John pointed back over his shoulder and then produced his passport,
which Colonel von Boehlen, after reading, handed carefully back to him.

"Did you see anything of the French?" he asked glancing again at John,
but without a sign of recognition.

"No, sir," replied John in his new German with a French accent, "but I
saw a most unpleasant messenger of theirs."

"A messenger? What kind of a messenger?"

"Long, round and made of steel. It came over a mountain and then with a
loud noise divided itself into many parts near the place where I stood.
One messenger turned itself into a thousand messengers, and they were
all messengers of death. Honored sir, I left that vicinity as soon as I
could, and I have been traveling fast, directly away from there, ever
since."

Von Boehlen laughed, and then his strong jaws closed tighter. After a
moment's silence, he said:

"Many such messengers have been passing in recent months. The air has
been full of them. If you don't like battles, Castel, I don't blame you
for traveling in the direction you take."

John, who had turned his face away for precautionary measures, looked
him full in the eyes again, and he found in his heart a little liking
for the Prussian. Von Boehlen seemed to have lost something of his
haughtiness and confidence since those swaggering days in Dresden, and
the loss had improved him. John saw some signs of a civilian's sense of