第6章

’TheAll—Highestismerciful，asItoldyou，’hesaid。

Iagreedwithhim。

’Mercyistheprerogativeofkings，’hesaidsententiously，’butforuslesserfolksitisatrimmingwecanwelldowithout。’

Inoddedmyapproval。

’Iamnotmerciful，’hewenton，asifIneededtellingthat。’IfanymanstandsinmywayItramplethelifeoutofhim。ThatistheGermanfashion。Thatiswhathasmadeusgreat。Wedonotmakewarwithlavenderglovesandfinephrases，butwithhardsteelandhardbrains。WeGermanswillcurethegreen—sicknessoftheworld。

Thenationsriseagainstus。Pouf！Theyaresoftflesh，andfleshcannotresistiron。Theshiningploughsharewillcutitswaythroughacresofmud。’

Ihastenedtoaddthatthesewerealsomyopinions。

’Whatthehelldoyouropinionsmatter？Youareathick—headedbooroftheveld……Notbutwhat，’headded，’thereismetalinyouslowDutchmenonceweGermanshavehadtheforgingofit！’

Thewintereveningclosedin，andIsawthatwehadcomeoutofthehillsandwereinflatcountry。Sometimesabigsweepofrivershowed，and，lookingoutatonestationIsawafunnychurchwithathinglikeanonionontopofitsspire。Itmightalmosthavebeenamosque，judgingfromthepicturesIrememberedofmosques。I

wishedtoheavenIhadgivengeographymoreattentioninmytime。

Presentlywestopped，andStummledthewayout。Thetrainmusthavebeenspeciallyhaltedforhim，foritwasaone—horselittleplacewhosenameIcouldnotmakeout。Thestation—masterwaswaiting，bowingandsaluting，andoutsidewasamotor—carwithbighead—lights。Nextminutewewereslidingthroughdarkwoodswherethesnowlayfardeeperthaninthenorth。Therewasamildfrostintheair，andthetyresslippedandskiddedatthecorners。

Wehadn’tfartogo。Weclimbedalittlehillandonthetopofitstoppedatthedoorofabigblackcastle。Itlookedenormousinthewinternight，withnotalightshowinganywhereonitsfront。Thedoorwasopenedbyanoldfellowwhotookalongtimeaboutitandgotwellcursedforhisslowness。Insidetheplacewasverynobleandancient。Stummswitchedontheelectriclight，andtherewasagreathallwithblacktarnishedportraitsofmenanwomeninold—fashionedclothes，andmightyhornsofdeeronthewalls。

Thereseemedtobenosuperfluityofservants。Theoldfellowsaidthatfoodwasready，andwithoutmoreadowewentintothedining—room—anothervastchamberwithroughstonewallsabovethepanelling—andfoundsomecoldmeatsonthetablebesideabigfire。Theservantpresentlybroughtinahamomelette，andonthatandthecoldstuffwedined。Iremembertherewasnothingtodrinkbutwater。ItpuzzledmehowStummkepthisgreatbodygoingontheverymoderateamountoffoodheate。Hewasthetypeyouexpecttoswillbeerbythebucketandputawayapieinasitting。

Whenwehadfinished，herangfortheoldmanandtoldhimthatweshouldbeinthestudyfortherestoftheevening。’Youcanlockupandgotobedwhenyoulike，’hesaid，’butseeyouhavecoffeereadyatsevensharpinthemorning。’

EversinceIenteredthathouseIhadtheuncomfortablefeelingofbeinginaprison。HerewasIaloneinthisgreatplacewithafellowwhocould，andwould，wringmyneckifhewanted。Berlinandalltherestofithadseemedcomparativelyopencountry;IhadfeltthatIcouldmovefreelyandattheworstmakeaboltforit。ButhereIwastrapped，andIhadtotellmyselfeveryminutethatIwasthereasafriendandcolleague。Thefactis，IwasafraidofStumm，andIdon’tmindadmittingit。HewasanewthinginmyexperienceandIdidn’tlikeit。IfonlyhehaddrunkandguzzledabitIshouldhavebeenhappier。

