t Herr Haase, riding proudly in
the back seat of honor, brought the motor-car to the hotel. He had
changed his garb of ceremony and servitude; he wore grey now, one of
those stomach-exposing, large-tailed coats which lend even to the
straightest man the appearance of being bandy-legged; and upon his
feet were a pair of tried and proven cloth boots.

The porter, his waistcoat buttoned for the occasion, carried out a
leather suit-case and placed it in the car, then stood aside, holding
open the door, as the Baron and Von Wetten appeared from the hall.
Von Wetten, true to his manner, saw neither Herr Haase's bow nor the
porter's lifted cap; to him, salutations and civilities came like the
air he breathed, and were as little acknowledged. The Baron gave to
Herr Haase the compliment of a glance that took in the grey coat and
the cloth boots, and the ghost of an ironic, not unkindly smile.

"Der gute Haase," he murmured, and then, as though in absence of
mind, "Poor fellow, poor fellow!"

His foot was upon the step of the car when he saw the leather
suit-case within. He paused in the act of entering.

"What is this baggage?" he inquired.

Von Wetten craned forward to look. "Oh, that! I wanted you to see the
machine at work, Excellenz, so I'm bringing a few cartridges and
things."

His Excellency withdrew his foot and stepped back. "Explosives, eh?"
He made a half-humorous grimace of distaste. "Haase, lift that bag
out carefully, man! and carry it in front with you. And tell the
chauffeur to drive cautiously!"

Their destination was to the eastward of the little town, where the
gardens of the villas trail their willow-fringes in the water. Among
them, a varnished yellow chalet lifted its tiers of glassed-in
galleries among the heavy green of fir-trees; its door, close beside
the road, was guarded by a gate of iron bars. The big car slid to a
standstill beside it with a scrape of tires in the dust.

"A moment," said the old baron, as Herr Haase lifted his hand to the
iron bell-pull that hung beside the gate. "Who are we? What names
have you given, Von Wetten? Schmidt and Meyer or something more
fanciful?"

"Much more fanciful, Excellenz." Von Wetten allowed himself a smile.
"I am Herr Wetten; Your Excellency is Herr Steinlach. It could not be
simpler."

The Baron laughed quietly. "Very good, indeed," he agreed. "And
Haase? You did not think of him? Well, the good Haase, for the time
being, shall be the Herr von Ha