so unusual for a person of such particular
habits as the chancellor to ride in an ordinary carriage. Carmichael
slid over to the forward seat and touched the jehu on the back.

"Where did you take the chancellor to-night?" he asked.

"_Du lieber Gott!_ Was that his excellency? He said he was the chief
steward."

"So he is, my friend. I was only jesting. Where did you take him?"

"I took him to the Krumerweg. He was there half an hour. Number forty."

"Where did you take the veiled lady?"

The coachman drew in suddenly and apprehensively. "Herr, are you from
the police?"

"Thousand thunders, no! It was by accident that I stood near the gate
when she got out. Who was she?"

"That is better. They both told me that they were giving charity. I did
not see the lady's face, but she went into number forty, the same as the
steward. You won't forget the extra crown, Herr?"

"No; I'll make it five. Turn back and leave me at the Grand Hotel."
Then he muttered: "Krumerweg, crooked way, number forty. If I see this
old side-paddler stopping at the palace steps again, I'll take a look at
number forty myself."

On the return to the hotel the station omnibus had arrived with a
solitary guest. A steamer trunk and a couple of bags were being trundled
in by the porter, while the concierge was helping a short, stocky man to
the ground. He hurried into the hotel, signed the police slips, and
asked for his room. He seemed to be afraid of the dark. He was gone when
Carmichael went into the office.

"Your Excellency," said the concierge, rubbing his hands and smiling
after the manner of concierges born in Switzerland, "a compatriot of
yours arrived this evening."

"What name?" indifferently. Compatriots were always asking impossible
things of Carmichael, introductions to the grand duke, invitations to
balls, and so forth, and swearing to have him recalled if he refused to
perform these offices.

The concierge picked up the slips which were to be forwarded to the
police.

"He is Hans Grumbach, of New York."

"An adopted compatriot, it would seem. He'll probably be over to the
consulate to-morrow to have his passports looked into. Good night."

So Hans Grumbach passed out of his mind; but for all that, fortune and
opportunity were about to knock on Carmichael's door. For there was a
great place in history ready for Hans Grumbach.

CHAPTER VI

AT THE BLACK EAGLE

The day promised to be mild. There was not a cloud a