Wewentupastaircasetoaroomattheendofalongcorridor。

Stummlockedthedoorbehindhimandlaidthekeyonthetable。

Thatroomtookmybreathaway，itwassounexpected。Inplaceofthegrimbarenessofdownstairsherewasaplaceallluxuryandcolourandlight。Itwasverylarge，butlowintheceiling，andthewallswerefulloflittlerecesseswithstatuesinthem。Athickgreycarpetofvelvetpilecoveredthefloor，andthechairswerelowandsoftandupholsteredlikealady’sboudoir。Apleasantfireburnedonthehearthandtherewasaflavourofscentintheair，somethinglikeincenseorburntsandalwood。AFrenchclockonthemantelpiecetoldmethatitwastenminutespasteight。Everywhereonlittletablesandincabinetswasaprofusionofknickknacks，andtherewassomebeautifulembroideryframedonscreens。Atfirstsightyouwouldhavesaiditwasawoman’sdrawing—room。

Butitwasn’t。Isoonsawthedifference。Therehadneverbeenawoman’shandinthatplace。Itwastheroomofamanwhohadapassionforfrippery，whohadapervertedtasteforsoftdelicatethings。Itwasthecomplementtohisbluffbrutality。Ibegantoseethequeerothersidetomyhost，thatevilsidewhichgossiphadspokenofasnotunknownintheGermanarmy。Theroomseemedahorriblyunwholesomeplace，andIwasmorethaneverafraidofStumm。

ThehearthrugwasawonderfuloldPersianthing，allfaintgreensandpinks。Ashestoodonithelookeduncommonlylikeabullinachina—shop。Heseemedtobaskinthecomfortofit，andsniffedlikeasatisfiedanimal。Thenhesatdownatanescritoire，unlockedadrawerandtookoutsomepapers。

’Wewillnowsettleyourbusiness，friendBrandt，’hesaid。’YouwillgotoEgyptandtheretakeyourordersfromonewhosenameandaddressareinthisenvelope。Thiscard，’andheliftedasquarepieceofgreypasteboardwithabigstampatthecornerandsomecodewordsstencilledonit，’willbeyourpassport。YouwillShowittothemanyouseek。Keepitjealously，andneveruseitsaveunderordersorinthelastnecessity。ItisyourbadgeasanaccreditedagentoftheGermanCrown。’

Itookthecardandtheenvelopeandputtheminmypocket—book。

’WheredoIgoafterEgypt？’Iasked。

’Thatremainstobeseen。ProbablyyouwillgouptheBlueNile。

Riza，themanyouwillmeet，willdirectyou。EgyptisanestofouragentswhoworkpeacefullyunderthenoseoftheEnglishSecretService。’

’Iamwilling，’Isaid。’ButhowdoIreachEgypt？’

’YouwilltravelbyHollandandLondon。Hereisyourroute，’

andhetookapaperfromhispocket。’Yourpassportsarereadyandwillbegivenyouatthefrontier。’

Thiswasaprettykettleoffish。IwastobepackedofftoCairobysea，whichwouldtakeweeks，andGodknowshowIwouldgetfromEgypttoConstantinople。Isawallmyplansfallingtopiecesaboutmyears，andjustwhenIthoughttheywereshapingnicely。

Stummmusthaveinterpretedthelookonmyfaceasfear。

’Youhavenocausetobeafraid，’hesaid。’WehavepassedthewordtotheEnglishpolicetolookoutforasuspiciousSouthAfricannamedBrandt，oneofMaritz’srebels。Itisnotdifficulttohavethatkindofahintconveyedtotheproperquarter。Butthedescriptionwillnotbeyours。YournamewillbeVanderLinden，arespectableJavamerchantgoinghometohisplantationsafteravisittohisnativeshores。Youhadbettergetyour_dossierbyheart，butIguaranteeyouwillbeaskednoquestions。WemanagethesethingswellinGermany。’

