rictly unofficial status of all
this. You see, I'm no more connected with this administration
than you are. I'm as alien as you. You might say, I'm a
stranger in Jerusalem. Yet, here I am, with a perfectly official
pistol, loaded with official cartridges, under unofficial orders
to shoot you at the first sign of disobedience. And--strictly
unofficially, between you and me--I shan't hesitate to do it!"

He contrived a smile out of the depths of his despondency.

"I wonder--should you shoot me--what they would do to
you afterwards."

"Something unofficial," I suggested. "But we'll leave that up to
them. The point is--"

"Oh, don't worry! You shall have no trouble from me." It took a
long time to reach his house, for the poor old chap was suffering
from lack of sleep, and physical weariness, as well as disappointment,
and I had to let him sit down by the wayside once or twice. Being
in hard condition, and not much more than half his age, I had almost
forgotten that I had not slept the night before. Keen curiosity as
to what might happen between now and midnight was keeping me going.

He could hardly drag himself into the house. But a bath, and
some food that I found in the larder restored him considerably.
He helped me carry out the table. He chose a book of Schiller's
poems to take with him, but did not read it; he sat with his
elbows on the table and his back toward the front door, resting
his chin gloomily on both fists. He remained in that attitude
all afternoon, and for all I know slept part of the time.

Between him and the window of the room I sat in were some shrubs
that obscured the view considerably. I could see Scharnhoff
through them easily enough, but I don't think he could see me,
and certainly no one could have seen me from the road. I felt
fairly sure that no one saw me until it began to grow dark and I
carried out the lamp. Even then, it was Scharnhoff who struck
the match and lit it, so that I was in shadow all the time--
probably unrecognizable.

It had been fairly easy to keep awake until then, but as the room
grew darker and darker, and nothing happened, the yearning to
fall asleep became actual agony. It was a rather large, square
room, crowded up with a jumble of antiquities. The only real
furniture was the window-seat on which I knelt, and an oblong
table; but even the table was laid on its side to make room for
a battered Roman bust standing on the floor between its le