“‘What I have given you will tell its own story.’
“Then I heard the pit-pit-pat of careful feet going back across the bridge. I waited for a little to see if there was to be anything further; but as there wasn’t I put the thing the stranger had given me into my pocket, and took up the journey once more. At the end of the bridge I looked up the river; there was a sort of mist lifting from the water, but high above this a battery of lights twinkled and blinked in the distance.
“‘If that’s Schwartzberg,’ says I, ‘Campe’s got her well lit up.’
“I struck along a road which led over the hills; and in half an hour I was thumping at the gate of the castle.
“There was a little empty space after my knock,” said Scanlon. “Then I heard footsteps and the sound of whispering. Suddenly I was flooded by a light from somewhere over the gate; I heard a man mention my name in a kind of a shout; then the gate opened, I was dragged in, and it swung shut after me, the bolts and things falling into place with a great racket. Young Campe had me by the hand and was shaking away for dear life.
“‘I’m glad to see you, old chap!’ says he. ‘Glad as I can be. But I never expected you on a train as late as this!’ He left off shaking my hand and took to slapping my back; it all seemed feverish to me; but like a dud, I took it all for just plain delight in seeing me. ‘You see,’ says he, ‘it’s a pretty quiet kind of a place out here; and when you came a-knocking, we couldn’t imagine who it could be.’
“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.’