And she did. They were of heavy silver, with a quaint monogram on the handles of the forks. No doubt heirlooms of several generations back. Without more ado the two friends began with hearty appetites on the two portions of steaks, the delicately browned potatoes, and the eggs. Everything had a delicious taste, for, aside from their hunger, the meal was excellently cooked. "I will make the coffee, Fritz," said his wife, "and how would you like some German pancake?" "We would like nothing better," agreed the engineer. "I'm good for any kind of a pancake," said Jim heartily, and he was not exaggerating, either. How good that coffee did smell, and it tasted equal to its aroma. As for the big, flat, German pancakes, with their coating of powdered sugar and side dishes of apple sauce, pleasantly tart with sliced lemon,--well, Jim always had the tantalizing memory of them when in other days he was furiously hungry, which latter he was destined to be on more than one occasion. Jim, nevertheless, had not forgotten the business in hand, even while eating. "Herr Scheff, could you tell me about the people who live in the castle upon the bluff above you?" he questioned. A cold shadow came over the German's round face. It was evident that at heart he was anything but a genial man given to much talk. "I do not make my head ache about what I don't know," he replied; "my business is to cook for whoever pays me. That's all I say." "Oh! I see!" exclaimed Jim, somewhat taken aback. He noticed that Frau Scheff seemed somewhat uneasy, but nevertheless she made no effort to speak. "Herr Scheff, how about that man with the gray suit, for whom you got a lunch to-day, shortly after noon?" asked John Berwick. For a moment the German's face took on a decided pallor, and then his expression took on a blank, noncommittal look. There was no getting behind that stolid wall. He shook his head heavily. "I know nothing about that; maype you are a reporter, eh?" John Berwick laughed heartily. "You do me too much honor, Herr Scheff," he said; "I have not the gifts of imagination or the requisite nerve for such a profession." "Ach! but Fritz--" his wife began, but she stopped with a sigh at the malevolent look her husband shot at her. Not willing to make trouble for the kind-hearted German woman, Jim and his friend refrained from making any further inquiries. In the course of time they finished their meal, and prepared to leave, feeling like new men and fully ready physically for anything that might be in store for them. The proprietor had regained his surface good humor, and seemed anxious to make the two strangers forget his abruptness. As for his wife, she was her usual warm-hearted self, and there were tears in her eyes when she said good-by to Jim. "Don't forget my little Fritz," she urged, and Jim promised, and this seemed to give her much comfort.