did not know M. Petrovitch myself, you see. It was thought better
that he should not come to Berlin."

This statement relieved me of a great anxiety. I now saw my way to
take a bolder line.

"So I understood, sir. But I did not venture to approach his majesty
except through you."

Finkelstein started again, and gave me a new look of curiosity.

"Who authorized you to mention the Emperor?"

I tried to play the part of a man who has made an unintentional slip.

"I spoke too quickly. Petrovitch informed me--that is to say, I
supposed--" I broke down in feigned confusion.

I knew inquisitiveness to be the Superintendent's besetting sin,
and, up to a certain point, I had an interest in tempting him on.

"You appear to be more in the confidence of M. Petrovitch than you
are willing to admit," he said sagely. "Up to the present you have
not explained how he came to make you his messenger."

I leaned back with a faint smile.

"I imagine you are quite astute enough to guess my secret, if you
choose, Herr Finkelstein. But you must excuse me if I am a little
careful whom I trust, especially after the behavior of Princess
Y----."

"You are M. Petrovitch himself! Of course! I thought as much all
along," Finkelstein said with a smile of triumph. "Well, you are
certainly right to be cautious; but, as you see, it is not easy to
deceive an old hand like myself."

"At all events you will be at least equally cautious, I hope. What
you tell me about this international spy being still at large has
disturbed me a good deal, I confess."

"Make your mind easy," the German returned with a patronizing air.
"We are in Berlin here, not in Petersburg. This gentleman will not
venture within my reach, I assure you."

I professed every satisfaction with this guarantee, and took my
leave.

CHAPTER XXIX

AN IMPERIAL FANATIC

I was now to face Wilhelm II.

It was solely for this purpose that I had come to Berlin. But I knew
the great advantage of getting myself vouched for in advance by a
third party, and therefore I had been anxious to convince Finkelstein
of my identity in the first place, so that his master might accept me
without inquiry as to whether I was the man I claimed to be.

I dined quietly in my hotel, a small tavern in a back street. It was
getting late, and I was on the point of going to bed, when I heard
the noise of a motor rushing up and stopping suddenly outside the
little inn.

An aide-de-camp burst