Maurice passed into the street. "Her Royal Highness!" he
muttered. "The crown princess, and I never suspected. Her name
is Alexia, and she serves the princess whenever she can! Maurice,
you are an ass!"

Having arrived at this conclusion, and brushing the dank hair
from his eyes, he thrust his hands into his oozing pockets, and
proceeded across the square toward the Continental, wondering if
there was a rear entrance. Happily the adventure absorbed all
his thoughts. He was quite unobservant of the marked attention
bestowed on him. Carriages filled the Strasse, and many persons
moved along the walks. It was the promenade hour. The water,
which still dripped from his clothes and trickled from his shoes,
left a conspicuous trail behind; and this alone, without the
absence of a hat, would have made him the object of amused and
wondering smiles.

A gendarme stared at him, but seeing that he walked straight,
said nothing. Maurice, however, was serenely unaware of what was
passing around him. He did not notice even the tall, broad-
shouldered man who, with a gun under his arm, brushed past him,
followed by a round-faced German over whose back was slung a
game-bag. The man with the gun was also oblivious of his
surroundings. He bumped into several persons, who scowled at him,
but offered no remonstrance after having taken his measure. The
German put his pipe into his pocket and advanced a step.

"The other gun, Herr," he said, "would have meant the boar."

"So it would, perhaps," was the reply.