water. Now please to cross the plank carefully, for what shall you say
to me if you fall in? This is my _bureau de travail_--you will tell me
how you like him by and by."

There were two barges of considerable size moored to the quay and a
substantial plank bridged the abyss between the stone and the combings
of the great hatchway. Herr Petermann went first, walking briskly in
spite of his fat; Alban, no less adroit, followed with a lad's nimble
foot and was upon the old fellow's heels when they stepped on board. The
barges, he perceived, were fully laden and covered by heavy tarpaulins.
Commodious cabins at the stern accommodated the crew--and into one of
these Herr Petermann now turned, stooping as he went and crying to his
guest to take care.

"It is rather dark, my friend, but you soon shall be accustomed to that.
This is my private room, you see. In England you would not laugh at a
man who works afloat, for you are all sailors. Now, tell me how you like
it?"

The cabin certainly was beautifully furnished. Walls of polished wood
had their adornment of excellent seascapes, many of them bought at the
Paris salon. A bureau with delightful curves and a clock set at the apex
above the writing-shelf pleased Alban immensely--he thought that he had
seen nothing more graceful even at "Five Gables"; while the chair to
match it needed no sham expert to declare its worth. The carpet was of
crimson, without pattern but elegantly bordered. There were many shelves
for books, but no evidence of commercial papers other than a great
staring ledger which was the one eyesore.

"I like your room very much indeed," said Alban upon his swift
survey--"not many people would have thought of this. We are all afraid
of the damp in England, and if we talked of a floating office, people
would think us mad." And then he added--"But you don't come here in
winter, Herr Petermann--this place is no use to you then?"

Herr Petermann smiled as though he were well pleased.

"Every place has its uses sometimes," he rejoined a little vaguely, "we
never know what is going to happen to us. That is why we should help
each other when the occasion arises. You, of course, are visiting Warsaw
merely as a tourist, Mr. Kennedy?"

"Indeed, no--I have come here to find a very old friend, the daughter--"

"No names, if you please, Mr. Kennedy. You have come here, I think you
said, to find the son of a very old friend. What makes you suppose that
I can help