"O Okewood! how empty are thy leaves!"

What, then, of the other two phrases?

They were short and simple.  Whatever message they conveyed, it could not be a lengthy one.  Nor was it likely that they contained a report of Francis’ mission to Germany, whatever it had been.  Indeed, it was not conceivable that my brother would send any such report to a Dutchman like van Urutius, a friendly enough fellow, yet a mere acquaintance and an alien at that.

The message carried in those two phrases must be, I felt sure, a personal one, relating to my brother’s welfare.  What would he desire to say?  That he was arrested, that he was going to be shot?  Possibly, but more probably his idea in sending out word was to explain his silence and also to obtain assistance.

My eye recurred continually to the final phrase:  “When two people fall out, the third party rejoices.”

Might not these numerals refer to the number of a street?  Might not in these two phrases be hidden an address at which one might find Francis, or at the worst, hear news of him?

I sent for the Berlin Directory.  I turned up the streets section and eagerly ran my eye down the columns of the “A’s.”  I did not find what I was looking for, and that was an “Achilles-Strasse,” either with two “l’s” or with one.

Then I tried “Eichenholz.”  There was an “Eichenbaum-Allee” in the Berlin suburb called West-End, but that was all.  I tried for a “Blaetter” or a “Blatt-Strasse” with an equally negative result.

It was discouraging work, but I went back to the paper again.  The only other word likely to serve as a street remaining in the puzzle was “Zelt.”

“Wie Achiles in dem Zelte.”

Wearily I opened the directory at the “Z’s.”

There, staring me in the face, I found the street called “In den
Zelten.”

I had struck the trail at last.

In den Zelten, I discovered, on referring to the directory again, derived its name “In the Tents,” from the fact that in earlier days a number of open-air beer-gardens and booths had occupied the site which faces the northern side of the Tiergarten.  It was not a long street.  The directory showed but fifty-six houses, several of which, I noticed, were still beer-gardens.  It appeared to be a fashionable thoroughfare, for most of the occupants were titled people.  No. 3, I was interested to see, was still noted as the Berlin office of The Times.

The last phrase in the message decidedly gave the number. Two must refer to the number of the house:  third to the number of the floor, since practically all dwelling-houses in Berlin are divided off into flats.

As for the “Achiles,” I gave it up.