Kenneth sat thinking. If his suspicions were well founded, he felt that his doom was sealed. It would be easy for a man like Hellwig to fabricate evidence against him. In default of Finkelstein’s assistance, which Hellwig would take care to prevent, his only means of safety lay in flight. But what chance was there of escaping from this locked and shuttered room? An examination of the window showed the hopelessness of it.
The faint streak of light above again attracted his notice. Noiselessly drawing the table beneath it, he mounted to examine its source. A portion of the plaster had fallen away from the ceiling, and the light filtered through a narrow crack in the flooring above. This discovery, under pressure of circumstances, gave him a gleam of hope. Taking out his pocket knife, he began to scrape quietly at the plaster, gradually enlarging the hole. What there might be above he could not tell; judging by the passing in and out of the footsteps the room was unoccupied.
While he was engaged on this work he heard steps in the passage without. Springing down, he swept on to the floor, and under the table, the plaster he had scraped from the ceiling, then stood waiting eagerly. Perhaps it was Finkelstein at last.
The door opened. A man was thrust into the room, and the door again locked. The newcomer swore.
"Do I find a companion in adversity?" said the man. "We can condole."
"What is your father? How many horses does he keep? Bless me, how this reminds me of my innocent childhood! ’More light,’ as Goethe said. But I can see well enough to know that you are a youngster. Sad, sad!"
Peering at the stranger, Kenneth saw a man of about thirty-five, with hair _en brosse_, Germanic moustache, and a German military uniform.
"I should pass in a crowd, one would think," the man went on, smiling under Kenneth’s scrutiny. "But Fate is unkind."
"They say so, and they will have their way. Ah, well! They say also, that it is a sweet and comely thing to die for one’s country. I always thought I should die in my boots."
"A scrap of paper! They can’t read it, but what matters that? A note in cipher is evidence enough. But I shall not die unavenged: they are crying in the streets that war is declared, and I fancy that Emperor William has bitten a little more than he can chew. What brings you to this deplorable extremity?"