Ikeptmyeyesonthefire，whileIdidsomesavagethinking。IknewtheywouldnotletmeoutoftheirsighttilltheysawmeinHolland，and，oncethere，therewouldbenopossibilityofgettingback。WhenI

leftthishouseIwouldhavenochanceofgivingthemtheslip。AndyetI

waswellonmywaytotheEast，theDanubecouldnotbefiftymilesoff，andthatwayrantheroadtoConstantinople。Itwasafairlydesperateposition。IfItriedtogetawayStummwouldpreventme，andtheoddswerethatIwouldgotojoinPeterinsomeinfernalprison—camp。

ThosemomentsweresomeoftheworstIeverspent。Iwasabsolutelyandutterlybaffled，likearatinatrap。ThereseemednothingforitbuttogobacktoLondonandtellSirWalterthegamewasup。Andthatwasaboutasbitterasdeath。

Hesawmyfaceandlaughed。

’Doesyourheartfailyou，mylittleDutchman？YoufunktheEnglish？Iwilltellyouonethingforyourcomfort。Thereisnothingintheworldtobefearedexceptme。Fail，andyouhavecausetoshiver。Playmefalseandyouhadfarbetterneverhavebeenborn。’

Hisuglysneeringfacewascloseabovemine。Thenheputouthishandsandgrippedmyshouldersashehaddonethefirstafternoon。

IforgetifImentionedthatpartofthedamageIgotatLooswasashrapnelbulletlowdownatthebackofmyneck。Thewoundhadhealedwellenough，butIhadpainsthereonacoldday。Hisfingersfoundtheplaceandithurtlikehell。

Thereisaverynarrowlinebetweendespairandblackrage。Ihadaboutgivenupthegame，butthesuddenacheofmyshouldersgavemepurposeagain。Hemusthaveseentherageinmyeyes，forhisownbecamecruel。

’Theweaselwouldliketobite，’hecried。’Butthepoorweaselhasfounditsmaster。Standstill，vermin。Smile，lookpleasant，orI

willmakepulpofyou。Doyoudaretofrownatme？’

Ishutmyteethandsaidneveraword。IwaschokinginmythroatandcouldnothaveutteredasyllableifIhadtried。

Thenheletmego，grinninglikeanape。

Isteppedbackapaceandgavehimmyleftbetweentheeyes。

Forasecondhedidnotrealizewhathadhappened，forIdon’tsupposeanyonehaddaredtoliftahandtohimsincehewasachild。Heblinkedatmemildly。Thenhisfacegrewasredasfire。

’Godinheaven，’hesaidquietly。’Iamgoingtokillyou，’andheflunghimselfonmelikeamountain。

Iwasexpectinghimanddodgedtheattack。Iwasquitecalmnow，butprettyhelpless。Themanhadagorilla’sreachandcouldgivemeatleastacoupleofstone。Hewasn’tsofteither，butlookedashardasgranite。Iwasonlyjustfromhospitalandabsurdlyoutoftraining。Hewouldcertainlykillmeifhecould，andIsawnothingtopreventhim。

Myonlychancewastokeephimfromgettingtogrips，forhecouldhavesqueezedinmyribsintwoseconds。IfanciedIwaslighteronmylegsthanhim，andIhadagoodeye。BlackMontyatKimberleyhadtaughtmetofightabit，butthereisnoartonearthwhichcanpreventabigmaninanarrowspacefromsoonerorlatercorneringalesserone。Thatwasthedanger。

Backwardsandforwardswepaddedonthesoftcarpet。Hehadnonotionofguardinghimself，andIgotinagoodfewblows。

