Francis,
or at the worst, hear news of him?

I sent for the Berlin Directory. I turned up the streets section and
eagerly ran my eye down the columns of the "A's." I did not find what I
was looking for, and that was an "Achilles-Strasse," either with two
"l's" or with one.

Then I tried "Eichenholz." There was an "Eichenbaum-Allee" in the Berlin
suburb called West-End, but that was all. I tried for a "Blaetter" or a
"Blatt-Strasse" with an equally negative result.

It was discouraging work, but I went back to the paper again. The only
other word likely to serve as a street remaining in the puzzle was
"Zelt."

"Wie Achiles in dem Zelte."

Wearily I opened the directory at the "Z's."

There, staring me in the face, I found the street called "In den
Zelten."

I had struck the trail at last.

In den Zelten, I discovered, on referring to the directory again,
derived its name "In the Tents," from the fact that in earlier days a
number of open-air beer-gardens and booths had occupied the site which
faces the northern side of the Tiergarten. It was not a long street. The
directory showed but fifty-six houses, several of which, I noticed, were
still beer-gardens. It appeared to be a fashionable thoroughfare, for
most of the occupants were titled people. No. 3, I was interested to
see, was still noted as the Berlin office of _The Times_.

The last phrase in the message decidedly gave the number. _Two_ must
refer to the number of the house: _third_ to the number of the floor,
since practically all dwelling-houses in Berlin are divided off into
flats.

As for the "Achiles," I gave it up.

I looked at my watch. It was twenty past eleven: too late to begin my
search that night. Then I suddenly realized how utterly exhausted I was.
I had been two nights out of bed without sleep, for I had sat up on deck
crossing over to Holland, and the succession of adventures that had
befallen me since I left London had driven all thought of weariness from
my mind. But now came the reaction and I felt myself yearning for a hot
bath and for a nice comfortable bed. To go to an hotel at that hour of
night, without luggage and with an American passport not in order, would
be to court disaster. It looked as though I should have to hang about
the cafes and night restaurants until morning, investigate the clue of
the street called In den Zelten, and then get away from Berlin as fast
as ever I could.

But my head was nodding with drowsines