it in the
tonneau with a man beside you, a very watchful man, and a pistol against
your side. You don't want to die, do you? I thought not, since you
surrendered those papers. Well, then, you'll be wise not to say a word
or stir a muscle. And now we are in a hurry. Will you make your toilet,
please?"

It was the bizarre curtain scene of what I had called an extravaganza.
Blenheim's confederates, taking no special pains for gentleness,
stripped off the outer garments of the prostrate Schwartzmann, who
moaned and groaned throughout the process, though he never opened his
eyes. Blenheim urged haste upon us; he was getting more fidgety every
instant; he bit his lip, drummed with his fingers, kept an ear cocked,
as if expecting to hear pursuers at the door. Still, he neglected no
precautions. He demanded my revolver. I surrendered it amiably, and
then doffed my chauffeur's outfit and took, from a social standpoint, a
gratifying step upward, donning one by one the insignia of France.

The fit was not perfect by any means. Schwartzmann was a giant, a
mountain. My feet swished aloud groggily in his burnished putties; his
garments hung round me in ample, rather than graceful, folds. However,
the loose cape of horizon blue resembled charity in covering defects.
As a dummy, sitting motionless in the rear of the automobile, my captors
felt that I would pass.

By this time I was enchanted with the plans I was concocting. I might
look like an opera-bouffe hero,--no doubt I did,--but my hour would
come. Meanwhile events were marching. My transformation being complete,
Blenheim gave a curt order in German, the candles were blown out, and
lighted only by the torch, we turned toward the door. There was an
inarticulate cry from Schwartzmann, just conscious enough, poor beggar,
to grasp the fact of his abandonment in the strategic retreat his
friends were beating. Then we were out in the courtyard, beneath the
stars.

Down the hill, sheltered behind the stones of a ruined house, the gray
car was waiting, and Blenheim climbed into the driver's seat, meanwhile
giving brief directions. There was no noise, no flurry; the affair, I
must say, went with an efficiency in keeping with the proudest Prussian
traditions. I was installed in the tonneau, and I was hardly seated
before the motor hummed into life, and we jolted into the moonlit road.

For perhaps the hundredth time I asked myself if I was dreaming; if this
person in a French disguis