-quarters of an hour, his idea, I suppose, being completely
to mystify me. At length we arrived at a door deep under-ground, upon
which Bluteisen knocked mysteriously. Receiving no answer he turned to
me and said, "Push." I leaned hard upon the door, fell suddenly forward
and stepped briskly into the room.

We were in total darkness save for a circle of green light at the
further end of the apartment. In this circle was a desk, at which was
seated a man writing. One glance at him and I trembled with excitement.
_I was in the Presence._

For fully thirty minutes he kept me standing. Nothing was heard but an
occasional graunch, graunch, as he devoured the end of his pen. At last
he spoke. "Number?" he said.

I was about to stammer an explanation, but Bluteisen cut me short with a
warning look, saluted and said, "Three nine double nine."

"How long have you been here?" the Personage asked.

"About three hours," I replied.

He seemed pleased. Then he gave me a paper. "Read that," he said.

I read it. My hair, usually complacent, rose with fear and astonishment.
What I read was this:--"You will blow up the British Albert Memorial at
your earliest convenience. Telegraph when completed, if still alive."

"Have you got it?" he asked. I could only nod. He then held the paper in
the flame of a candle till he scorched his finger and thumb.

"You will never see that again," he said. And I never did. Then he
thrust his face at me. "You will succeed?" he snapped. "Sire," I
ventured, my head swimming with apprehension, "I--I humbly apologise,
but I--I have never yet blown up anything."

"What!" he shrieked, giving to his moustaches an upward direction,
"what! you are Number three nine double nine, from the Ammunition
section, are you not?"

"No, Sire," I replied, "I'm sorry, but I'm not in any section at all."

There was a terrible silence. With one eye he annihilated me, with the
other he detained Bluteisen, who was sneaking off into the darkness.
Then in a fury he hissed, "What are you? What are you doing here?"

With choking voice I blurted out the simple truth. "Sire," I said, "I
have the honour to inform you that I am here to tune the Imperial
piano."

I understand that I am to be shot at dawn to-morrow. So, thank heaven,
is Bluteisen.

* * * * *

THE DOCTHOR'S WAR SPEECH.

Martin Cassidy told it to me. He was there, and he saw the boys form
fours when they marched to the statio