ThenIsawaqueerthing。EverytimeIhithimheblinkedandseemedtopause。Iguessedthereasonforthat。Hehadgonethroughlifekeepingthecrownofthecauseway，andnobodyhadeverstooduptohim。Hewasn’tacowardbyalongchalk，buthewasabully，andhadneverbeenstruckinhislife。Hewasgettingstrucknowinrealearnest，andhedidn’tlikeit。Hehadlosthisbearingsandwasgrowingasmadasahatter。

Ikepthalfaneyeontheclock。Iwashopefulnow，andwaslookingfortherightkindofchance。TheriskwasthatImighttiresoonerthanhimandbeathismercy。

ThenIlearnedatruthIhaveneverforgotten。Ifyouarefightingamanwhomeanstokillyou，hewillbeapttodownyouunlessyoumeantokillhimtoo。Stummdidnotknowanyrulestothisgame，andIforgottoallowforthat。Suddenly，whenIwaswatchinghiseyes，helaunchedamightykickatmystomach。Ifhehadgotme，thisyarnwouldhavehadanabruptending。ButbythemercyofGodIwasmovingsidewayswhenheletout，andhisheavybootjustgrazedmyleftthigh。

Itwastheplacewheremostoftheshrapnelhadlodged，andforasecondIwassickwithpainandstumbled。ThenIwasonmyfeetagainbutwithanewfeelinginmyblood。IhadtosmashStummorneversleepinmybedagain。

Igotawonderfulpowerfromthisnewcoldrageofmine。IfeltI

couldn’ttire，andIdancedroundanddottedhisfacetillitwasstreamingwithblood。Hisbulkypaddedchestwasnogoodtome，soIcouldn’ttryforthemark。

Hebegantosnortnowandhisbreathcameheavily。’Youinfernalcad，’IsaidingoodroundEnglish，’I’mgoingtoknockthestuffingoutofyou，’buthedidn’tknowwhatIwassaying。

Thenatlasthegavememychance。Hehalftrippedoveralittletableandhisfacestuckforward。Igothimonthepointofthechin，andputeveryounceofweightIpossessedbehindtheblow。Hecrumpledupinaheapandrolledover，upsettingalampandknockingabigchinajarintwo。Hishead，Iremember，layundertheescritoirefromwhichhehadtakenmypassport。

Ipickedupthekeyandunlockedthedoor。InoneofthegildedmirrorsIsmoothedmyhairandtidiedupmyclothes。MyangerhadcompletelygoneandIhadnoparticularill—willleftagainstStumm。Hewasamanofremarkablequalities，whichwouldhavebroughthimtothehighestdistinctionintheStoneAge。Butforallthatheandhiskindwerebacknumbers。

Isteppedoutoftheroom，lockedthedoorbehindme，andstartedoutonthesecondstageofmytravels。

CHAPTERSEVEN

ChristmastideEverythingdependedonwhethertheservantwasinthehall。IhadputStummtosleepforabit，butIcouldn’tflattermyselfhewouldlongbequiet，andwhenhecametohewouldkickthelockeddoortomatchwood。Imustgetoutofthehousewithoutaminute’sdelay，andifthedoorwasshutandtheoldmangonetobedIwasdone。

Imethimatthefootofthestairs，carryingacandle。

’Yourmasterwantsmetosendoffanimportanttelegram。

Whereisthenearestoffice？There’soneinthevillage，isn’tthere？’

IspokeinmybestGerman，thefirsttimeIhadusedthetonguesinceIcrossedthefrontier。

’Thevillageisfiveminutesoffatthefootoftheavenue，’hesaid。’Willyoubelong，sir？’

’I’llbebackinaquarterofanhour，’Isaid。

’Don’tlockuptillIgetin。’

Iputonmyulsterandwalkedoutintoaclearstarrynight。MybagIleftlyingonasettleinthehall。Therewasnothinginittocompromiseme，butIwishedIcouldhavegotatoothbrushandsometobaccooutofit。

Sobeganoneofthecraziestescapadesyoucanwellimagine。Icouldn’tstoptothinkofthefutureyet，butmusttakeonestepatatime。Irandowntheavenue，myfeetcrackingonthehardsnow，planninghardmyprogrammeforthenexthour。

