ce the war began. He would, he told himself, do his best to
finish worthily the last and greatest task destiny had set him.

His self-uplifting efforts had met with a considerable measure of
success, and he had almost completely regained his usual quiet, steady
frame of mind, when his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden
challenge of the sentry outside. The challenge was apparently answered
satisfactorily, for the door was almost immediately unbolted, and a man
entered. It was with very mixed feelings that Max recognized the
manager, M. Schenk.

"You do not seem pleased to see me, Monsieur Max," observed the manager,
smiling in an ingratiating manner that to Max was more objectionable at
that moment than open triumph.

"Have I reason to?" queried Max shortly.

"I think so. But that depends as much upon you as upon me. You are aware
that you die to-morrow?"

The almost casual manner in which the manager spoke struck Max as being
doubly horrible. He seemed to think nothing at all of the execution of a
fellow-creature, and one who had been closely associated with him for a
good many years.

"I am aware of it," replied Max as quietly as he could.

"Well, it seems a pity. Such a young fellow, and one so energetic and
keen in his business, and with a brilliant future before him," said the
manager in a smooth, velvety voice that Max had known him use to
influential business men when he was specially anxious to gain his
point. "I have, in fact, Monsieur Max, been talking your unfortunate
case over with the governor. I have told him that, serious as this
offence of yours undoubtedly is, you are really the tool of others. He
is, of course, much incensed against you for the destruction of so
important a workshop, but is ready to be merciful--upon conditions."

"Ah! and what conditions?"

"Not hard ones," replied M. Schenk, obviously pleased by the eagerness
with which Max spoke. "You stole some plans of mine a month or so
ago----? Yes? I thought it must be you, and I am ready to go to some
lengths to get them back."

"They have left my hands, Monsieur Schenk."

"Where are they?"

"In the hands of the English Government."

"You rascal!" shouted M. Schenk furiously, his smooth, easy manner
utterly giving way. "You--you--but, after all, I thought as much; and
they were really of no great value," he ended lamely, recovering himself
with an obvious effort.

"I thought they were," replied Max coldly.

"No; but wha