the ancient and picturesque city of Bleiberg. He yawned, shook
himself, and stretched his arms and legs, relieved to find that
the tedious journey from Vienna had not cramped those appendages
beyond recovery.

He stood some inches above the average height, and was built up
in a manner that suggested the handiwork of a British drill-
master, his figure being both muscular and symmetrical. Besides,
there was on his skin that rich brown shadow which is the result
only of the forces of the sun and wind, a life in the open air.
This color gave peculiar emphasis to the yellow hair and
mustache. His face was not handsome, if one accept the Greek
profile as a model of manly beauty, but it was cleanly and
boldly cut, healthful, strong and purposeful, based on
determined jaws and a chin which would have been obstinate but
for the presence of a kindly mouth.

A guard deposited at his feet a new hatbox, a battered traveling
bag and two gun cases which also gave evidence of rough usage.
The luggage was literally covered with mutilated square and
oblong slips of paper of many colors, on which were printed the
advertisements of far-sighted hotel keepers all the way from
Bombay to London and half-way back across the continent.

There was nothing to be seen, however, indicative of the
traveler's name. He surveyed his surroundings with lively
interest shining in his gray eyes, one of which peered through a
monocle encircled by a thin rim of tortoise shell. He watched
the fussy customs officials, who, by some strange mischance,
overlooked his belongings. Finally he made an impatient gesture.