e!_

A mere puppet. And yet a thrill of alarm, for the first time, shot
through Gard. It was not reassuring. He thought of Rudi. Was this
some official prank young Bucher had set going? It would be like
him. He must be a spy, as Anderson had insisted. Was the son trying
to act with confederates far away over here near the Rhine?

The passport! Rudi and the family knew all about it. Kirtley felt in
his inside shirt pocket. He was relieved to find the parchment still
there. How foolish he would have been to leave it in his grip, as
Rudi had urged! A traveler couldn't be with his grip every moment.
But why was such a paper considered valuable by the Secret Service?

As he returned to his seat, Kirtley gave the legs a kick "just for
luck." He could not help laughing. The burlesque! The Germans were
certainly a curious people. This was like some fantastic tale of
Hoffmann with its marionettes and other childish stuff so dear to
the race.

It came over him that this image was thus being conveniently
transported from one town to another for some show--some Jarley
waxworks. But how, then, about that other form in the train from
Eisenach? It had certainly been alive. Had he not seen it turn its
paper? Yet, was he sure? He had been half asleep and might have
imagined it.

As he revolved the matter in his mind, he was less and less
positive. At any rate, how explain the fact that this exact figure
had been on the two trains and that each time he had been with it
alone? How was it known here what trains he would take? Only the
Buchers were advised.

Whether a silly hoax or a performance of the tremendous sleuth
system of Germany, Gard was too unsettled to enjoy fully his brief
sojourn at Heidelberg. He decided to trip up any pursuers. Instead
of resuming by rail his journey to Mannheim, according to that
section of his ticket, he took an auto. For every reason that would
be pleasanter. He could see to better advantage the far-famed,
vine-clad valley of the Neckar where it merges into the wide and
noble plains of the Rhine.

From Mannheim he went by boat as proposed. His be-whiskered friend
did not put in an appearance and Kirtley congratulated himself on
the riddance. The more he reflected, the less he made any sense out
of it. Coincidence, practical joke, spy system at white heat,
hallucination--all suggestions seemed equally untenable.

At Cologne he found the newspapers full of discussions about war. On
the trip he h