t one side; against the wall was an extemporized
bookcase of stained wood which held an array of German books, worn, but
prim and tight in their bindings. On a table lay a flat stone; and a
small shining oil can stood near it. Bohlmier was now seated, a knife in
his hand--a huge knife, with the blade ground and re-ground until it had
arrived at a murderous narrowness; and he now held it up, looking
placidly along its glimmering length through his rimmed spectacles.

"No," said he, and the shining bald head wagged in a sort of bland
humor, "your friend does not care much for der day dimes." And then
shifting a steady childlike stare upon the big man, he asked: "You haf
nod known him long, is it?"

"Not very," replied Bat. "Only a short time."

Bohlmier nodded. Then he laid the thin blade against the stone upon the
table, kissing it gently along its full length of edge. The man's breath
seemed to hiss softly as the steel slipped across the stone; and as it
turned deftly and came back, the hiss changed to a blissful, watery
gurgling, thin and long drawn in. A prickling ran across Scanlon's
scalp; he had the sensation of warm flesh being cleverly and slowly laid
open with a razor-like blade which had sand upon its edge.

[Illustration: HE LIFTED THE BLADE ONCE MORE]

There was a cherubic smile upon the face of the old Swiss as he lifted
the blade once more and ran his thumb down its length.

"Hah!" he said, "it is goot. I vill do no more."

Carefully, he wiped the knife and stone with a cloth and laid them
aside. After this he polished his big spectacles and surveyed Bat
minutely.

"You are a stranger in der city, I belief," stated he.

"I don't know much about it," replied Bat, and for this he eased his
conscience with the reflection that few men did.

"It's a fine blace," said Bohlmier. "Der gelt is plenty, if a man der
nerve haf." Here a canary in a small cage, hung high among the plants,
began a long thrill, liquid and full. The Swiss smiled with pleased
surprise. "Ah, rasgal!" admonished he, shaking one fond finger. "Is id
not asleeb? Is dis der hour for enchoyments? Right away, now, der head
under der ving, or to scold I vill begin."

The bird, as though understanding, ceased its song; then the man turned
to Bat once more.

"Our friendt vill tell you some dings," said he. "He is an enterbrising
man. It vill pay you to listen."

A little later Scanlon wandered into a large room, leading off from the
off