“I was looking at the hotel,” he replied with perfect composure, as he replaced his cap, “and I saw one of our great generals pass in at the door.  At least I thought him such by his uniform, and taking off my cap to honor him I forgot to put in back again.”

Scheller burst into a roar.

“Why, it’s our Castel once more!” he exclaimed.  “Good, honest, simple, patriotic Castel!  You can take off your cap when a general passes, but you needn’t keep it off after he’s gone.”

“I thought it might be our great Kaiser himself.”

“I don’t think he’s in Metz, although he may be near, but your act does credit to your loyalty, Castel.”

John glanced up at the window.  Julie was gone and the twilight was coming over city and fortress.  Yet he had seen her, and he felt that he would be able to follow Auersperg wherever he might go.  He had no doubt that the prince would leave in the morning, traveling swiftly by automobile, but he, plodding on foot, or in any way he could, would surely follow.  It gave him courage to remember the old fable of the tortoise and the hare, a fable which doubtless has proved a vain consolation to many a man, far behind in the race.

“Come to the Inn of the Golden Lion,” he said to Scheller, for whom he had a genuine friendly feeling, “and take a glass of beer with me.  I was wandering about, and it interested me to see the great people go into the hotel or come out.”

“A half-dozen of our famous generals are there,” said Scheller, who seemed to be both well informed now and talkative.

“Some one told me that the great Prince Karl of Auersperg was there, too,” said John at random.

“So he is,” replied Scheller, seeing nothing unusual in the question, “and he has with him under close guard the two French women spies.  It’s quite certain that he will carry them into Austria, perhaps to Salzburg or some place near there.”

It was precious information, given casually by a chance acquaintance, and John believed that it was true.  It was in the region of Salzburg that his great Odyssey had begun, and now it seemed that chance, after many a curve through the smoke of battle, was taking him back there.

“I’m off duty, Castel, and I’ll be glad to go with you,” he heard Scheller saying.  “Beer is always welcome and I think you’re a good fellow.  It’s too bad the blood of your forefathers was French, but it’s had a German stiffening under our rule.”

“The German spirit is strong and the Kaiser’s armies are mighty,” said John sincerely.  “Now we’ll hurry to the inn and have our beer.”

Scheller was not loath, and before the great fire John toasted his health in a huge foaming mug, and Scheller toasted back again.  Then the sergeant gave him a grip of his mighty hand and told him good-by.

“I like you, Castel, lad,” he said, “and whatever you want I hope you’ll get it.”

John, imaginative at all times, but with his nerves keyed to the highest pitch now, took it as an omen.  The kindly Scheller little dreamed what he sought, but the good wishes of a sergeant might have as much effect as those of a general or a prince with the Supreme Power.