self as playing anything but a secondary part in the drama
that was destined to end so tragically. Instinctively I took a liking to
the man; perhaps not so much because of the fact that he had been Max's
friend as because of what I felt to be his inherent good qualities.
When, at my request, he consented to serve me as one of my
gentlemen-in-waiting, I felt that I had secured a friend whose fidelity
was in no way dependent upon the rewards or emoluments he might receive.

That evening the body of my brother was to be conveyed to the Council
Hall, where it would remain closely guarded until the time should arrive
for it to be removed to the capital for interment in our grand
cathedral, where repose so many of our House. Before Max's remains were
taken from the house, I had a last look at his face, and Bertram and I
walked quickly back, for the night was cold, to the residence where I
had taken up my abode. We had only just left the market-square, and were
approaching our destination, when we were suddenly confronted by a man.
So cutting was the wind, so keen the sleet that was now driving straight
into our faces, that we did not become aware of his proximity until he
had collided with Bertram.

"Why don't you look where you are going, my friend?" inquired the other,
with a somewhat foreign accent. "Have you no eyes in your head?"

Then he uttered a cry of surprise, and next moment was running down the
street as fast as his legs could carry him.

"That was an unmannerly fellow," I said to Bertram, who was standing on
the pavement watching the other's receding figure.

To my surprise, however, he did not answer. When he turned his face to
me again, dark though it was, I could see that there was a look of
extreme astonishment, if not of almost consternation, upon it.

"What is the matter?" I inquired, I fear a little sharply. "Why do you
look like that?"

"That man," he answered. "I must be mistaken, and yet----"

"And yet what?" I inquired. "Come, my friend, tell me the reason of your
extraordinary behaviour."

Bertram hesitated again before he replied.

"I only caught a glimpse of his face," he said at length, "and yet I
feel almost certain that the person who ran into me, and who bade me
look where I was going, was none other than Rodriguez, one of the men
who accompanied us on that fatal journey to the diamond fields in
Brazil."

For a moment, for some reason that was not quite apparent to me, he
seemed alm