eed of his confidence. But, before making use of him in
the second capacity, I desired to make the acquaintance of the adjoining
partie carree. He had bowed to them familiarly in passing, and when the
old gentleman said, "Will you not join us, Herr ----?" I answered my
friend's interrogative glance with a decided affirmative, and we moved
to the other table.

My seat was beside the Baron von Herisau, with whom I exchanged the
usual commonplaces after an introduction. His manner was cold and
taciturn, I thought, and there was something forced in the smile which
accompanied his replies to the remarks of the coarse old lady, who
continually referred to the "Herr Baron" as authority upon every
possible subject. I noticed, however, that he cast a sudden, sharp
glance at me, when I was presented to the company as an American.

The man's neighborhood disturbed me. I was obliged to let the
conversation run in the channels already selected, and stupid enough I
found them. I was considering whether I should not give a signal to my
friend and withdraw, when the Baron stretched his hand across the table
for a bottle of Affenthaler, and I caught sight of a massive gold ring
on his middle finger. Instantly I remembered the ring which "B. V. H."
had given to Otto Lindenschmidt, and I said to myself, "That is it!"
The inference followed like lightning that it was "Johann Helm" who sat
beside me, and not a Baron von Herisau!

That evening my friend and I had a long, absorbing conversation in my
room. I told him the whole story, which came back vividly to memory, and
learned, in return, that the reputed Baron was supposed to be wealthy,
that the old gentleman was a Bremen merchant or banker, known to be
rich, that neither was considered by those who had met them to be
particularly intelligent or refined, and that the wooing of the daughter
had already become so marked as to be a general subject of gossip.
My friend was inclined to think my conjecture correct, and willingly
co-operated with me in a plan to test the matter. We had no considerable
sympathy with the snobbish parents, whose servility to a title was
so apparent; but the daughter seemed to be an innocent and amiable
creature, however silly, and we determined to spare her the shame of an
open scandal.

If our scheme should seem a little melodramatic, it must not be
forgotten that my friend was an author. The next morning, as the Baron
came up the terrace after his visit to