studied untidiness, and even then better than a room I shall show you
in the cellar, filled to overflowing with boxes containing the winter's
ashes. Know you," he went on, dropping his voice, "that these barrels
and boxes are but--a third full of rubbish. Below that in cases is--what
we speak of."

"But I thought--a peaceful revolution, a--"

"We prepare for contingencies. Peace if possible. If not, war. I am
telling you much because, by your oath, you are now one of us, and bound
to secrecy. But, beside that, I trust you. You are a man of your word."

"Yes," said old Adelbert, drawing himself up. "I am a man of my word.
But you cannot fight with cartridges alone."

"We have rifles, also, in other places. Even I do not know where all of
them are concealed." The concierge chuckled in his beard. "The Committee
knows men well. It trusts none too much. There are other depots
throughout the city, each containing supplies of one sort and another.
On the day of the uprising each patriot will be told where to go for
equipment. Not before."

Old Adelbert was undoubtedly impressed. He regarded the concierge with
furtive eyes. He, Adelbert, had lived in the house with this man of
parts for years, and had regarded him as but one of many.

Black Humbert, waiting for the hour to start and filling his tankard
repeatedly, grew loquacious. He hinted of past matters in which he had
proved his value to the cause. Old Adelbert gathered that, if he had
not actually murdered the late Crown Prince and his wife, he had been
closely concerned in it. His thin, old flesh crept with anxiety. It was
a bad business, and he could not withdraw.

"We should have had the child, too," boasted the concierge, "and saved
much bother. But he had been, unknown to us, sent to the country. A
matter of milk, I believe."

"But you say you do not war on children!"

"Bah! A babe of a few months. Furthermore," said the concierge, "I have
a nose for the police. I scent a spy, as a dog scents a bone. Who, think
you, discovered Haeckel?"

"Haeckel!" Old Adelbert sat upright in his chair.

"Aye, Haeckel, Haeckel the jovial, the archconspirator, who himself
assisted to erect the press you hear beneath your feet. Who but I?
I suspected him. He was too fierce. He had no caution. He was what a
peaceful citizen may fancy a revolutionist to be. I watched him. He was
not brave. He was reckless because he had nothing to fear. And at last I
caught him."

Old Adelb