ou
know better than I do!"

"But Clubfoot," I asked, "who is he?"

"There are many who have asked that question," Red Tabs replied gravely,
"and some have not waited long for their answer. The man was known by
name and reputation to very few, by sight to even fewer, yet I doubt if
any man of his time wielded greater power in secret than he.
Officially, he was nothing, he didn't exist; but in the dark places,
where his ways were laid, he watched and plotted and spied for his
master, the tool of the Imperial spite as he was the instrument of the
Imperial vengeance.

"A man like the Kaiser," my friend continued, "monarch though he is,
has many enemies naturally, and makes many more. Head of the Army,
head of the Navy, head of the Church, head of the State--undisputed,
autocratic head--he is confronted at every turn by personal issues
woven and intertwined with political questions. It was in this sphere,
where the personal is grafted on the political, that Clubfoot reigned
supreme ... here and in another sphere, where German William is not only
monarch, but also a very ordinary man.

"There are phases in every man's life, Okewood, which hardly bear the
light of day. In an autocracy, however, such phases are generally
inextricably entangled with political questions. It was in these dark
places that Clubfoot flourished ... he and his men ... 'the G gang' we
called them, from the letter 'G' (signifying _Garde_ or _Guard_) on
their secret-service badges.

"Clubfoot was answerable to no one save to the Emperor alone. His work
was of so delicate, so confidential a nature, that he rendered an
account of his services only to his Imperial master. There was none to
stay his hand, to check him in his courses, save only this neurotic,
capricious cripple who is always open to flattery...."

Red Tabs thought for a minute and then went on.

"No one may catalogue," he said, "the crimes that Clubfoot committed,
the infamies he had to his account. Not even the Kaiser himself, I dare
say, knows the manner in which his orders to this black-guard were
executed--orders rapped out often enough, I swear, in a fit of
petulance, a gust of passion, and forgotten the next moment in the
excitement of some fresh sensation.

"I know a little of Clubfoot's record, of innocent lives wrecked, of
careers ruined, of sudden disappearances, of violent deaths. When you
and your brother put it across der Stelze, Okewood, you settled a long
outstanding