Ifoundthevillage—halfadozenhouseswithonebiggishplacethatlookedlikeaninn。Themoonwasrising，andasIapproachedIsawthattherewassomekindofastore。Afunnylittletwo—seatedcarwaspurringbeforethedoor，andIguessedthiswasalsothetelegraphoffice。

Imarchedinandtoldmystorytoastoutwomanwithspectaclesonhernosewhowastalkingtoayoungman。

’Itistoolate，’sheshookherhead。’TheHerrBurgraveknowsthatwell。Thereisnoconnectionfromhereaftereighto’clock。IfthematterisurgentyoumustgotoSchwandorf。’

’Howfaristhat？’Iasked，lookingforsomeexcusetogetdecentlyoutoftheshop。

’Sevenmiles，’shesaid，’buthereisFranzandthepost—wagon。

Franz，youwillbegladtogivethegentlemanaseatbesideyou。’

Thesheepish—lookingyouthmutteredsomethingwhichItooktobeassent，andfinishedoffaglassofbeer。Fromhiseyesandmannerhelookedasifhewerehalfdrunk。

Ithankedthewoman，andwentouttothecar，forIwasinafevertotakeadvantageofthisunexpectedbitofluck。Icouldhearthepost—mistressenjoiningFranznottokeepthegentlemanwaiting，andpresentlyhecameoutandfloppedintothedriver’sseat。Westartedinaseriesofvoluptuouscurves，tillhiseyesgotaccustomedtothedarkness。

Atfirstwemadegoodgoingalongthestraight，broadhighwaylinedwithwoodsononesideandontheothersnowyfieldsmeltingintohaze。Thenhebegantotalk，and，ashetalked，hesloweddown。Thisbynomeanssuitedmybook，andIseriouslywonderedwhetherIshouldpitchhimoutandtakechargeofthething。Hewasobviouslyaweakling，leftbehindintheconscription，andI

couldhavedoneitwithonehand。ButbyafortunatechanceIlefthimalone。

’Thatisafinehatofyours，meinHerr，’hesaid。Hetookoffhisownbluepeakedcap，theuniform，Isuppose，ofthedriverofthepost—wagon，andlaiditonhisknee。Thenightairruffledashockoftow—colouredhair。

Thenhecalmlytookmyhatandclappeditonhishead。

’WiththisthingIshouldbeagentleman，’hesaid。

Isaidnothing，butputonhiscapandwaited。

’Thatisanobleovercoat，meinHerr，’hewenton。’Itgoeswellwiththehat。ItisthekindofgarmentIhavealwaysdesiredtoown。IntwodaysitwillbetheholyChristmas，whengiftsaregiven。WouldthatthegoodGodsentmesuchacoatasyours！’

’Youcantryitontoseehowitlooks，’Isaidgood—humouredly。

Hestoppedthecarwithajerk，andpulledoffhisbluecoat。Theexchangewassooneffected。Hewasaboutmyheight，andmyulsterfittednotsobadly。Iputonhisovercoat，whichhadabigcollarthatbuttonedroundtheneck。

Theidiotpreenedhimselflikeagirl。Drinkandvanityhadprimedhimforanyfolly。Hedrovesocarelesslyforabitthathenearlyputusintoaditch。Wepassedseveralcottagesandatthelasthesloweddown。

’Afriendofmineliveshere，’heannounced。’GertrudwouldliketoseemeinthefineclotheswhichthemostamiableHerrhasgivenme。Waitforme，Iwillnotbelong。’Andhescrambledoutofthecarandlurchedintothelittlegarden。

Itookhisplaceandmovedveryslowlyforward。Iheardthedooropenandthesoundoflaughingandloudvoices。Thenitshut，andlookingbackIsawthatmyidiothadbeenabsorbedintothedwellingofhisGertrud。Iwaitednolonger，butsentthecarforwardatitsbestspeed。

