st-glass he called it--who had been sent by the management
to open a reluctant trunk. He had entered my room, I was led to infer,
by a mistake.

"I go now, _ja_?" he concluded, as postscript to the likely tale.

"The devil you do! Do you take me for an utter fool?" I asked, excusably
nettled, and stepping to the telephone, I took the receiver from its
hook.

"Give me the manager's office, please," I requested, watching my
visitor. "Is this the manager? This is Mr. Bayne speaking, Room four
hundred and three. I've found a man investigating my trunk--a foreigner,
a German." An exclamation from the manager, and from the listening
telephone-girl a shriek! "Yes; I have him. Yes; of course I can hold
him. Send up your house detective and be quick! My dinner is spoiling--"

The receiver dropped from my hand and clattered against the wall. The
little German, suddenly galvanized, had leaped away from the trunk, not
toward me and the door beyond me, but toward the electric switch. His
fingers found and turned it, plunging the room into the darkness of the
grave. Taken unaware, I barred his path to the hall, only to hear him
fling up the window across the room. Against the faint square of light
thus revealed, I saw him hang poised a moment. Then with a desperate
noise, a moan of mixed resolve and terror, he disappeared.

CHAPTER II

DEUTSCHLAND UBER ALLES

Standing there staring after him, I felt like a murderer of the deepest
dye. It is one thing to hand over to the police their natural prey, a
thief taken red-handed, but quite another, and a much more harrowing
one, to have him slip through your fingers, precipitate himself into
mid-air, and drop four stories to the pavement, scattering his brains
far and wide. There was not a vestige of hope for the poor wretch.

Unnerved, I groped to the window and peered downward for his remains.
My first glance proved my regrets to be superfluous. Beneath my window,
which, owing to the crowded condition of the hotel, opened on a side
street, a fire-escape descended jaggedly; and upon it, just out of arm's
reach, my recent guest clung and wobbled, struggling with an attack of
natural vertigo before proceeding toward the earth.

By this time my rage was such that I would have followed that little
thief almost anywhere. It was not the dizziness of the yawning void that
stayed me. I should have climbed the Matterhorn with all cheerfulness to
catch him at the top. But sundry visions