he had not the power to consent; he
had his instructions, precise and clear, from the Emperor himself. At
any cost, that power must be his, and his alone!

At any cost! Pachmann drew a deep breath. He knew now what the cost must
be. Well, when the moment came, he should not hesitate!

Sunday morning found Pachmann beside the assistant purser in the library
of the second-cabin, beginning the inquiry there. It was even more
drastic than it had been in the first, and the victims emerged from it
heated, angry, and with the fixed determination never again to travel by
a German boat. Neither the Captain nor the purser could vouch for any of
the undistinguished people here, and so each one of them was most
thoroughly examined. Even those with passports did not escape. Pachmann
examined all such documents minutely, compared the written description
point by point with the appearance of the passenger, and asked many
questions to satisfy himself that the person presenting it was really
the one to whom it belonged. Yet, in spite of all this, passenger after
passenger came through the ordeal successfully.

As the list was called alphabetically, it was soon the turn of M.
Chevrial. He approached the table with confidence, produced his
passport, and sat down to await such questions as might be asked him.
Pachmann glanced at the Frenchman and his eyes narrowed with anger, for
this impudent person appeared to be amused at the proceedings! Then he
picked up the passport and studied it carefully. It had been issued by
the French government two months previously, as a renewal of a former
passport, to Andre Chevrial, wine-merchant, of 18 Rue des Chantiers,
Paris; whose appearance and physical characteristics were described in
detail. Pachmann compared the items of the description point by point
with the man who sat smiling so shamelessly before him, answering the
purser's questions in an ironical voice. The very fact that the man was
so typically French and so plainly amused created in Pachmann's mind a
flair of suspicion which dilated his nostrils and narrowed his eyes. But
the passport was in perfect order, and Chevrial's answers came without
hesitation.

"You are a wine-merchant?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been in that business?"

"More years than I care to remember."

"That is not an answer."

"Let us say twenty years, then."

"Always at Paris?"

"The time before that did not count."

"Then you have not been always at