"What do you want?" he asked.

"A lodging."

The door was almost closed, when the soldier made an odd and, as it
would seem, tentative gesture with his left hand. All the fingers
were clenched, and with his extended thumb he scratched his chin
slowly from side to side.

"I have no lodging to let," said the bootmaker. But he did not shut
the door.

"I can pay," said the other, with his thumb still at his chin. He
had quick, blue eyes beneath the shaggy hair that wanted cutting.
"I am very tired--it is only for one night."

"Who are you?" asked the bootmaker.

The soldier was a dull and slow man. He leant against the doorpost
with tired gestures before replying.

"Sergeant in a Schleswig regiment, in charge of spare horses."

"And you have come far?"

"From Dantzig without a halt."

The shoemaker looked him up and down with a doubting eye, as if
there were something about him that was not quite clear and above-