s honour. Stralsund, ringing with
the ancient name of Lohm, would be forced to ring simultaneously with
the less ancient and not in itself interesting name of Meyer. He had
arrested Lohm, he had special charge of the case, he could not but be
talked about at last. His zeal and satisfaction accordingly were great,
carrying him far beyond the limits usual on such occasions. Axel stood
amazed at the trick of fortune that had so suddenly flung him into the
power of a young man called Meyer.

Soon after he was locked in his cell, a warder came in with a great pot
of liquid food, a sort of thick soup made chiefly of beans, with other
bodies, unknown to Axel, floating about among them.

"Your plate," said the warder, jerking his head in the direction of the
little shelf on which stood Axel's dining facilities; and he raised the
pot preparatory to pouring out some of its contents.

"Thank you," said Axel, "I don't want any."

"You'll be hungry then," said the man, going away. "There is no more
food to-day."

Axel said nothing, and he went out. The smell of the soup, which was
apparently of great potency, filled the little room. Axel tried to open
the window wider, but though he was tall and he stood on his table, he
could not reach it.

It began to get dark. The lamps in the street below were lit, and the
shouts of the children at play came up to him. He guessed that it must
be past nine, and wondered how long he was to be left there without a
light. As it grew darker, his thoughts grew very dark. He paced up and
down more and more restlessly, trying to force them into clearness. In
the hurry and dismay he had left his keys at Lohm, he remembered, and
all his money and papers were at the mercy of the first-comer. And he
was poor; he could not afford to lose any money, or any time. Supposing
he were to be kept here more than a few hours, what would become of his
farming, just now at its busiest season, his people used to his constant
direction and control, his inspector accustomed to do nothing without
the master's orders? And what would be the moral effect on them of his
arrest? If he had a pencil and paper he would write some hasty messages
to keep them all at their posts till his return; but he had no writing
materials, he was quite helpless. He had sent urgent word to his lawyer
in Stralsund, telegraphing to him through Manske before leaving home,
and he had expected to find him waiting for him at the prison. But he
h