"Mind!" In my eagerness I banged back the compartment doors with a crash that brought down the conductor. I saw my companion hastily corrupt that official whose murmured "_Bitteschon_" implied an un-Teutonic disregard for the fact that he had done something _verboten_ by admitting a second class passenger into a first class coupé; and the stranger entered. We were gazing upon a strikingly handsome fair-haired man not yet thirty. His eyes twinkled when he said that he supposed we were Americans. His manner and intonation made me stare at him. "And you?" we finally asked. "I'm going first to Berlin, then to Petrograd," he said, perhaps avoiding our question. "Business trip." We chatted on, the obvious thought obsessing me. Of course the man was an English spy. But how absurd! If his face did not give him away to any one who knew--and my word for it, those police spies do know!--he would be betrayed by his mannerisms. His accent would instantly cry out the English in him. Of what could Downing Street be thinking? It was sending this man to certain death. One began to feel sorry for him. Feeling the intimacy brought by the common experience at Warnemunde, I presently said: "You certainly have your nerve with you, traveling in Germany with _your_ accent." "Why?" he laughed. "A neutral is safe." Expecting he would follow this up by saying he was an American I looked inquiring and when he sought to turn the subject I asked: "Neutral? What country?" "Denmark," he smiled. "But your accent?" I persisted. "I do talk a bit English, do I not? I had quite a go at it, though; lived in London a few years, you know." Nerve? I marveled at it. Stark foolhardy courage, or did a secret commission from Downing Street make this the merest commonplace of duty? Charming company, he hurried along the time with well told anecdotes of the Russian capital and Paris, in both of which places he said he had been since the war began. As we drew near Lübeck, where a thirty-five minute stop was allowed for dinner in the station, and the stranger showed no signs of going back to his own compartment, I could see that the courier was becoming annoyed. Relapsing into silence he only broke it to reply to the "Dane" in monosyllables; finally, to my surprise, the courier became downright rude. As the stranger, from the start, had been extremely courteous, this rudeness surprised me, more so, as it seemed deliberate. Bludgeoned by obvious hints the stranger excused himself, and as soon as he was gone my companion leaned towards me. "You were surprised at my rudeness," he said, and then in an undertone; "it was deliberate." "I saw that. But why?" "Because," he explained, "seeing we are Americans that fellow wanted to travel with us all the way through. He must have known that American company is the best to be seen in over here these days. He might have made trouble for us." "Then you also think he's English?"