"My name is Curtin," I began, introducing myself, although I felt
somewhat uneasy.

"Thomas!" was all he said.

"Good Heavens!" I thought. "Is this man looking for me? Am I in
for serious trouble now?"

Instead, however, of _Thomas_ being an interrogation as to my first
name, it was his simple introduction of himself--a strange
coincidence.

Although he was addressing his remarks to me, he exclaimed in a
tone which could be heard all over the room that he was Chief of
Police during the Russian occupation of Wehlau for three weeks, and
took great pride in asserting that he was the man who could tell me
all that I wished to know. He was highly elated because the
Russians had employed him, given him a whistle and invested him
with authority to summon aid if he detected any wrong-doing. They
had furthermore paid him for his services. Although he now
roundly tongue-lashed them in general terms, there was no definite
personal accusation that he could make against them.

He told me of a sergeant who went into a house, ordered a meal and
then demanded money, threatening the woman who had served him. A
lieutenant entered at this moment, learned the particulars of the
altercation, and struck the sergeant, whom he reproved for
disobeying commands for good conduct which had come from
Headquarters. "Just think of such lack of respect among officers,"
Thomas concluded. "One officer striking another for something done