Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.
—Walt Whitman.
 
Armitage dined alone that evening and left the hotel at nine o'clock for a walk. He unaffectedly enjoyed paved ground and the sights and ways of cities, and he walked aimlessly about the lighted thoroughfares of the capital with conscious pleasure in the movement and color of life. He let his eyes follow the Washington Monument's gray line starward; and he stopped to enjoy the high-poised statue of Sherman, to which the dusk gave something of and Old World charm.
 
Coming out upon Pennsylvania Avenue he strolled past the White House, and, at the wide-flung gates, paused while a carriage swept by him at the driveway. He saw within the grim face of von Marhof and unconsciously lifted his hat, though the Ambassador was deep in thought and did not see him. Armitage struck the pavement smartly with his stick as he walked slowly on, pondering; but he was conscious a moment later that some one was loitering in his wake. Armitage was at once on the alert with all his sharpened. He turned and gradually slackened his pace, and the person behind him immediately did likewise.
 
The sensation of being followed is at first annoying; then a pleasant creeps into it, and in Armitage's case the reaction was . He was even amused to reflect that the shadow had chosen for his exploit what is probably the most and the best-guarded spot in America. It was not yet ten o'clock, but the streets were comparatively free of people. He slackened his pace gradually, and threw open his overcoat, for the night was warm, to give an impression of ease, and when he had reached the of the Building he paused and studied it in the glare of the electric lights, as though he were a chance traveler taking a preliminary view of the sights of the capital. A man still lingered behind him, drawing nearer now, at a moment when they had the sidewalk comparatively free to themselves. The fellow was short, but of soldierly , and even in his loitering pace lifted his feet with the quick precision of the drilled man. Armitage walked to the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue and Fifteenth Street, then turned and his steps slowly past the Treasury Building. The man who had been following faced about and walked slowly in the opposite direction, and Armitage, quickening his own pace, amused himself by dogging the fellow's steps closely for twenty yards, then passed him.
 
When he had gained the advantage of a few feet, Armitage stopped suddenly and to the man in the casual tone he might have used in addressing a passing acquaintance.
 
"My friend," he said, "there are two policemen across the street; if you continue to follow me I shall call their attention to you."
 
"Pardon me—"
 
"You are watching me; and the thing won't do."
 
"Yes, I'm watching you; but—"
 
"But the thing won't do! If you are hired—"
 
"Nein! Nein! You do me a wrong, sir."
 
"Then if you are not hired you are your own master, and you serve yourself ill when you take the trouble to follow me. Now I'm going to finish my walk, and I beg you to keep out of my way. This is not a place where liberties may be with . Good evening, sir."
 
Armitage wheeled about sharply, and as his face came into the full light of the street lamps the stranger stared at him intently.
 
Armitage was in his pocket for a coin, but this impertinence caused him to change his mind. Two policemen were walking slowly toward them, and Armitage, annoyed by the whole incident, walked quickly away.
 
He was not wholly at ease over the meeting. The fact that Chauvenet had so put a spy as well as the Servian assassin on his trail quickened his pulse with anger for an instant and then sobered him.
 
He continued his walk, and paused presently before an array of books in a shop window. Then some one stopped at his side and he looked up to find the same man he had at the Treasury Building lifting his hat,—an American soldier's campaign hat. The fellow was an extreme blond, with a smooth-shaven, weather-beaten face, blue eyes and light hair.
 
"Pardon me! You are mistaken; I am not a spy. But it is wonderful; it is quite wonderful—"
 
The man's face was alight with discovery, with an alert pleasure that awaited recognition.
 
"My dear fellow, you really become annoying," and Armitage again thrust his hand into his trousers pocket. "I should hate to appeal to the police; but you must not crowd me too far."
 
The man seemed moved by deep feeling, and his eyes were bright with excitement. His hands clasped tightly the railing that protected the glass window of the book shop. As Armitage turned away impatiently the man ejaculated huskily, as though some over-mastering influence the words from him:
 
"Don't you know me? I am Oscar—don't you remember me, and the great forest, where I taught you to shoot and fish? You are—"
 
He toward Armitage with a fierce , his eyes blazing in his eagerness to be understood.
 
John Armitage turned again to the window, leaned lightly upon the iron railing and studied the title of a book . He was silently absorbed for a full minute, in which the man who had followed him waited. Taking his cue from Armitage's manner he appeared to be deeply interested in the bookseller's display; but the excitement still glittered in his eyes.
 
Armitage was thinking swiftly, and his thoughts covered a very wide range of time and place as he stood there. Then he spoke very and coolly, but with a certain sharpness.
 
"Go ahead of me to the New American and wait in the office until I come."
 
The man's hand went to his hat.
 
"None of that!"
 
Armitage arrested him with a gesture. "My name is Armitage,—John
Armitage," he said. "I advise you to remember it. Now go!"
The man hurried away, and Armitage slowly followed.
 
It occurred to him that the man might be of use, and with this in mind he returned to the New American, got his key from the office, nodded to his acquaintance of the street and led the way to the elevator.
 
Armitage put aside his coat and hat, locked the hall door, and then, when the two stood face to face in his little , he surveyed the man carefully.
 
"What do you want?" he demanded bluntly.
 
He took a cigarette from a box on the table, lighted it, and then, with an air of finality, his gaze upon the man, who eyed him with a kind of stupefied wonder. Then there flashed into the fellow's bronzed face something of dignity and . He stood with his felt hat clasped in his hand. His clothes were cheap, but clean, and his short coat was buttoned trimly about him.
 
"I want nothing, Mr. Armitage," he replied , speaking slowly and with a marked German accent.
 
"Then you will be easily satisfied," said Armitage. "You said your name was—?"
 
"Oscar—Oscar Breunig."
 
Armitage sat down and the man again without relaxing his severity.
 
"You think you have seen me somewhere, so you have followed me in the streets to make sure. When did this idea first occur to you?"
 
"I saw you at Fort Myer at the drill last Friday. I have been looking for you since, and saw you leave your horse at the hotel this afternoon. You ride at Rock Creek—yes?"
 
"What do you do for a living, Mr. Breunig?" asked Armitage.
 
"I was in the army, but served out my time and was discharged............