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“After which,” continued Mr. Scanlon, “I was led across a courtyard and through a high narrow doorway like a slit in the wall. A few steps down a stone paved corridor and we turned into a room that was a ringer for Weisebrode’s Rathskellar. And while I was looking around at the place, Campe went on talking as if he’d never stop. This wasn’t usual, and as I now had a good view of him under the light, I noticed that he was pinched looking; there were hollows in his face and neck that I’d never seen there before.

“‘Well,’ says he, ‘here you are, old man, and there never was a person so welcome anywhere before. You see,’ and his voice sank a little, ‘there’s been things about here that——’

“‘Take care,’ says some one. And as I looked around I saw a short, blocky German standing beside us, his hand at a salute. He was sort of grey around the temples and he had as grim a face as I ever saw.

“Young Campe gave a sort of gulp. ‘Quite right, sergeant,’ says he. Then, to me, he goes on: ‘This is Sergeant-Major Kretz, once of the Kaiser’s army, and an old friend of my father’s.’