without
objective, save as it would serve to move troops toward the border.
After that Nikky found it easier.

But, with his course assured, other difficulties presented themselves.
To take the letter to those who would receive it was one thing. But
to deliver it, with all that it might contain, was another. He was not
brilliant, was Nikky. Only brave and simple of heart, and unversed in
the ways of darkness.

If, now, he could open the letter and remove it, substituting--well,
what could he substitute? There were cigarette papers in his pocket.
Trust Nikky for that. But how to make the exchange?

Nikky pondered. To cut the side of the envelope presented itself. But
it was not good enough. The best is none too good when one's life is at
stake.

The engine was boiling hard, a dull roaring under the hood that
threatened trouble. He drew up beside the road and took off the
water-cap. Then he whistled. Why, of course! Had it not been done from
time immemorial, this steaming of letters? He examined it. It bore no
incriminating seal.

He held the envelope over the water-cap, and was boyishly pleased to
feel the flap loosen. After all, things were easy enough if one used
one's brains. He rather regretted using almost all of his cigarette
papers, of course. He had, perhaps, never heard of the drop of nicotine
on the tongue of a dog.

As for the letter itself, he put it, without even glancing at it, into
his cap, under the lining. Then he sealed the envelope again and dried
it against one of the lamps. It looked, he reflected, as good as new.

He was extremely pleased with himself.

Before he returned to the machine he consulted his watch. It was three
o'clock. True, the long early spring night gave him four more hours of
darkness. But the messenger was due at three, at the hunting-lodge in,
the mountains which was his destination. He would be, at the best, late
by an hour.

He pushed the car to its limit. The fine hard road, with its border
of trees, stretched ahead. Nikky surveyed it with a soldier's eye. A
military road, or he knew nothing--one along which motor-lorries could
make express time. A marvelous road, in that sparsely settled place.
Then he entered the forest, that kingly reserve in which Karl ran deer
for pastime.

He was nearing his destination.

On what the messenger had told him Nikky hung his hope of success. This
was, briefly, that he should go to the royal shooting-box at Wedeling,
and shoul