took on a hard and
haunted look. That night he walked past the Palace and shook his fist at
it. He was greatly ashamed of that, however, and never repeated it. But
his soul was now an open sore, ready for infection.

And Black Humbert bided his time.

On the day of the excursion to the fortress old Adelbert decided to
appeal to his fellow lodger, Herman Spier. Now and then, when he was
affluent, he had paid small tribute to Herman by means of the camp
cookery on which he prided himself.

"A soldier's mess!" he would say, and bring in a bowl of soup, or a
slice of deer meat, broiled over hot coals in his tiny stove. "Eat it,
man. These restaurants know nothing of food."

To Herman now he turned for advice and help. It was difficult to find
the clerk. He left early, and often came home after midnight in a
curious frame of mind, a drunkenness of excitement that was worse than
that of liquor.

Herman could not help him. But he eyed the old soldier appraisingly. He
guessed shrewdly the growing uneasiness behind Adelbert's brave front.
If now one could enlist such a man for the Cause, that would be worth
doing. He had talked it over with the concierge. Among the veterans the
old man was influential, and by this new policy of substituting fresh
blood for stale, the Government had made many enemies among them.

"In a shop!" he said coldly. "With that leg? No, my friend. Two legs are
hardly enough for what we have to do."

"Then, for any sort of work. I could sweep and clean."

"I shall inquire," said Herman Spier. But he did not intend to. He had
other plans.

The old man's bitterness had been increased by two things. First,
although he had been dismissed without notice, in the middle of the
week, he had been paid only up to the hour of leaving. That was a
grievance. Second, being slow on his feet, one of the royal motorcars
had almost run him down, and the police had cursed him roundly for being
in the way.

"Why be angry?" observed the concierge, on this being reported to him.
"The streets are the King's. Who are the dogs of pedestrians but those
that pay the taxes to build them?"

At last he determined to find Haeckel, the student. He did not know his
Christian name, nor where he lodged. But he knew the corps he belonged
to, by his small gray cap with a red band.

He was very nervous when he made this final effort. Corps houses were
curious places, he had heard, and full of secrets. Even the great
professors