"You have not got an hotel yet?" said Schmalz. "Why, how curious! Nor have I!S As you are a stranger in Berlin, you must allow me to appoint myself your guide. Let us go to an hotel together, shall we?" I wanted to demur, difficult as it was to find any acceptable excuse, but his manner was so friendly, his offer seemed so sincere, that I felt my resolution wavering. He had a winning personality, this frank, handsome boy. And I was so dog-tired! He perceived my reluctance but also my indecision. "We'll go to any hotel you like," he said brightly. "But you Americans are spoilt in the matter of luxurious hotels, I know. Still, I tell you we have not much to learn in that line in Berlin. Suppose we go to the Esplanade. It's a fine hotel ... the Hamburg American line run it, you know. I am very well known there, quite the _Hauskind_ ... my uncle was a captain of one of their liners. They will make us very comfortable: they always give me a little suite, bedroom, sitting-room and bath, very reasonably: I'll make them do the same for you." If I had been less weary--I have often thought since--I would have got up and fled from the café rather than have countenanced any such mad proposal. But I was drunk with sleep heaviness and I snatched at this chance of getting a good night's rest, for I felt that, under the aegis of this young officer, I could count on any passport difficulties at the hotel being postponed until morning. By that time, I meant to be out of the hotel and away on my investigations. So I accepted Schmalz's suggestion. "By the way," I said, "I have no luggage. My bag got mislaid somehow at the station and I don't really feel up to going after it to-night." "I will fix you up," the other replied promptly, "and with pyjamas in the American fashion. By the by," he added, lowering his voice, "I thought it better to speak German. English is not heard gladly in Berlin just now." "I quite understand," I said. Then, to change the subject, which I did not like particularly, I added: "Surely, you have been very quick in coming down from the frontier. Did you come by train?" "Oh, no!" he answered. "I found that the car in which you drove to the station ... it belonged to the gentleman who came to meet you, you know ... was being sent back to Berlin by road, so I got the driver to give me a lift." He said this quite airily, with his usual tone of candour. But for a moment I regretted my decision to go to the Esplanade with him. What if he knew more than he seemed to know? I dismissed the suspicion from my mind. "Bah!" I said to myself, "you are getting jumpy. Besides, it is too late to turn back now!" We had a friendly wrangle as to who should pay for the drinks, and it ended in my paying. Then, after a long wait, we managed to get a cab, an antique-looking "growler" driven by an octogenarian in a coat of many capes, and drove to the Esplanade.