many."

"I am glad you think so, sir, for I hope you will stay long with us, and
be so well pleased that you will come again."

"I shall certainly remain with you, if I ever come back again, for I
like both you and your good frau. But to-morrow I must away to Berlin on
business."

"So soon?"

"Yes. My life is made up of business and pleasure. Business must have an
inning now."

"I am sorry, sir," said the old man, sadly.

"Oh, well; others will come."

"Visitors are rare here, sir. Now and then a poor artist stops here, and
sometimes tourists wander this way; but it is a life-time rarity to meet
with a rich cosmopolitan like yourself, who is willing to help us along
a bit."

"But you must be well off in any event."

"No, sir; although we should be if the thousand marks' mortgage was paid
off."

"When it is due?"

"Within a week."

"And how much have you towards it?"

"Five hundred."

"All right; keep the five hundred, and here are a thousand to free you
from embarrassment," said Barnwell, counting out the bills.

The old landlord was so overcome that he fell upon his knees speechless,
seeing which, his wife ran to him, thinking him ill.

"Oh, Gretchen! Look at him; the good American gentleman has saved us and
our home!"

"Oh, sir, what induced you?"

"The idea of making somebody as happy as I am myself. Take it and be
happy. All I ask in return is that you be good to the poor and
unfortunate."

"Oh, sir, bless you!" cried the landlord.

"Amen! And you shall have just the nicest dinner you ever had in your
life," said his wife, brushing the tears from her eyes and hurrying
away.

CHAPTER XVI.

TRUE TO HIS TRUST.

That night, after all had retired, William Barnwell, in the privacy of
his own chamber, untied one of the bags, and emptied its contents upon
his bed, so that the noise of the jingle might be smothered.

He was a good judge of Russian gold, and this he found to be genuine,
coined in double roubles, with dates mostly before and during the reign
of Czar Nicholas, the tyrant par excellence of Russia, which is saying
much.

He was a ruler who knew nothing of humanity or justice, who was quite as
bad, save in form and outward show, as Catherine or her barbarian
predecessors, always excepting Peter the Great.

It took England, France and Sardinia to teach him the rudiments of
civilization, and even then he died a barbarian at heart, as he had
always lived, leaving a conquered m