to warn you of that possibility that I am here."

"How much do you know personally," Seaman asked, "of the existent
circumstances?"

The man shook his head vaguely.

"I know nothing," he admitted. "I went out to East Africa some years
ago, and I have been a trader in Mozambique in a small way. I supplied
outfits for officers and hospitals and sportsmen. Now and then I have
to return to Europe to buy fresh stock. Doctor Schmidt knew that, and he
came to see me just before I sailed. He first thought of writing a very
long letter. Afterwards he changed his mind. He wrote only these few
lines I brought, but he told me those other things."

"You have remembered all that he told you?" Dominey asked.

"I can think of nothing else," was the reply, after a moment's pause.
"The whole affair has been a great worry to Doctor Schmidt. There are
things connected with it which he has never understood, things connected
with it which he has always found mysterious."

"Hence your presence here, Johann Wolff?" Seaman asked, in an altered
tone.

The visitor's expression remained unchanged except for the faint
surprise which shone out of his blue eyes.

"Johann Wolff," he repeated. "That is not my name. I am Ludwig Miller,
and I know nothing of this matter beyond what I have told you. I am just
a messenger."

"Once in Vienna and twice in Cracow, my friend, we have met," Seaman
reminded him softly but very insistently.

The other shook his head gently. "A mistake. I have been in Vienna once
many years ago, but Cracow never."

"You have no idea with whom you are talking?"

"Herr Seaman was the name, I understood."

"It is a very good name," Seaman scoffed. "Look here and think."

He undid his coat and waistcoat and displayed a plain vest of chamois
leather. Attached to the left-hand side of it was a bronze decoration,
with lettering and a number. Miller stared at it blankly and shook his
head.

"Information Department, Bureau Twelve, password--'The Day is coming,'"
Seaman continued, dropping his voice.

His listener shook his head and smiled with the puzzled ignorance of a
child.

"The gentleman mistakes me for some one else," he replied. "I know
nothing of these things."

Seaman sat and studied this obstinate visitor for several minutes
without speaking, his finger tips pressed together, his eyebrows gently
contracted. His vis-a-vis endured this scrutiny without flinching, calm,
phlegmatic, the very prototype of the b