"It was against her own father that the flaxen-haired Minna had wished to warn me, in the village inn; it was he, and no other, who was the spy in the pay of the Third Section. He had tried to drug me with his Kirsch; and his plot was to drive me back over the frontier, before I could know what was happening, and hand me over to the police. We might cross the boundary line, for all that I could tell, at any instant. Only by immediate action could I save myself.
"Standing up in my place, and leaning forward, I gripped the man by the collar with my left hand, while with my right I drew his own revolver from his side-pocket and held it to his head.
"'Scoundrel!' I roared at him, 'pull up the horse this instant, or I'll shoot you!'
"He felt instinctively that I meant what I said, and that his game was up.
"'What is it? What have I done?' he stammered feebly, bringing the carriage to a standstill.
"Now that there was no further need for violence I recovered my customary calm.
"'You have lost your way, Herr Landlord,' I replied. 'Turn round and try to find it. Try very hard and very carefully, for this pistol of yours seems to be loaded, and might go off at the slightest provocation. Your destination, mind you, is not the Russian frontier, but the nearest German railway station.'
"He obeyed me sullenly, without further words. It was a long, long drive, over a dreary stretch of country; but it came to an end at last. At midday the weary horse jogged slowly through a village street, and I got down and paid my driver.
"'Sweep it up,' I said, scornfully tossing some coins into the gutter for him. 'That is the proper way to pay men like you. Now go and boast to your boon companions how you have driven Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski to the railway station.'
"He slunk away, fearful lest I should denounce him to the porter and the stationmaster—tall, sturdy men, who were likely to have little sympathy with a Russian spy; while I, on my part, bought my ticket and began my journey to my hiding-place.