even his old pals, Bob and Hugh, gave him no more than a fleeting smile.

"We have a letter or something here written in German, Heinrich," said
Mr. Cook. "I'd like to have you translate it for us, please."

Heinrich took the paper that was held out to him. Every one watched him
narrowly as he looked at it, and were amazed to see him suddenly turn
deadly white. His hand shook violently and he had to lean against the
desk to keep from falling. He gazed at Mr. Cook pleadingly, a hunted look
in his eyes.

"What does it say?" asked his employer.

Heinrich gasped and almost choked once or twice. He swallowed hard and
finally found his voice again. "I don't know," he replied.

"You mean you can't read the German?"

That seemed to be as good an excuse as any, so Heinrich seized upon it
eagerly. "Yes," he stammered. "That iss it."

"I don't believe you," said Mr. Cook calmly.

"Please, Mr. Cook," begged Heinrich. "Don't ask me to read it."

"But I want to know what it says."

"I can't read it."

"You don't mean that," said Mr. Cook. "You certainly can read it."