloak to relieve his oppression.
People stared at his medals, nudged one another, and would not take
their eyes off him, looking curious but respectful.

The turnpike-keeper sighed and buttoned his cloak again. Oh, if people
only knew in what trouble he was!

It was just eight o'clock when he reached the garrison town. Of course
that was somewhat early to be making such a visit as his; but he had no
time to lose, and he knew that an officer must always begin the day
early.

The porter at the station did not know where Captain von Wegstetten
lived. But the turnpike-keeper had a piece of luck: outside the station
he met a gunner, who readily told him the address--"11 Markt Strasse,
up two flights of stairs"--and showed him the way to go.

The two flights of stairs tried the old man sorely. He had to wait on
the first landing in order to get his breath. "Have I grown old all of
a sudden?" he asked himself in surprise.

A soldier in a red coat opened the door to him.

"Is the captain at home?" asked the turnpike-keeper.

"Sorry, but he's not," answered the lad.

"Can you tell me where I can find him?"

"That would be no good. The captain's gone away--to a court-martial."

The turnpike-keeper started violently.

"Is the court-martial on Bombardier Vogt?" he asked.

The soldier answered in the affirmative, and inquired in surprise, "Who
are you, then?"

"Vogt's father. I--I wanted to talk to the captain about my son. But it
is too late, I see."

He turned about, saying, "Thank you all the same," and went towards the
stairs. In the dark he missed the first step and stumbled; the lad ran
after him. He led the old man to the banister and said, "Take care you
don't fall; it is rather dark here. And you know, Herr Vogt,