"I am beginning to see my way dimly, dimly. A
deserter a German and that scar is your passport! Ye-es! Well, will
you tell me, Herr Bettermann, in plain German, how you came by that
scar?"

"Yes," said Bettermann, fiercely, "I will!"

Behind him, where the house windows shone rosy in the sunset, Herr
Haase could see upon the lower balcony the shimmer of a white frock
and a face that peeped and drew back. The little wife was listening.

"It was the captain of my company," said Bettermann, with a glare at
Von Wetten. "Another Prussian swine-dog like this brute here." He
waited. Von Wetten regarded him with stony calm and did not move.
Bettermann flushed. "He sent me for his whip, and when I brought it,
he called me to attention and cut me over the face with it."

"Eh?" The old baron sat up. "Aber-"

"Just one cut across the face, me with my heels glued together and my
hands nailed to my sides," went on Bettermann. "Then 'Dismiss!' he
ordered, and I saluted and turned about and marched away with my
smashed face. And then you ask me if I am a Swiss!" He laughed again.

"But," demanded the Baron, "what had you done? Why did he do that to
you?"

"Didn't I tell you he was a Prussian swine?" cried Bettermann. "Isn't
that reason enough? But, if you will know, he'd seen me speak to a
lady in the street. Afterwards me standing to attention, of course!
he made a foul comment on her, and asked me for her name and
address."

"And you wouldn't tell him?"

"Tell him!" cried Bettermann. "No!"

Herr Haase saw the girl on the balcony lean forward as though to hear
the word, its pride and its bitterness, and draw back again as though
to hear it had been all that she desired.

"Von Wetten!" The Baron spoke briskly. "You hear what Herr Bettermann
tells me? Such things happen in the army do they?"

Von Wetten shrugged. "They are strictly illegal, sir," he replied,
formally. "There are severe penalties prescribed for such actions.
But, in the army, in the daily give-and-take of the life of a
regiment, of course, they do happen. Herr Bettermann," very stiffly,
"was unfortunate."

Betterman was staring at him, but said nothing. The Baron glanced
from Von Wetten to the lean young man and shook his head.

"I am beginning I think I am beginning to see," he said. "And it
seems to me that I shall not need that cheque-book. Herr Bettermann,
I am very sure you have not forgotten the name of that officer."

"Forgotten!" said the othe