But a State so small that the frontier of its inveterate enemy lies but two short leagues from its gates, has need of watch and ward, and curfews and the like, so that he was fortunate who found the gates of Geneva open after sunset in that year, 1602; and the stranger seemed to know this.
As the great doors clanged together and two of the watch wound up the creaking drawbridge, he turned to the sergeant, the smile still on his face.

"I feared that you would shut me out!" he panted, still holding his sides.

"I would not have given much for my chance of a bed a minute ago." The sergeant answered only by a grunt.
"If this good fellow had not been in front----" This time the sergeant cut him short with an imperious gesture, and the young man seeing that the guard also had fallen stiffly into rank, turned to the tailor.

He was overflowing with good nature: he must speak to some one.

"If you had not been in front," he began, "I----" But the tailor also cut him short--frowning and laying his finger to his lip and pointing mysteriously to the ground.