"'Simon—and nothing else?'
"'Nothing else. If I ever bore another name, I have forgotten it. I fought in 1791. I was wounded and compelled to leave the service.' He spoke with some nervousness.
"'Are your parents living?' I asked. He looked at me intently, and pouring out a glass of wine, he carried it to his lips with a steady hand.
"'I never knew them,' he replied.
"We talked for some time, and he told me that after he recovered from his wound he entered the service of a rich farmer, and soon saved enough to lease a small farm for himself, where he carried on his small business as an inn and kept a school, 'for,' he said, 'I had received a good education, and wished to do something for the children about me.'
"It was midnight before I went to my room, and I arose as soon as I heard a movement below, but, early as it was, Simon had already gone out. I felt that I must return to you without waiting to see him again. I had formed a plan which I trust you will approve of. I went to the Mayor and obtained a copy of Simon's papers. You know since the new code any one can get such papers, and I said something about a lawsuit."
"And you have these papers?"
"Yes—in a portfolio in my breast."
He touched his breast as he spoke and uttered an exclamation of pain. "I had forgotten," he said, and then told his master of the attack made on him in the Black Forest.