admirable precaution," said Sanderman, with unmoved politeness.
"May I see it? Thanks," he added, glancing over the document which the
American produced from his pocket. "I see that you are a born American
citizen--and an earlier knowledge of that fact would have prevented
this little contretemps. You are aware, Mr. Hoffman, that your name is
German?"

"It was borne by my ancestors, who came from this country two centuries
ago," said Hoffman, curtly.

"We are indeed honored by your return to it," returned Sanderman
suavely, "but it was the circumstance of your name being a local one,
and the possibility of your still being a German citizen liable to
unperformed military duty, which has caused the trouble." His manner was
clearly civil and courteous, but Hoffman felt that all the time his own
face and features were undergoing a profound scrutiny from the speaker.

"And you are making sure that you will know me again?" said Hoffman,
with a smile.

"I trust, indeed, both," returned Sanderman, with a bow, "although
you will permit me to say that your description here," pointing to the
passport, "scarcely does you justice. ACH GOTT! it is the same in all
countries; the official eye is not that of the young DAMEN."

Hoffman, though not conceited, had not lived twenty years without
knowing that he was very good-looking, yet there was something in the
remark that caused him to color with a new uneasiness.

The Ober-Inspector rose with another bow, and moved toward the door. "I
hope you will let me make amends for this intrusion by doing anything I
can to render your visit here a pleasant one. Perhaps," he added, "it is
not for long."

But Hoffman evaded the evident question, as he resented what he imagined
was a possible sneer.

"I have not yet determined my movements," he said.

The Ober-Inspector brought his heels together in a somewhat stiffer
military salute and departed.

Nothing, however, could have exceeded the later almost servile urbanity
of the landlord, who seemed to have been proud of the official visit to
his guest. He was profuse in his attentions, and even introduced him to
a singularly artistic-looking man of middle age, wearing an order in his
buttonhole, whom he met casually in the hall.

"Our Court photographer," explained the landlord with some fervor,
"at whose studio, only a few houses distant, most of the Hoheiten and
Prinzessinen of Germany have sat for their likenesses."

"I should feel h