He had gone to Weimar to write. Here the new government of Germany had assembled. Delegates, celebrities, frock-coats, strange hair formations; messiah and magician had come to extricate the nation from its unhappy place on the European guillotine. The narrow streets stuttered with argument.... Von Stinnes and a girl named Mathilde Dohmann accompanied him to the town. The Baron, bored for the moment with his labors, had immersed his volatile self in a diligent pursuit of Mathilde. He had discovered her among communist councils in Berlin and naïvely attached her as a part of Dorn's secretarial retinue. "She will be of service," he announced. Dorn, preoccupied with the scheme of his history, paid little attention to her. Arrived in Weimar he became entirely active, viewing with amusement the Baron's sophisticated assault upon the ardent-voiced, red-haired political spitfire whom he called Matty. Alone in an old tavern room, he gave himself to the arrangements of words clamoring for utterance in his thought. Old words. Old ideas. Notions dormant since years ago. Phrases, ironies remembered out of conversations themselves forgotten. The book was finished towards the middle of March--a history of the post-war Germany; with a biography between the lines of Erik Dorn. Von Stinnes had forthwith produced two German scholars who, under his direction, accomplished the translation with astonishing speed. Excerpts from the thin red-and black-covered volume found their way overnight into the press of the nation. Periodicals seized upon the extended brochure as a _Dokument_. In pamphlet form the gist of it started upon the rounds of Europe. The garrulity of the day had been given for the moment a new direction. * * * * * * "We will go to Munich. There will be a revolution in Munich. I have news from secret sources." Baron von Stinnes, lounging wearily in front of a chess-board, spoke and raised a cup of mocha to his lips. Dorn, picking his way through a German novel, looked up gloomily and nodded. "Anywhere," he agreed. "Munich, Moscow, Peking." In a corner of the room Mathilde was curled on the luxurious hotel divan watching through half-closed eyes the figures of the men. The Baron turned toward her and frowned. In return her face, almost asleep, became vivid with a sneer. The Baron's love-making had gone astray. "Matty is going to try to carry a million marks into Munich for the Communists," he announced. The girl stared von Stinnes into silence. "How do you know that?" she asked slowly. He lowered his cup and with a show of polite deliberation removed his monocle and wiped it with a silk handkerchief. "I know many things," he smiled. "The money comes from Dr. Kasnilov and will be brought to Dr. Max Levine in Munich, and the good Max will buy a garrison of Landwehr with it and establish the soviet republic of Bavaria." "You know Levine?" "Very well," smiled the Baron.