ould have preferred to pursue his
solitary if uncertain way. But Nikky was no half Samaritan. Toward Peter
Niburg's lodging, then, they made a slow progress.

"These recent gentlemen," said Nikky, as they rent along, "they are,
perhaps, personal enemies?"

"I do not know. I saw nothing."

"One was very large, a giant of a man. Do you now such a man?"

Peter Niburg reflected. He thought not. "But I know why they came," he
said unguardedly. "Some early morning, my friend, you will hear of man
lying dead in the street, That man will be I."

"The thought has a moral," observed Nikky. "Do not trust yourself
out-of-doors at night."

But he saw that Peter Niburg kept his hand over breast-pocket.

Never having dealt in mysteries, Nikky was slow recognizing one. But, he
reflected, many things were going on in the old city in these troubled
days.

Came to Nikky, all at once; that this man on his arm might be one of the
hidden eyes of Government.

"These are difficult times," he ventured, "for those who are loyal."

Peter Niburg gave him a sidelong glance. "Difficult indeed," he said
briefly.

"But," said Nikky, "perhaps we fear too much. The people love the boy
Prince. And without the people revolution can accomplish nothing."

"Nothing at all," assented Peter Niburg.

"I think," Nikky observed, finding his companion unresponsive, "that,
after I see you safely home, I shall report this small matter to the
police. Surely there cannot be in the city many such gorillas as our
friend with the beard and the huge body."

But here Peter Niburg turned even paler. "Not--not the police!" he
stammered.

"But why? You and I, my friend, will carry their insignia for some days.
I have a mind to pay our debts."

Peter Niburg considered. He stopped and faced Nikky. "I do not wish the
police," he said. "Perhaps I have said too little. This is a private
matter. An affair of jealousy."

"I see!"

"Naturally, not a matter for publicity."

"Very well," Nikky assented. But in his mind was rising, dark suspicion.
He had stumbled on something. He cursed his stupidity that it meant, so
far, nothing more than a mystery to him. He did not pride himself on his
intelligence.

"You were not alone, I think?"

Peter Niburg suddenly remembered Herman, and stopped.

"Your friend must have escaped."

"He would escape," said Peter Niburg scornfully. "He is of the type that
runs."

He lapsed into sullen silence. Soon he paused before