Then the door opened and a woman stood before me, a woman
with a thin, kindly face.

'Gruss Gott,' she said, while children peeped from behind her skirts.

'Gruss Gott,' I replied. I leaned against the door-post, and speech
forsook me.

She saw my condition. 'Come in, Sir,' she said. 'You are sick and it
is no weather for a sick man.'

I stumbled after her and stood dripping in the centre of the little
kitchen, while three wondering children stared at me. It was a poor
place, scantily furnished, but a good log-fire burned on the hearth.
The shock of warmth gave me one of those minutes of self-possession
which comes sometimes in the middle of a fever.

'I am sick, mother, and I have walked far in the storm and lost my way.
I am from Africa, where the climate is hot, and your cold brings me
fever. It will pass in a day or two if you can give me a bed.'

'You are welcome,' she said; 'but first I will make you coffee.'

I took off my dripping cloak, and crouched close to the hearth. She
gave me coffee--poor washy stuff, but blessedly hot. Poverty was
spelled large in everything I saw. I felt the tides of fever beginning
to overflow my brain again, and I made a great attempt to set my
affairs straight before I was overtaken. With difficulty I took out
Stumm's pass from my pocket-book.

'That is my warrant,' I said. 'I am a member of the Imperial Secret
Service and for the sake of my work I must move in the dark. If you
will permit it, mother, I will sleep till I am better, but no one must
know that I am here. If anyone comes, you must deny my presence.'

She looked at the big seal as if it were a talisman.

'Yes, yes,' she said, 'you will have the bed in the garret and be left
in peace till you are well. We have no neighbours near, and the storm
will shut the roads. I will be silent, I and the little ones.'

My head was beginning to swim, but I made one more effort.

'There is food in my rucksack--biscuits and ham and chocolate. Pray
take it for your use. And here is some money to buy Christmas fare for
the little ones.' And I gave her some of the German notes.

After that my recollection becomes dim. She helped me up a ladder to
the garret, undressed me, and gave me a thick coarse nightgown. I seem
to remember that she kissed my hand, and that she was crying. 'The
good Lord has sent you,' she said. 'Now the little ones will have
their prayers answered and the Christkind will not pass by ou