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I was merely endeavoring to point out to you at the instance of my friend here" a jerk of the elbow towards Von Wetten "the advantages of a million marks, or several million marks, plus the cashiering of Colonel von Specht from the army, over the personal satisfaction which you have demanded for yourself. But since you insist."

His strong hands tightened; the paper-knife broke with a snap. "And that is Germany to-morrow broken. We have failed." He threw the two pieces from him to the floor and stared under the pent of his brows at Von Wetten. Their eyes engaged. But one of the pieces slid across the floor to Herr Haase's feet.

Herr Haase, and even the salient and insistent presence of Von Wetten, thinned and became vague ghostly, ineffectual natives of the background in the stark light of the reality of that encounter. There were some sentences, mere feigning, upon that radiant perspective which the wide windows framed.

The Baron was at his little table, seated sideways in his chair, toying with an ivory paper-knife, large against the light. Von Wetten stood beside him, tall and very stiff, withdrawn into himself behind his mask of Prussian officer and aristocrat; and in a low chair, back to the door and facing the other two, Bettermann sat.

Von Wetten stared, arrested in the very act of rising. "Zu Befehl, Herr Baron," he said, in a strained voice, and continued staring. The Baron watched him frowningly an instant, to make sure of his submission, and turned again to Herr Bettermann where he stood, lean and glowering, before them. "Now," he said, "I am beginning to see my way dimly, dimly.

"Captain Graf von Specht, the Kaiserjaeger," he read aloud. "Ever hear of him, Von Wetten?" Von Wetten nodded. "Neighbor of mine in the country, Excellenz," he replied. "We were at the cadet-school together. Colonel now; promoted during the war. He would regret, I am sure." "He will regret, I am sure," interrupted the Baron, pocketing the card. "And he will have good cause.

Frieda rolled under the fence and stepped boldly in. Polly, gasping with laughter, started to climb over. "You might as well roll," advised Frieda. "You can't wetten yourself more than you are already, and it is pleasant to roll." "That's a matter of taste!" panted Polly, balancing herself on the top of the fence. Suddenly Frieda gave a little shriek.

The Baron raised an arm as if to guard his face, and kept it raised; Von Wetten let his eyeglass fall, lifted it in his hand and held it there; only Herr Haase, preserving his formal attitude of obedient waiting, his large bland face inert, stood unmoved, passively watching this incident of his trade.

Herr Haase stood, in the contented torpor of service and obedience, holding the heavy suit-case to one side of the gate; to the other, the Baron and Von Wetten stood together.

"That is the only way to do things no limit, in money or anything else! Well, Haase can bring the car round at what time, Von Wetten?" "Twenty minutes to five!" Von Wetten threw the words over his shoulder. "And I shall lunch up here; it's cooler. You'd better lunch with me, and we can talk. Send up a waiter as you go, my good Haase." Herr Haase bowed, but clicked only faintly.