d spoken of as not
unknown in the German army. The room seemed a horribly unwholesome
place, and I was more than ever afraid of Stumm.

The hearthrug was a wonderful old Persian thing, all faint greens and
pinks. As he stood on it he looked uncommonly like a bull in a
china-shop. He seemed to bask in the comfort of it, and sniffed like a
satisfied animal. Then he sat down at an escritoire, unlocked a drawer
and took out some papers.

'We will now settle your business, friend Brandt,' he said. 'You will
go to Egypt and there take your orders from one whose name and address
are in this envelope. This card,' and he lifted a square piece of grey
pasteboard with a big stamp at the corner and some code words
stencilled on it, 'will be your passport. You will Show it to the man
you seek. Keep it jealously, and never use it save under orders or in
the last necessity. It is your badge as an accredited agent of the
German Crown.'

I took the card and the envelope and put them in my pocket-book.

'Where do I go after Egypt?' I asked.

'That remains to be seen. Probably you will go up the Blue Nile. Riza,
the man you will meet, will direct you. Egypt is a nest of our agents
who work peacefully under the nose of the English Secret Service.'

'I am willing,' I said. 'But how do I reach Egypt?'

'You will travel by Holland and London. Here is your route,' and he
took a paper from his pocket. 'Your passports are ready and will be
given you at the frontier.'

This was a pretty kettle of fish. I was to be packed off to Cairo by
sea, which would take weeks, and God knows how I would get from Egypt
to Constantinople. I saw all my plans falling to pieces about my ears,
and just when I thought they were shaping nicely.

Stumm must have interpreted the look on my face as fear.

'You have no cause to be afraid,' he said. 'We have passed the word to
the English police to look out for a suspicious South African named
Brandt, one of Maritz's rebels. It is not difficult to have that kind
of a hint conveyed to the proper quarter. But the description will not
be yours. Your name will be Van der Linden, a respectable Java
merchant going home to his plantations after a visit to his native
shores. You had better get your _dossier_ by heart, but I guarantee
you will be asked no questions. We manage these things well in
Germany.'

I kept my eyes on the fire, while I did some savage thinking. I knew
they would not let