Fiveminuteslatertheinfernalthingbegantogivetrouble—anutlooseintheantiquatedsteering—gear。Iunhookedalamp，examinedit，andputthemischiefright，butIwasaquarterofanhourdoingit。ThehighwayrannowinathickforestandInoticedbranchesgoingoffnowandthentotheright。Iwasjustthinkingofturninguponeofthem，forIhadnoanxietytovisitSchwandorf，whenIheardbehindmethesoundofagreatcardrivenfuriously。

Idrewintotherightside—thankgoodnessIrememberedtheruleoftheroad—andproceededdecorously，wonderingwhatwasgoingtohappen。Icouldhearthebrakesbeingclampedonandthecarslowingdown。SuddenlyabiggreybonnetslippedpastmeandasIturnedmyheadIheardafamiliarvoice。

ItwasStumm，lookinglikesomethingthathasbeenrunover。

Hehadhisjawinasling，sothatIwonderedifIhadbrokenit，andhiseyeswerebeautifullybungedup。Itwasthatthatsavedme，thatandhisragingtemper。Thecollarofthepostman’scoatwasroundmychin，hidingmybeard，andIhadhiscappulledwelldownonmybrow。IrememberedwhatBlenkironhadsaid—thattheonlywaytodealwiththeGermanswasnakedbluff。Minewasnakedenough，foritwasallthatwaslefttome。

’WhereisthemanyoubroughtfromAndersbach？’heroared，aswellashisjawwouldallowhim。

Ipretendedtobemortallyscared，andspokeinthebestimitationIcouldmanageofthepostman’shighcrackedvoice。

’Hegotoutamileback，HerrBurgrave，’Iquavered。’HewasarudefellowwhowantedtogotoSchwandorf，andthenchangedhismind。’

’Where，youfool？SayexactlywherehegotdownorIwillwringyourneck。’

’InthewoodthissideofGertrud’scottage……onthelefthand。

Ilefthimrunningamongthetrees。’IputalltheterrorIknewintomypipe，anditwasn’tallacting。

’HemeanstheHenrichs’cottage，HerrColonel，’saidthechauffeur。

’Thismaniscourtingthedaughter。’

Stummgaveanorderandthegreatcarbacked，and，asIlookedround，Isawitturning。Thenasitgatheredspeeditshotforward，andpresentlywaslostintheshadows。Ihadgotoverthefirsthurdle。

Buttherewasnotimetobelost。Stummwouldmeetthepostmanandwouldbetearingaftermeanyminute。Itookthefirstturning，andbucketedalonganarrowwoodlandroad。Thehardgroundwouldshowveryfewtracks，Ithought，andIhopedthepursuitwouldthinkIhadgoneontoSchwandorf。Butitwouldn’tdotoriskit，andIwasdeterminedverysoontogetthecarofftheroad，leaveit，andtaketotheforest。ItookoutmywatchandcalculatedIcouldgivemyselftenminutes。

Iwasverynearlycaught。PresentlyIcameonabitofroughheath，withaslopeawayfromtheroadandhereandthereapatchofblackwhichItooktobeasandpit。OppositeoneoftheseI

slewedthecartotheedge，gotout，starteditagainandsawitpitchhead—foremostintothedarkness。Therewasasplashofwaterandthensilence。CraningoverIcouldseenothingbutmurk，andthemarksatthelipwherethewheelshadpassed。Theywouldfindmytracksindaylightbutscarcelyatthistimeofnight。

ThenIranacrosstheroadtotheforest。Iwasonlyjustintime，fortheechoesofthesplashhadhardlydiedawaywhenIheardthesoundofanothercar。Ilayflatinahollowbelowatangleofsnow—

ladenbramblesandlookedbetweenthepine—treesatthemoonlitroad。ItwasStumm’scaragainandtomyconsternationitstoppedjustalittleshortofthesandpit。

