t the days in Dresden, for all their
penury, were far pleasanter than these.

Meantime the chief of police called his subaltern and placed in his
hands the peculiar descriptions. The word vintner caused him to give
vent to an ejaculation of surprise.

"He was in here last night. I have had him followed all day. He lives
over the American consulate. Among his things was found the uniform of a
colonel in the Prussian Uhlans."

"Ha! Arrest him to-morrow, or the day after at the latest. But the
mountaineer is the big game. Do not arrest the vintner till you have
him. Where one is the other is likely to be. But on the moment of arrest
you must have a squad of soldiers at your back."

"Soldiers?" doubtfully.

"Express orders of his highness."

"It shall be done."

Considerable activity was manifest in the police bureau the rest of that
day.

To return to Carmichael. He had never before concerned himself with
resignations. Up to this hour he had never resigned anything he had set
his heart upon. So it was not an easy matter for him to compose a
letter to the secretary of state, resigning the post at Dreiberg. True,
he added that he desired to be transferred to a seaport town, France or
Italy preferred. The high altitude in Dreiberg had affected his heart.
However, in case there was no other available post, they would kindly
appoint his successor at once. Carmichael never faltered where his
courage was concerned, and it needed a fine quality of moral courage to
write this letter and enclose it in the diplomatic pouch which went into
the mails that night. It took courage indeed to face the matter squarely
and resolutely, when there was the urging desire to linger on and on,
indefinitely. That she was not going to marry the king of Jugendheit did
not alter his affairs in the least. It was all hopeless, absurd, and
impossible. He must go.

Some one was knocking on the door.

"Come in."

"A letter for your excellency," said the concierge.

"Wait till I read it. There may be an answer."

"If Herr Carmichael would learn the secret of number forty Krumerweg,
let him attire himself as a vintner and be in the Krumerweg at eight
o'clock to-night."

This note was as welcome to the recipient as the flowers in the spring.
An adventure? He was ready, now and always. Anything to take his mind
off his own dismal affairs. Then he recalled the woman in black; the
letter could apply to none but her. More than this, he might lig