emains. With all except you. Why should we not be friends?"

"But we are friends--" protested Sebastian, with a bow. As if in
confirmation of the statement, he held out his beer-mug, and Barlasch
touched it with the rim of his own before drinking. Sebastian's
attitude, his bow, his manner of drinking, were those of the Court;
Barlasch was distinctly of the camp. But these were strange days, and
all society had been turned topsy-turvy by one man.

"Then," said Barlasch, licking his lips, "let us understand one another.
You say there will be no siege. I say you are wrong. You think that the
Dantzigers will rise in answer to the Emperor Alexander's proclamations,
and turn the French out. I say the Dantzigers' stomachs are too big. I
say that Rapp will hold Dantzig, and that the Russians will not take it
by storm, because they are too weak. There will be a siege, and a
long one. Are you and Mademoiselle and I going to sit it out in the
Frauengasse together?"

"We shall be honoured to have you as our guest," answered Sebastian,
with that levity which went before the Revolution, and was never
understood of the people.

Barlasch did not understand it. He glanced doubtfully at his companion,
and sipped his beer.

"Then I will begin to-night."

"Begin what, my friend?"

Barlasch waved aside all petty detail.

"My preparations. I go out about ten o'clock--after you are in. I will
take the key of the front door, and let myself in when I come back.
I shall make two journeys. Under the kitchen floor is a large hollow
space. I fill that with bags of corn."

"But where will you get the corn, my friend?"

"I know where to get it--corn and other things. Salt I have
already--enough for a year. Other things I can get for three months."

"But we have no money to pay for them."

"Bah!"

"You mean you will steal them," suggested Sebastian, not without a ring
of contempt in his mincing voice.

"A soldier never steals," answered Barlasch, carelessly announcing a
great truth.

Sebastian laughed. It was obvious that his mind, absorbed in great
thought, heeded small things not at all. His companion pushed his fur
cap to the back of his head, and ruffled his hair forward.

"That is not all," he said at length. He looked round the vast room,
which was almost deserted. The stout waitress was polishing pewter mugs
at the bar. "You say you have already had answers to those letters. It
is a great organization--your secret society--