something he wants done at the Ministry of Police, and I thought
of you because I've heard you're related to the Baron von Krutz.
You are, aren't you?" he asked, just as though he didn't know all
about who all his officers are related to.

"That's right, colonel; the baron is my uncle," I said. "What
does Hartenstein want done?"

"Why, he has a prisoner whom he wants taken to Berlin and turned
over at the Ministry. All you have to do is to take him in, in a
coach, and see he doesn't escape on the way, and get a receipt
for him, and for some papers. This is a very important prisoner;
I don't think Hartenstein has anybody he can trust to handle him.
The prisoner claims to be some sort of a British diplomat, and
for all Hartenstein knows, maybe he is. Also, he is a madman."

"A madman?" I echoed.

"Yes, just so. At least, that's what Hartenstein told me. I wanted
to know what sort of a madman--there are various kinds of madmen,
all of whom must be handled differently--but all Hartenstein would
tell me was that he had unrealistic beliefs about the state of
affairs in Europe."

"Ha! What diplomat hasn't?" I asked.

Old Keitel gave a laugh, somewhere between the bark of a dog and
the croaking of a raven.

"Yes, exactly! The unrealistic beliefs of diplomats are what