his present silence. He suspected Semlin of treachery, not to the common
cause, but to him!

It looked as if I might have a free run until Clubfoot could reach
Berlin. That, unless he also took a special, could not be until the
next evening at earliest. But, more redoubtable than a meeting with
the man of power and authority, hung over me, an ever-present nightmare,
the interview which I felt awaited me at the end of my present
journey ... the interview at which I must render an account of my
mission.

Evening was falling as we ran through the inhospitable region of sand
and water and pine that engirdles Berlin. We glided at diminished speed
through the trim suburbs, skirted the city, on whose tall buildings the
electric sky-signs were already beginning to twinkle, crashed heavily
over a vast network of metals at some great terminus, then tore off
again into the gathering darkness. In a little, we slowed down again. We
were running through wooded country. From the darkness ahead a lantern
waved at us and the train stopped with a jerk at a little wayside
station, a tiny box of an affair. A tall, solid figure, wearing a spiked
helmet and grey military great-coat, stood in solitary grandeur in the
centre of the little platform, the wavering rays of a flickering gas
lamp reflected in his brilliantly polished top-boots.

"Here we are at last!" said my companion.

I stepped out to meet my fate.

* * * * *