s on the roofs of Erzerum I had burned to
get at Stumm's papers, so now it was borne in on me that at all costs I
must look at that pile.

I advanced to the table and picked up the topmost paper. It was a
little typewritten blue slip with the lettering in italics, and in a
corner a curious, involved stamp in red ink. On it I read:

'_Die Wildvogel missen beimkehren._'

At the same moment I heard steps and the door opened on the far side, I
stepped back towards the stove, and fingered the pistol in my pocket.

A man entered, a man with a scholar's stoop, an unkempt beard, and
large sleepy dark eyes. At the sight of me he pulled up and his whole
body grew taut. It was the Portuguese Jew, whose back I had last seen
at the smithy door in Skye, and who by the mercy of God had never seen
my face.

I stopped fingering my pistol, for I had an inspiration. Before he
could utter a word I got in first.

'_Die Vogelein schwei igem im Walde,_' I said.

His face broke into a pleasant smile, and he replied:

'_Warte nur, balde rubest du auch._'

'Ach,' he said in German, holding out his hand, 'you have come this
way, when we thought you would go by Modane. I welcome you, for I know
your exploits. You are Conradi, who did so nobly in Italy?'

I bowed. 'Yes, I am Conradi,' I said.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Col of the Swallows

He pointed to the slip on the table.

'You have seen the orders?'

I nodded.

'The long day's work is over. You must rejoice, for your part has been
the hardest, I think. Some day you will tell me about it?'

The man's face was honest and kindly, rather like that of the engineer
Gaudian, whom two years before I had met in Germany. But his eyes
fascinated me, for they were the eyes of the dreamer and fanatic, who
would not desist from his quest while life lasted. I thought that Ivery
had chosen well in his colleague.

'My task is not done yet,' I said. 'I came here to see Chelius.'

'He will be back tomorrow evening.'

'Too late. I must see him at once. He has gone to Italy, and I must
overtake him.'

'You know your duty best,' he said gravely.

'But you must help me. I must catch him at Santa Chiara, for it is a
business of life and death. Is there a car to be had?'

'There is mine. But there is no chauffeur. Chelius took him.'

'I can drive myself and I know the road. But I have no pass to cross
the frontier.'

'That is easily supplied,' he said, smiling.

In one bookcase ther