stone's throw of that gloomy pile of granite designated in the
various guide books as the University of Bleiberg.

The Englishman had some difficulty in finding a pen that would
write, and the ink was oily, and the guest-book was not at the
proper angle. At last he managed to form the letters of his name,
which was John Hamilton. After some deliberation, he followed
this with "England." The proprietor, who acted as his own clerk,
drew the book toward him, and after some time, deciphered the
cabalistic signs.

"Ah, Herr John Hamilton of England; is that right?"

"Yes; I am here for a few days' shooting. Can you find me a man
to act as guide?"

"This very morning, Herr."

"Thanks."

Then he proceeded up the stairs to the room assigned to him. The
smell of garlic which pervaded the air caused him to make a
grimace. Once alone in the room, he looked about. There was
neither soap nor towel, but there was a card which stated that
the same could be purchased at the office. He laughed. A pitcher
of water and a bowl stood on a small table, which, by the
presence of a mirror (that could not in truth reflect anything
but light and darkness), served as a dresser. These he used to
good advantage, drying his face and hands on the white
counterpane of the bed, and laughing quietly as he did so. Next