By degrees, as these thoughts ran away with him, Mabuse fell asleep, his limbs reclining on the cushions and his phantasies soaring above all material things. For two long hours he slept, sunk in the darkness of his dreams. Then it seemed as if a little hammer were striking his skull, always on the same spot. It was annoying, and it was unheard of. He had only two hours between Buchloe and Röthenbach in which to sleep. Who had dared to strike his head with this hammer? All at once he was wide awake. The hammer was the whistle of the speaking-tube. “Well?” called out Mabuse. “There is a car behind us.” “What are its marks?” “There is a grey patch on the right lamp.” “What is the time?” “Half-past one.” “And where are we?” “Two kilometres from Röthenbach.” “Pull up! It is Spoerri.” The car stopped, and immediately its lights went out, and so did those of the car which followed. Then it drove close up and stopped. There was a cough heard. “Come here!” said Mabuse. Someone came out of the darkness. Mabuse had drawn the revolver from his coat-pocket. The car-driver turned on a small electric lamp, and its gleam disclosed a man wrapped in a large cloak. “Spoerri?” “Yes, Doctor.” The pistol was returned to its place. “Spoerri, wait here a quarter of an hour, or else drive to Schachen by another route. You must arrive shortly after me, between half-past one and two o’clock. I have decided on some great changes that I want to tell you of before we go to Switzerland. Anything else?” “Everything is in order. I have another hundred kilos of cerium in the car.” “Good. Between half-past one and two o’clock!” They drove on. As their road approached the Austrian frontier, which was patrolled by officials, their lights were extinguished for a while, but in Schlachters they shone out again, and the village was soon left behind them. Half-way to Lindau, where forest and hill meet, they stopped again. “Anybody there?” “No, Doctor.” “Not Pesch?” “I don’t see anybody.” Mabuse quitted the car impatiently. “I will punish him for this. I _will_ have my people punctual!” He waited on, and the minutes crept by. Mabuse slapped his thigh angrily. To keep him waiting! That a smuggler should dare to do such a thing! He was consumed with impatience, and felt as if his dignity were impeached. That a smuggler should keep him, the master, waiting! Five minutes later a car, with faint lights, issued from the junction road and stopped on the highway. “Pesch!” exclaimed Mabuse. A man turned from the open car. “Yes, Doctor, here I am. It is Pesch.” “It is 1.45 a.m., and you were due at 1.35.” “Oh, a matter of ten minutes doesn’t count. _I’ve_ had to wait often enough!” answered the voice in the darkness in a defiant tone. “If I had a horsewhip here I’d cudgel you soundly. Ten minutes mean fifteen kilometres advance upon a pursuer, you fool! You are earning two thousand marks from me to-night.”