"Drawing the cloak over his shoulders, and donning the hat, he stood for some minutes, his huge head sunk between his shoulders till his chin lay on his chest, his short legs straddled apart, and his hands clasped behind him, deep in thought. Amused as I was by his ranting and by the theatrical way in which he posed and dressed the part, his likeness to the great Napoleon was so uncanny, so extraordinary, that, in spite of myself, I was awed and impressed. Then, with the single word 'Come,' he turned and went out, I following him. "Coming to the front door of the house, he opened it cautiously and looked out. We were in a narrow and shabby side street of what I judged to be the East End of London. At the moment of our emergence not a single soul was in sight. The Dumpling crossed the road and gave four slow and deliberate knocks at a door. "'Who is there?' said a voice inside. "'God and Napoleon and the Dumpling strike with granite arm!' was the reply, and the door was immediately opened, the Dumpling and I stepping inside. We were in the narrow hall or passage of a small dwelling house. The man who had admitted us closed the door, and then resumed his chair, which was placed just inside the door. A newspaper which he had been reading lay beside him on the floor, and two small paraffin lamps burned--or, rather, smoked--beside him on another chair. "'All quiet, doorkeeper?' asked the Dumpling. "'All quiet, sir,' was the answer. "Then the Dumpling took up one of the lamps. "'This way, Rissler,' he said, walking along the passage, till he came to a door leading to the basement or kitchen portion of the house. Producing a bunch of keys from his pocket, he unlocked the door, and when he and I had passed through, locked it carefully again. "Passing down some stairs, we came to a stone-flagged passage, along which we walked to another door, leading to a sort of underground cellar. This door the Dumpling also unlocked, and, after we had entered, re-locked; and as he did so, the dream-picture which I had once seen in his eyes, the picture of the Dumpling, myself, and a third and unknown man, standing together in an underground room, came back to me, and I knew that the place I was now in was the place I had seen in the tableau. "Then the Dumpling touched a spring, and a hidden door flew open, revealing a smaller inner room. A man, nonchalantly smoking a cigar, was standing in a far corner, and as, obeying the Dumpling's signal, I passed through the door and saw his face, I gave a short, sharp cry, and fell back in incredulous horror. "'My God!' I said. 'It is not possible! The King!'" [Illustration: "I FELL BACK IN INCREDULOUS HORROR."] CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE MANTLE OF NAPOLEON.