here at any moment. I have pleaded with him in vain.
He believes that Kore has split; he believes the police may come, but he
says they daren't touch him: he has been too useful to them: he knows
too much. Ach, I am afraid! I am afraid!"

Haase's voice sounded from the inner room.

"Hedwig!" he called.

The woman hastily dried her eyes and disappeared through the door.

The coast was clear, if I wanted to escape, but where could I go,
without a paper or passport, a hunted man?

The news of Kore's arrest and execution haunted me. Of course, the man
was in a most perilous trade, and had probably been playing the game for
years. But suppose they had tracked me to the house in the street called
In den Zelten.

I crossed the room and opened the door to the street. I had never set
foot outside since I had come, and, hopeless as it would be for me to
attempt to escape, I thought I might reconnoitre the surroundings of the
beer-cellar for the event of flight.

I lightly ran up the stairs to the street and nearly cannoned into a man
who was lounging in the entrance. We both apologized, but he stared at
me hard before he strolled on. Then I saw another man sauntering along
on the opposite side of the street. Further away, at the corner, two men
were loitering.

Every one of them had his eyes fixed on the cellar entrance at which I
was standing.

I knew they could not see my face, for the street was but dimly lit, and
behind me was the dark background of the cellar stairway. I took a grip
on my nerves and very deliberately lit a cigarette and smoked it, as if
I had come up from below to get a breath of fresh air. I waited a
little while and then went down.

I was scarcely back in the cellar when Haase appeared from the inner
room, followed by the woman. He carried himself erect, and his eyes were
shining. I didn't like the man, but I must say he looked game. In his
hand he carried my papers.

"Here you are, my lad," he said in quite a friendly tone, "put 'em in
your pocket--you may want 'em to-night."

I glanced at the papers before I followed his advice.

He noted my action and laughed.

"They have told you about Johann," he said. "Never fear, Julius, you and
I are good friends."

The papers were those of Julius Zimmermann all right.

We were having supper at one of the tables in the front room--there were
only a couple of customers, as it was so early--when a man, a regular
visitor of ours, came down the sta