Hammersley hoped. He clung to the thought of Lindberg’s fidelity and affection as a dying man clings to the hope of Heaven. He tried to analyze the old man’s capacities for sympathy and courage. To help a man in his position seemed to require larger stores of both of these qualities than human clay was molded for. Lindberg did not fear death, he knew, but the death he courted was the kind of death Hammersley had saved him from, a good death in a fair game with a noble enemy, not the kind of death that awaited Hammersley, a cold, machine-made death against a kitchen wall. And he must know as Hammersley knew that this was what would follow. The dusk faded into dark and the soldier lit a candle. Hammersley turned his head and examined him attentively. His face was unfamiliar at Blaufelden, one of the men probably sent down at von Stromberg’s orders from the upper district to be useful in just this emergency. Von Stromberg would make no mistakes, of course. He never did make mistakes. He had enough men about him to cope with the situation safely. He would leave no opportunity for his plans to miscarry. Any opportunity, should there be one, must be created. Hammersley managed to wriggle into a sitting posture on the bed and spoke to his captor in German. “You wouldn’t mind my having a smoke, would you?” he asked. The man looked at him, debating the matter. “Just get into the side pocket of my jacket and fish out my pipe and tobacco, _mein junger_. I need a smoke badly. And so would you if you were going to be shot in the morning.” “_Ach, wohl._ I see no harm in that, _mein Herr_. You cannot smoke yourself away.” He came over, brought out Hammersley’s short pipe, filled it from the pouch and stuck it between his lips. Then he got out a match and lighted it while Hammersley puffed. “Ah!” said Hammersley contentedly. “You are a good fellow. Tomorrow morning I will give you my blessing.” The man paced stolidly up and down beside the bed. “I am sorry for you, _mein Herr_. But it is life. It is all decided for us beforehand. We are here a moment and then we are gone.” Hammersley smiled. “A fatalist! Then perhaps you can tell me if there is any chance of my escape.” He was stopped abruptly. “I can tell you that there is not,” he said severely. “I would have said as much. But it was a pardonable curiosity, _nicht wahr_?” “Pardonable, _ja wohl_,” the man replied, “but most unseemly under the circumstances.” “You have a deep sense of your responsibilities.” “_Ja._ I obey my orders, that is all. I do not care what others do.” “Therefore you will shoot me tomorrow.” “Perhaps,” he shrugged. “I am but an instrument of Providence.” He waved his hand. “But I talk too much, and so do you. It is not seemly in a soldier and a prisoner.” Hammersley laughed. “You have a fine sense of the fitness of things.” “_Ja._ It was so written.”