At length, the peg left the room above, and banged along the hall and bumped down the stairs.

Then all became still once more, and the listener snuggled under the covers again, and slept soundly till eight.

Outside, the day was full, clear, and windy.
On the way to the dining-room, he met the man.

The scars were a little deeper in color and the face was thinner, but there was no shadow of doubt in Fitzgerald's mind.
"Breitmann ?" he said, with a friendly hand.
The other stood still.

There was no recognition in his eyes; at least, Fitzgerald saw none.
"Breitmann is my name, sir," he replied courteously.
"I am Fitzgerald; don't you remember me?
We dined in Paris last year, after we had spent the afternoon with the Napoleonic relics.