Isawanelectrictorchflashed，andStummhimselfgotoutandexaminedthetracksonthehighway。ThankGod，theywouldbestillthereforhimtofind，buthadhetriedhalfadozenyardsonhewouldhaveseenthemturntowardsthesandpit。Ifthathadhappenedhewouldhavebeatentheadjacentwoodsandmostcertainlyfoundme。Therewasathirdmaninthecar，withmyhatandcoatonhim。Thatpoordevilofapostmanhadpaiddearforhisvanity。

Theytookalongtimebeforetheystartedagain，andIwasjollywellrelievedwhentheywentscouringdowntheroad。IrandeeperintothewoodstillIfoundatrackwhich—asIjudgedfromtheskywhichIsawinaclearing—tookmenearlyduewest。Thatwasn’tthedirectionIwanted，soIboreoffatrightangles，andpresentlystruckanotherroadwhichIcrossedinahurry。AfterthatIgotentangledinsomeconfoundedkindofenclosureandhadtoclimbpalingafterpalingofroughstakesplaitedwithosiers。ThencameariseinthegroundandIwasonalowhillofpineswhichseemedtolastformiles。AllthetimeIwasgoingatagoodpace，andbeforeI

stoppedtorestIcalculatedIhadputsixmilesbetweenmeandthesandpit。

Mymindwasgettingalittlemoreactivenow;forthefirstpartofthejourneyIhadsimplystaggeredfromimpulsetoimpulse。

Theseimpulseshadbeenuncommonlucky，butIcouldn’tgoonlikethatforever。__Eksal’nplan_maak，saystheoldBoerwhenhegetsintotrouble，anditwasuptomenowtomakeaplan。

AssoonasIbegantothinkIsawthedesperatebusinessIwasinfor。HerewasI，withnothingexceptwhatIstoodupin—includingacoatandcapthatweren’tmine—aloneinmid—winterintheheartofSouthGermany。Therewasamanbehindmelookingformyblood，andsoontherewouldbeahue—and—cryformeupanddowntheland。

IhadheardthattheGermanpolicewereprettyefficient，andI

couldn’tseethatIstoodtheslimmestchance。Iftheycaughtmetheywouldshootmebeyonddoubt。Iaskedmyselfonwhatcharge，andanswered，’ForknockingaboutaGermanofficer。’Theycouldn’thavemeupforespionage，forasfarasIknewtheyhadnoevidence。

IwassimplyaDutchmanthathadgotriledandhadrunamok。Butiftheycutdownacobblerforlaughingatasecondlieutenant—whichiswhathappenedatZabern—Icalculatedthathangingwouldbetoogoodforamanthathadbrokenacolonel’sjaw。

Tomakethingsworsemyjobwasnottoescape—thoughthatwouldhavebeenhardenough—buttogettoConstantinople，morethanathousandmilesoff，andIreckonedIcouldn’tgetthereasatramp。Ihadtobesentthere，andnowIhadflungawaymychance。

IfIhadbeenaCatholicIwouldhavesaidaprayertoStTeresa，forshewouldhaveunderstoodmytroubles。

Mymotherusedtosaythatwhenyoufeltdownonyourluckitwasagoodcuretocountyourmercies。SoIsetaboutcountingmine。ThefirstwasthatIwaswellstartedonmyjourney，forI

couldn’tbeabovetwoscoremilesfromtheDanube。ThesecondwasthatIhadStumm’spass。Ididn’tseehowIcoulduseit，butthereitwas。LastlyIhadplentyofmoney—fifty—threeEnglishsovereignsandtheequivalentofthreepoundsinGermanpaperwhichIhadchangedatthehotel。AlsoIhadsquaredaccountswitholdStumm。Thatwasthebiggestmercyofall。

IthoughtI’dbettergetsomesleep，soIfoundadryishholebelowanoakrootandsqueezedmyselfintoit。ThesnowlaydeepinthesewoodsandIwassoppingwetuptotheknees。AllthesameImanagedtosleepforsomehours，andgotupandshookmyselfjustasthewinter’sdawnwasbreakingthroughthetreetops。Breakfastwasthenextthing，andImustfindsomesortofdwelling。

