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She reached a turnpike-gate which stood upon the highway to the village. It was thrown open by a stranger, not by the old man who had kept it for many years, and to whom she had been known; he had probably left on New Year's Day, the date when such changes were made. Having received no intelligence lately from her home, she asked the turnpike-keeper for news. "Oh nothing, miss," he answered.
"There is something else," cried the gendarme suddenly; and he pointed to a folded paper lying on a little table by the door. "My last will and testament. To be opened immediately," was written on the document in the rather shaky but distinct handwriting of the turnpike-keeper. The "immediately" was underlined three times.
The gendarme pushed the kitchen-door open; the room was cold as ice. On the hearth a handful of broken sticks had been placed, and the match-box lay beside them ready for kindling the fire. The front room was darkened by the closed shutters, and a close smell as from a vault met them when the door was opened. There sat the turnpike-keeper at the table dead.
The visitor's time was up. Once more the son regarded with loving pride the venerable appearance of his father. "Why, you have put on all your medals, father!" he said, smiling a little. "Yes," replied the turnpike-keeper. "I put on all my medals when I came to see you." And, in a loud voice, that the inspector might hear, he repeated: "I put them on for you, my dear good boy, and for you only."
The two rival parties, social-democrats and conservatives, were now preparing anew for battle. Every single vote was of consequence, and canvassing went on busily. Election literature flooded the constituency; it was thrown in at open windows and pushed under door-sills. The turnpike-keeper had hitherto always placed himself at the disposal of the conservative candidate.
Frank, however, missed the short cut, and came out into the high road; a turnpike-keeper, after first taking his toll, put him back again into the short cut; and finally, he got into some green lanes, where a dilapidated finger-post directed him to Rood.
He talked glibly to the gunner about the honour and distinction to be won as a non-commissioned officer, not forgetting to observe how much the father at home would rejoice to see the son following in his footsteps. Vogt asked his father's advice, and the turnpike-keeper wrote back: "Jump at your captain's offer, my lad.
The old man stretched out the folded voting-paper with a hesitating movement; the magistrate took it and placed it in the tin-box which served as a receptacle for the votes. He nodded familiarly to the elector; this was a certain vote for the conservatives. But the turnpike-keeper did not respond to the greeting.
Many strange adventures occurred to Tom in South Wales, but those which befell him whilst officiating as a turnpike-keeper were certainly the most extraordinary. If what he says be true, as of course it is for who shall presume to doubt Tom O' the Dingle's veracity? whosoever fills the office of turnpike-keeper in Wild Wales should be a person of very considerable nerve.
Shortly afterwards a grenadier announced: "Bombardier Vogt is here, sir." "Let him come in," said the inspector. Then he turned away, and stood looking out of the window. Franz Vogt went quietly up to his father and looked into his face with his frank honest eyes. "Good-day, father," he said simply. The turnpike-keeper took his son's hand in both his own.
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