nglishman would not know him. Renwick had no
fear of meeting the man on even terms, but the thought of being stabbed
in the back or shot at by any casual passer-by was disturbing to his
morale. Every innocent bush, every tree was an enemy. What did the green
limousine chap look like? A Prussian? With a bulky nose, small mustache,
and no back to his head? Or was he small, clean shaven, and ferret-like?
How would he be dressed? In mufti? Or in some favoring disguise which
might better lend itself to his purposes?

Renwick rose suddenly and, with a careful glance about him, made slowly
for the Lateimer Bridge, sure at least, that he had not been followed,
and convinced that he must equalize the hazards between this German and
himself by playing the game according to the standards of the
Wilhelmstrasse. So he found his way carefully into the Carsija, and
found a stall where he managed to buy a native Bosnian costume,--fez,
white shirt, short jacket, wide trousers fitting close below the knee,
sash and slippers. His automatic having been taken by the prudent Linke,
he was unarmed, but managed to find a revolver of American make and
cartridges which fitted it. With his newly acquired purchases he
returned in the darkness to the other bank of the river, where he found
a small inn in the Bistrick quarter.

He concealed ten one hundred _kroner_ notes in the lining at the belt of
the trousers, and pinned it securely. The remainder of his money, a few
fifty crown notes and coins, he put in his pockets with his watch and
other valuables, and changed his clothing. When he had finished dressing
he examined himself in a mirror. His face was tanned by exposure, and
the dust of the journey which he retained gave him a soiled appearance
sufficiently Oriental. He was now Stefan Thomasevic, a seller of sheep
and goats, which he had brought to the market. He left his English
clothing in a bundle in the care of the innkeeper and advising the man
that he would return later in the night or at least upon the morrow,
went forth across the river again, with a sense of greater security from
the observations of any who meant mischief to Hugh Renwick. If he did
not know what the green limousine chap looked like, the limousine chap
at least could not know him.

As he slouched through the alleys of the Carsija, reassured as to the
completeness of his disguise, he smoked a native cigarette, and asked
many questions among the keepers of the stalls, sq