lenkiron,
but the briskness of the tread was unlike his measured gait. I had
left the light burning there, and the visitor, whoever he was, had made
himself at home. I slipped on a green dressing-gown Blenkiron had lent
me, and sallied forth to investigate.

My friend Rasta was standing by the table, on which he had laid an
envelope. He looked round at my entrance and saluted.

'I come from the Minister of War, sir,' he said, 'and bring you your
passports for tomorrow. You will travel by ...' And then his voice
tailed away and his black eyes narrowed to slits. He had seen
something which switched him off the metals.

At that moment I saw it too. There was a mirror on the wall behind
him, and as I faced him I could not help seeing my reflection. It was
the exact image of the engineer on the Danube boat--blue jeans, loden
cloak, and all. The accursed mischance of my costume had given him the
clue to an identity which was otherwise buried deep in the Bosporus.

I am bound to say for Rasta that he was a man of quick action. In a
trice he had whipped round to the other side of the table between me
and the door, where he stood regarding me wickedly.

By this time I was at the table and stretched out a hand for the
envelope. My one hope was nonchalance.

'Sit down, sir,' I said, 'and have a drink. It's a filthy night to
move about in.'

'Thank you, no, Herr Brandt,' he said. 'You may burn these passports
for they will not be used.'

'Whatever's the matter with you?' I cried. 'You've mistaken the house,
my lad. I'm called Hanau--Richard Hanau--and my partner's Mr John S.
Blenkiron. He'll be here presently. Never knew anyone of the name of
Brandt, barring a tobacconist in Denver City.'

'You have never been to Rustchuk?' he said with a sneer.

'Not that I know of. But, pardon me, Sir, if I ask your name and your
business here. I'm darned if I'm accustomed to be called by Dutch
names or have my word doubted. In my country we consider that impolite
as between gentlemen.'

I could see that my bluff was having its effect. His stare began to
waver, and when he next spoke it was in a more civil tone.

'I will ask pardon if I'm mistaken, Sir, but you're the image of a man
who a week ago was at Rustchuk, a man much wanted by the Imperial
Government.'

'A week ago I was tossing in a dirty little hooker coming from
Constanza. Unless Rustchuk's in the middle of the Black Sea I've never
visited the towns