Under the baron’s astounded eyes a bit of white cloth was showing itself beneath the door which had so mysteriously claimed his attention. Some one, it seemed, was trying to push the piece of cloth through into the living room. Softly the baron arose, crossed to the door, bent down, and pulled the cloth away. It was a small handkerchief. Turning it over in his hand, he saw that there was writing in pencil on one side of it. The plot was thickening! The baron, overjoyed to find a little excitement where he had expected nothing more than a talkfest, sat down again, spread the handkerchief out on his knee, and puzzled his brain over the following: “STRANGER: Will you be a friend to a woman in distress? I am being detained in this room against my will. I must escape and go back to my home. The horse that brought me should be in the corral. The window of the room is boarded up on the outside, but the boards can be easily removed.” Had the writing been in German, the baron would not have been long in deciphering it, but it was in English and, in places, almost illegible. However, he managed to get at the gist of the communication. A flutter of joy ran through him. Here was an adventure! And the baron could not live and be happy unless adventures were constantly piling in upon him. From the moment the baron had deciphered the writing on the handkerchief, and had made up his mind to act upon the request of the imprisoned lady, he found nothing monotonous in his surroundings. When Frau Dinkelmann asked him to come out into the kitchen and have some supper, he stuffed the handkerchief into his pocket, and moved with alacrity into the rear room. Frau Dinkelmann, sitting on the opposite side of the table while the baron ate, talked unceasingly in the German language. The baron, even if he had been so inclined, could hardly have got a word in edgeways. But he wasn’t anxious to talk. He listened mechanically, and ate mechanically. His mind was busy with the imprisoned lady who had sent him a penciled appeal on her handkerchief. “I vonder iss she young?” thought the baron; “und is she goot-looking? Und vill she be gradeful oof I safe her from der Dinkelmann house?” So far as the mere adventure went, the baron was not particular whether the lady was young or good-looking. But, if she happened to be both, the glamor of romance might be added to the undertaking. “You vill shday der house in till morning?” inquired Frau Dinkelmann, dropping back into her English as the baron arose from the table. “Could I talk mit Fritz in der morning?” he asked. “Vill he feel pedder mit himseluf den?” “Yah, so. You shday und you can talk mit Fritz all vat you blease. I make you a bed der floor on.” “I don’d like to shleep in der house,” demurred the baron. “I like pedder der oudttoors as a shleeping blace. I drafel mit fellers vat shleep oudtoors all der time, und I have got used to it.”