"They were written by a person whom I never saw, and were given to me by a friend,--an acquaintance,--of mine, as a means of gaining information about the country; such information as that for which I am indebted to you. I have been a good deal perplexed as to the character of the persons to whom they were written." "Very probably I could aid you." Morton mentioned the names of the men he had seen. The German at first looked puzzled, then amazed, then distrustful. "Your letters were got for you by a friend of yours?" "Yes." "And were written by----" "A professor from Berlin, named Speyer,--Henry Speyer." "Henry Speyer!" repeated the German, in astonishment. "You were saying that you had lived for some years at Berlin. Perhaps you can tell me who and what he is." "I know of no Professor Henry Speyer at Berlin." "This man, I am told, is well known as a philologist." "There is a Henry Speyer who is a philologist, so far as speaking every language in Europe can make him one; but he was never a professor in Berlin or any where else." Morton looked perplexed. The German studied his face for a moment, and then said,-- "You say that a friend of yours gave you letters from Henry Speyer to the men you just named?" "Yes." "I beg your pardon! Have you ever quarrelled with your friend? Are you on terms with your friend's mistress? or do you stand between your friend and a fortune?" A cold thrill passed through Morton's frame. There was an approach to truth in both the two last suppositions. "Either you are very much deeper than I know how to comprehend you, or else you are the victim of a plot." "What kind of plot?" demanded the startled Morton; "who is Speyer, and who are the other men?" "I will tell you. Speyer is an intriguer, a revolutionist, a man in every way infamous. As for his being a professor, he is no more a professor than he is a prime minister, and you may ascribe what motives you please to your friend for giving him the name. He dares not set foot in Austria. If he did, it would go very hard with him. The other men are of the same kidney--his aiders, abetters, fellow conspirators; known or suspected to be plotting for the overthrow of the government." "Then why are they at liberty?" "Do you call it liberty to be day and night under the eye of the police--to be dogged and watched every hour of their lives? They serve as a sort of decoy. All who hold communication with them are noted down as dangerous; and my only wonder is, that you have not before this heard from the police." "And what would you advise me to do?" "Get out of Austria as soon and as quietly as you can. When you have passed the frontier you will be safe, and not before." CHAPTER XXXVI. Monsieur, j'ai deux mots a vous dire; Messieurs les marechaux, dont j'ai commandement, Vous mandent de venir les trouver promptement, Monsieur.--_Le Misanthrope_.