Within the inner fence the baron was met by Commandant Hoffer, who still bore traces of the bout of hard drinking in which he had indulged, both in the supposed von Stopelfeld's company and afterwards.
"I have just received a telegram from my senior lieutenant," remarked the "baron." "He is still held up at Lietzen, owing to the railway being disorganised. You will, I trust, excuse the absence of my staff?"
"Certainly, baron," hiccoughed the Austrian officer. "You wish to begin by making an inspection of the gas-producing plant?"
The spurious von Stopelfeld facetiously poked his fingers against the commandant's ribs.
"We know each other now," he exclaimed. "I'll leave out the actual inspection—not that I have no faith in your anti-gas protector, major, but simply because I hate exertion. You might show me the register of prisoners. Oh, no; I don't want to inspect the men."
"But the Englishman?" inquired Major Hoffer, as he led the way to the office.
"Oh, I forgot all about him," rejoined the "baron," with well-feigned indifference. "Is he fairly tractable to-day?"
"You will soon see, baron," replied the Austrian commandant, and calling to a sergeant he bade him take a file of men and bring Prisoner No. 445 to the office.
After the lapse of about ten minutes the sergeant knocked at the door.
"The prisoner, Excellency," he announced.