AlmostatonceIstruckaroad，abighighwayrunningnorthandsouth。Itrottedalonginthebittermorningtogetmycirculationstarted，andpresentlyIbegantofeelalittlebetter。InalittleIsawachurchspire，whichmeantavillage。Stummwouldn’tbelikelytohavegotonmytracksyet，Icalculated，buttherewasalwaysthechancethathehadwarnedallthevillagesroundbytelephoneandthattheymightbeonthelook—outforme。Butthatriskhadtobetaken，forImusthavefood。

itwasthedaybeforeChristmas，Iremembered，andpeoplewouldbeholidaying。Thevillagewasquiteabigplace，butatthishour—justaftereighto’clock—therewasnobodyinthestreetexceptawanderingdog。IchosethemostunassumingshopIcouldfind，wherealittleboywastakingdowntheshutters—oneofthosegeneralstoreswheretheyselleverything。Theboyfetchedaveryoldwoman，whohobbledinfromtheback，fittingonherspectacles。

’GrussGott，’shesaidinafriendlyvoice，andItookoffmycap。I

sawfrommyreflectioninasaucepanthatIlookedmoderatelyrespectableinspiteofmynightinthewoods。

ItoldherthestoryofhowIwaswalkingfromSchwandorftoseemymotheratanimaginaryplacecalledjudenfeld，bankingontheignoranceofvillagersaboutanyplacefivemilesfromtheirhomes。Isaidmyluggagehadgoneastray，andIhadn’ttimetowaitforit，sincemyleavewasshort。Theoldladywassympatheticandunsuspecting。Shesoldmeapoundofchocolate，aboxofbiscuits，thebetterpartofaham，twotinsofsardinesandarucksacktocarrythem。Ialsoboughtsomesoap，acombandacheaprazor，andasmallTourists’Guide，publishedbyaLeipzigfirm。AsIwasleavingIsawwhatseemedlikegarmentshangingupinthebackshop，andturnedtohavealookatthem。TheywerethekindofthingthatGermanswearontheirsummerwalkingtours—longshootingcapesmadeofagreenstufftheycallloden。Iboughtone，andagreenfelthatandanalpenstocktokeepitcompany。ThenwishingtheoldwomanandherbelongingsamerryChristmas，I

departedandtooktheshortestcutoutofthevillage。Therewereoneortwopeopleaboutnow，buttheydidnotseemtonoticeme。

IwentintothewoodsagainandwalkedfortwomilestillI

haltedforbreakfast。Iwasnotfeelingquitesofitnow，andIdidnotmakemuchofmyprovisions，beyondeatingabiscuitandsomechocolate。Ifeltverythirstyandlongedforhottea。InanicypoolI

washedandwithinfiniteagonyshavedmybeard。Thatrazorwastheworstofitsspecies，andmyeyeswererunningallthetimewiththepainoftheoperation。ThenItookoffthepostman’scoatandcap，andburiedthembelowsomebushes。Iwasnowaclean—shavenGermanpedestrianwithagreencapeandhat，andanabsurdwalking—stickwithaniron—shodend—thesortofpersonwhoroamsinthousandsovertheFatherlandinsummer，butisararishbirdinmid—winter。

TheTourists’Guidewasafortunatepurchase，foritcontainedabigmapofBavariawhichgavememybearings。IwascertainlynotfortymilesfromtheDanube—morelikethirty。TheroadthroughthevillageIhadleftwouldhavetakenmetoit。IhadonlytowalkduesouthandIwouldreachitbeforenight。SofarasIcouldmakeouttherewerelongtonguesofforestrunningdowntotheriver，andIresolvedtokeeptothewoodlands。AttheworstIwouldmeetaforesterortwo，andIhadagoodenoughstoryforthem。