tor left the room as swiftly as his short legs could carry
him, ignoring the ethics of common politeness. As he stumbled down the
stairs he cursed the minister of police for requiring this spy work of
him, and not informing him why it was done. Ah, these cursed Anglais
from Angleterre! They were all alike, and this one was the worst he had
ever encountered. And those ugly black orifices in the gun! Peste! He
would resign! Yes, certainly he would resign.

As to the Englishman, he stood in the center of the room and scratched
his head. "Hang it, I've made an ass of myself. That blockhead will have
the gendarmes about my ears. If they arrest me there will be the devil
to pay. The Lord and the Baronet Fitzgerald!" he repeated. He sat down
on the edge of the bed, and fell to laughing again. "Confound these
picture-book kingdoms! They always take themselves so seriously. Well,
if the gendarmes call this afternoon I'll not be at home. No, thank you.
I shall be hunting pheasants."

And thereat he set to work cleaning the gun which had all but prostrated
the inspector. Soon the room smelled of oiled rags and tobacco.
Some-times the worker whistled softly. Sometimes he let the gun fall
against his knee, and stared dreamily through the window at the flight
of the ragged clouds. Again, he would shake his head, as if there were
something which he failed to understand. Half an hour passed, when again
some one knocked on the door.

"Come in!" Under his breath he added: "The gendarmes, likely."

But it was only the proprietor of the hotel. "Asking Herr's pardon," he
said, "for this intrusion, but I have secured a man for you. I have the
honor to recommend Johann Kopf as a good guide and hunter."

"Send him up. If he pleases me, I'll use him."

The proprietor withdrew.

Johann Kopf proved to be a young German with a round, ruddy face,
which was so innocent of guile as to be out of harmony with the
shrewd, piercing black eyes looking out of it. The Englishman eyed him
inquisitively, even suspiciously.

"Are you a good hunter?" he asked.

"There is none better hereabout," answered Johann, twirling his cap with
noticeably white fingers. It was only in after days that the Englishman
appreciated the full significance of this answer.

"Speak English?"

"No. Herr's German is excellent, however."

"Humph!" The Englishman gave a final glance into the shining tubes of
the gun, snapped the breach, and slipped it into the case. "You'l