ure he kissed the name it bore. Then he turned to his work again.

The sun was up before he folded the papers together. By way of a
postscript he wrote a brief letter.

"DEAR C.--I have been fortunate, as you will see from the enclosed
report. His Majesty cannot again say that I have been neglectful. I was
quite right. It is Sebastian and only Sebastian that we need fear. Here
they are clumsy conspirators compared to him. I have been in the river
half the night listening at the open stern-window of a Reval pink to
every word they said. His Majesty can safely come to Konigsberg. Indeed,
he is better out of Dantzig. For the whole country is riddled with that
which they call patriotism, and we treason. But I can only repeat what
his Majesty disbelieved the day before yesterday--that the heart of the
ill is Dantzig, and the venom of it Sebastian. Who he really is and
what he is about you must find out how you can. I go forward to-day to
Gumbinnen. The enclosed letter to its address, I beg of you, if only in
acknowledgment of all that I have sacrificed."

The letter was unsigned, and bore the date, "Dawn, June 10." This and
the report, and that other letter (carefully sealed with a wafer)
which did not deal with war or its alarms, were all placed in one large
envelope. He did not seal it, however, but sat thinking while the sun
began to shine on the opposite houses. Then he withdrew the open letter,
and added a postscript to it:

"If an attempt were made on N.'s life--I should say Sebastian. If
Prussia were to play us false suddenly, and cut us off from France--I
should say nothing else than Sebastian. He is more dangerous than a
fanatic; for he is too clever to be one."

The writer shivered and laughed in sheer amusement at his own misery
as he drew on his wet clothes. The shoemaker was already astir, and
presently knocked at his door.

"Yes, yes," the soldier cried, "I am astir."

And as his host rattled the door he opened it. He had unrolled his long
cavalry cloak, and wore it over his wet clothes.

"You never told me your name," said the shoemaker. A suspicious man is
always more suspicious at the beginning of the day.

"My name," answered the other carelessly. "Oh! my name is Max Brunner."

CHAPTER VII. THE WAY OF LOVE.

Celui qui souffle le feu s'expose a etre brule par les
etincelles.

It was said that Colonel de Casimir--that guest whose presence
and uniform lent an air of distinction to the