part, was rapidly changing the first-formed estimate of his guest.

"Pray forgive me if I seem to intrude on your personal affairs," he
said; "but, taking your own words, you are--how do you say it--
_schlimm--aux abois_--"

"Hard up. Yes."

"What? You speak German, or is it French?"

"German, a little. I am understandable in French."

"Ah."

Again von Kerber paused. Royson smiled. Had he striven to mislead the
other man as to his character he could not have succeeded so admirably.
And the Baron read the smile according to his own diagnosis. He was
sure that this well-educated, gentlemanly, yet morose-mannered young
Englishman was under a cloud--that he had broken his country's laws,
and been broken himself in the process. And von Kerber was searching
for men of that stamp. They would do things that others, who pinned
their faith to testimonials, certificates, and similar vouchers of
repute, might shy at.

"I think you are one to be trusted?" he went on.

"I am glad you think that."

"Yes. I soon make up my mind. And to-day you acted as one man among a
thousand. Miss Fenshawe, the lady in the carriage, enlightened me