"Very like the device of the Austrian Schomburgs. Well, I remembered the
cigarette case, and one night at a concert--in Berlin, you know--I
chanced to sit with some friends at a table quite near where he sat
alone; I had my eye on him, trying to assure myself of his identity,
when, in closing his cigarette case, it fell almost at my feet, and I
bumped heads with a waiter as I picked it up--I wanted to make sure--and
handed it to him, the imitation baron."

"That was your chance to startle him a trifle, I should say," remarked
the German.

"He was the man, beyond doubt. There was no mistaking the cigarette ease.
What I said was,"--continued Chauvenet,--"'Allow me, Baron!'"

"Well spoken!" exclaimed the Spanish officer.

"Not so well, either," laughed Chauvenet. "He had the best of it--he's a
clever man, I am obliged to admit! He said--" and Chauvenet's mirth
stifled him for a moment.

"Yes; what was it?" demanded the German impatiently.

"He said: 'Thank you, waiter!' and put the cigarette case back into his
pocket!"

They all laughed. Then Captain Claiborne's eyes fell upon the table and
rested idly on John Armitage's cigarette case--on the smoothly-worn gold
of the surface, on the snowy falcon and the silver helmet on which the
bird poised. He started slightly, then tossed his napkin carelessly on