“Ay, you shall go where I am going, my lad,” said Rudolf encouragingly; and he laughed a little as he looked down at the fellow’s face. Along they went; soon they came to the small numbers at the station end of the Konigstrasse. Rudolf began to peer up at the shop fronts. “It’s cursed dark,” said he. “Pray, lad, can you make out which is nineteen?” The moment he had spoken the smile broadened on his face. The shot had gone home. Bauer was a clever scoundrel, but his nerves were not under perfect control, and his arm had quivered under Rudolf’s. “Nineteen, sir?” he stammered. “Ay, nineteen. That’s where we’re bound for, you and I. There I hope we shall find--what we want.” Bauer seemed bewildered: no doubt he was at a loss how either to understand or to parry the bold attack. “Ah, this looks like it,” said Rudolf, in a tone of great satisfaction, as they came to old Mother Holf’s little shop. “Isn’t that a one and a nine over the door, my lad? Ah, and Holf! Yes, that’s the name. Pray ring the bell. My hands are occupied.” Rudolf’s hands were indeed occupied; one held Bauer’s arm, now no longer with a friendly pressure, but with a grip of iron; in the other the captive saw the revolver that had till now lain hidden. “You see?” asked Rudolf pleasantly. “You must ring for me, mustn’t you? It would startle them if I roused them with a shot.” A motion of the barrel told Bauer the direction which the shot would take. “There’s no bell,” said Bauer sullenly. “Ah, then you knock?” “I suppose so.” “In any particular way, my friend?” “I don’t know,” growled Bauer. “Nor I. Can’t you guess?” “No, I know nothing of it.” “Well, we must try. You knock, and--Listen, my lad. You must guess right. You understand?” “How can I guess?” asked Bauer, in an attempt at bluster. “Indeed, I don’t know,” smiled Rudolf. “But I hate waiting, and if the door is not open in two minutes, I shall arouse the good folk with a shot. You see? You quite see, don’t you?” Again the barrel’s motion pointed and explained Mr. Rassendyll’s meaning.