He started back:
"Who are you?"
The man—he was a well-dressed individual, rather smart-looking, with dark hair, a dark moustache and hard eyes—the man gave a grin:
"Who am I? Why, the Colonel!"
"No, no. . . . The one I call the Colonel, the one who writes to me under that . . . adopted . . . signature . . . is not you!"
"Yes, yes . . . the other was only . . . But, my dear sir, all this, you know, is not of the smallest importance. The essential thing is that I . . . am myself. And that, I assure you, I am!"
"The Colonel . . . until further orders."
Mr. Kesselbach was seized with a growing fear. Who was this man? What did he want with him?
He called out: