"To Vienna. Until this passport is found the Herr must consider himself under arrest." In vain I pleaded the unprotected position of my young companion. All the concession I could get was permission to speak a few words with him, which I did with much caution, simply assuring him of my speedy return, and extracting his promise that, if I were detained by my "friend," he would return with the fiacre to the hotel, and quietly await my arrival. "I will do all the good Englishman asks of me"; and a warm pressure of the hand made me feel that Jules understood the extremity of the case. At once to the bureau. I was so confident of finding the passport and utterly confounding the officer who had given me all this trouble, that I am afraid my manner was rather supercilious, to say the least of it. The commissaire heard my story somewhat impatiently. "The officer's number to whom you say you gave your passport?" "I did not notice it." "His name?" "I never demanded it." A grin on the face of the commissaire, a very sarcastic curl of the lip, a shrug of the shoulders, an ominous silence. "Sir," said I, somewhat sobered by the course events had taken, "I am a British subject!" "Zo?" "A graduate of the University of Oxford." "Zo?" "Tutor in the family of the Earl of Tottenbridge." "Zo?" "Son of a county magistrate." "Zo? And nevertheless you are arrested for wandering about like a rogue and vagabond without a passport. We know not who you are, what you are, where you come from. The question with us is, Where is your passport? It is enough." And before I could reply his back was turned. A whitewashed room, sixteen feet square, one barred window, one iron bedstead, one wooden bench--such was my apartment and the inventory of its furniture; and I felt my heart sink as the key in the door turned with an ominous click, and I was left to enjoy my solitary meditations. What could I do? For an hour I racked my brain. Dared I apply to the English embassy? I would, come what might of it. A few blows on the panel of my door brought the officer. "I wish to make immediate application to Lord Cowley." "I will see." He returned in a few minutes. "Lord Cowley is not in Vienna now. He is at the Grand Baths." "Still, there is somebody at the embassy office. I must go there." After a brief interview with his superior, the permission was accorded. The officer and I reached the embassy building, and as I passed the jovial English porter at the door, my heart rose, for already I felt the shadow of the British lion over me. A pale, emaciated, gentlemanly youth, with a gold eyeglass, was standing with his back to the fire, reading a copy of the "Times," while at his feet lay a magnificent bull-and-mastiff, by far the more dignified animal of the two. The exquisite gave no sign of his knowledge of our presence. "Ahem!" No attention. The dog yawned, the great clock on the wall ticked with an aggravating loudness, and at last I broke out--