Leaving his companion in a dark corner, Kenneth hastened alone to the beershop. At the tables outside sat several men, mechanics in appearance. Kenneth slackened his pace to a policeman's walk, and passed by, throwing a keen glance at the men, who gave him a perfunctory salute. On reaching the remotest table he whispered a word or two to the man drinking alone there. The man left his bock, and rising, joined Kenneth, who had drawn back into the darkness.
"You can be discreet?" he said.
"What is it, Herr Policeman?" the man replied, doubtfully.
"It is a question of a spy. One of the mechanics is suspected. Do you know a short dark man who has recently come in?"
The question was a bait cast at a venture; Kenneth was elated at the man's reply.
"Yes, to be sure; there is a new fellow, mechanic to Herr Lieutenant Breul. None of us liked the look of him. If he is a spy! ... Not that he is particularly short."
"Well, not so very short."
"Nor more than common dark."
"Not a gipsy, perhaps; but still, rather dark and certainly not tall."
"That's the fellow to a hair. He's a boor: why, he called me a stupid pig only this morning. That's suspicious in itself; for I'm not a stupid pig; I can prove it by my school certificates."