e wind, the humidity of the
air, the distance across King Street and the height of
the C.P.R. Building. All this we wired to Germany every
day."

"For what purpose?" I asked.

"Pardon me!" said the General, and then, turning the
subject with exquisite tact: "Do you remember Max?" he
said.

"Do you mean the tall melancholy looking waiter, who used
to eat the spare oysters and drink up what was left in
the glasses, behind the screen?"

"Ha!" exclaimed my friend. "But _why_ did he drink them?
_Why?_ Do you know that that man--his real name is not
Max but Ernst Niedelfein--is one of the greatest chemists
in Germany? Do you realise that he was making a report
to our War Office on the percentage of alcohol obtainable
in Toronto after closing time?"

"And Karl?" I asked.

"Karl was a topographist in the service of his High
Serenity the King Regnant of Bavaria"--here my friend
saluted himself with both hands and blinked his eyes four
times--"He made maps of all the breweries of Canada. We
know now to a bottle how many German soldiers could be
used in invading Canada without danger of death from
drought."

"How many was it?" I asked.

Boobenstein shook his head.

"Very disappointing," he said. "In fact your country is
not yet ripe for German occupation. Our experts say that
the invasion of Canada is an impossibility unless we use
Milwaukee as a base--But step into my motor," said the
Count, interrupting himself, "and come along with me.
Stop, you are cold. This morning air is very keen. Take
this," he added, picking off the fur cap from the
chauffeur's head. "It will be better than that hat you
are wearing--or, here, wait a moment--"

As he spoke, the Count unwound a woollen muffler from
the chauffeur's neck, and placed it round mine.

"Now then," he added, "this sheepskin coat--"

"My dear Count," I protested.

"Not a bit, not a bit," he cried, as he pulled off the
chauffeur's coat and shoved me into it. His face beamed
with true German generosity.

"Now," he said as we settled back into the motor and
started along the road, "I am entirely at your service.
Try one of these cigars! Got it alight? Right! You notice,
no doubt, the exquisite flavour. It is a _Tannhauser_.
Our chemists are making these cigars now out of the refuse
of the tanneries and glue factories."

I sighed involuntarily. Imagine trying to "blockade" a
people who could make cigars out of refuse; imagine trying
to get near them at all