This part of my programme also ran off smoothly. My friend Otto and all my other friends were present, and while my heart was leaping within me for proud joy over my new-discovered talent for adventure, I unfolded my fictitious plan of travel as coolly as possible. The only person who seemed to be interested was my friend Otto. “Going out of town?” he said. “Is it certain?” “Quite certain,” I replied; “I shall be leaving to-morrow morning.” “Where to?” “Humph--a short trip to the country--to visit some relatives.” “For how long?” he queried further. “That depends; two or three days at the most.” It was really strange that he should be so inquisitive--and withal there was a peculiar look in his eyes. “He can’t know?” I asked myself involuntarily, but I did not complete my sentence. “That is all nonsense,” I said to myself; “he doesn’t even know anything about the novel--how could he guess anything?” Indeed, he seemed quite satisfied at last, and when I had left them all I walked home with the consciousness that things were going finely. “Are you the gentleman?” asked a deep, grumbling voice, when in the grey dawn of morning I entered the yard next morning. Without breakfast, for I had not wished to betray myself to my landlady, with a false beard on my face and a wig on my head, and an enormous pair of horn spectacles on my nose--my feelings can readily be imagined. And with all that I felt it incumbent upon me to feign a cheerful manner to keep Gustav--for I judged him to be the possessor of the bass voice--in good spirits. “The weather will be gorgeous to-day,” I said, apparently in the best of humour, while my teeth were chattering with cold. Gustav grunted like a bear disturbed in his winter’s sleep. “Can I put on the things?” I asked. Gustav pointed to the office. “In there,” he said; “I’ll be hitching up while you’re about it.” Soon after I came forth attired as a cab-driver. In the middle of the yard stood the cab with a horse before it, which in the light of early dawn looked like some antediluvian animal. Gustav was occupied with the harness, and seemed disinclined to take notice of me. “Here we are,” I said in a tone of assumed gaiety, which was not at all in keeping with my inmost mood. I seemed unspeakably ridiculous to myself. Gustav looked at me askance, and made some inarticulate ejaculation. His conduct was not particularly encouraging. Upon the box I saw some sort of a receptacle with an open top. “Aha,” I said, stepping up to it, “I presume this is the fodder-chest?” Gustav looked at the receptacle and then at me. “That there?” he said; “sure, that’s my hat.” “Ah, so----” I stammered in embarrassment; “your hat? Permit me.” It was with strange feelings that I took the hat from the box and held it in my hand. “Number twelve thirty-two,” said Gustav laconically. “Twelve thirty-two,” I repeated. It was the first time in my life that I felt I had a number.