Herisau!"
"Yes," said my friend; "do you know him?"

I was glad that three crashing, tremendous chords came from the
orchestra just then, giving me time to collect myself before I

replied: "I am not sure whether it is the same person: I knew a
Baron von Herisau long ago: how old is the gentleman here?"

"About thirty-five, I should think," my friend answered.
"Ah, then it can't be the same person," said I: "still, if he

should happen to pass near us, will you point him out to me?"
It was an hour later, and we were all hotly discussing the question

of Lessing's obligations to English literature, when one of the
gentlemen at the table said: "There goes the Baron von Herisau: is

it perhaps your friend, sir?"
I turned and saw a tall man, with prominent nose, opaque black

eyes, and black mustache, walking beside a pretty, insipid girl.
Behind the pair went an elderly couple, overdressed and snobbish in

appearance. A carriage, with servants in livery, waited in the
open space below the terrace, and having received the two couples,

whirled swiftly away towards Altenstein.
Had I been more of a philosopher I should have wasted no second

thought on the Baron von Herisau. But the Nemesis of the knowledge
which I had throttled poor Otto Lindenschmidt's ghost to obtain had

come upon me at last, and there was no rest for me until I had
discovered who and what was the Baron. The list of guests which

the landlord gave me whetted my curiosity to a painful degree; for
on it I found the entry: "Aug. 15.--Otto V. Herisau, Rentier,

East Prussia."
It was quite dark when the carriage returned. I watched the

company into the supper-room, and then, whisking in behind them,
secured a place at the nearest table. I had an hour of quiet,

stealthy observation before my Coburg friend discovered me, and by
that time I was glad of his company and had need of his confidence.

But, before making use of him in the second capacity, I desired to
make the acquaintance of the adjoining partie carree. He had

bowed to them familiarly in passing, and when the old gentleman
said, "Will you not join us, Herr ----?" I answered my friend's

interrogative glance with a decided affirmative, and we moved to
the other table.

My seat was beside the Baron von Herisau, with whom I exchanged the
usual commonplaces after an introduction. His manner was cold and

taciturn, I thought, and there was something forced in the smile
which accompanied his replies to the remarks of the coarse old

lady, who continually referred to the "Herr Baron" as authority
upon every possible subject. I noticed, however, that he cast a

sudden, sharp glance at me, when I was presented to the company as
an American.

The man's neighborhood disturbed me. I was obliged to let the
conversation run in the channels already selected, and stupid

enough I found them. I was considering whether I should not give
a signal to my friend and withdraw, when the Baron stretched his

hand across the table for a bottle of Affenthaler, and I caught
sight of a massive gold ring on his middle finger. Instantly I

remembered the ring which "B. V. H." had given to Otto
Lindenschmidt, and I said to myself, "That is it!" The inference

followed like lightning that it was "Johann Helm" who sat beside
me, and not a Baron von Herisau!

That evening my friend and I had a long, absorbing conversation in
my room. I told him the whole story, which came back vividly to

memory, and learned, in return, that the reputed Baron was supposed
to be wealthy, that the old gentleman was a Bremen merchant or

banker, known to be rich, that neither was considered by those who
had met them to be particularly intelligent or refined, and that

the wooing of the daughter had already become so marked as to be a
general subject of gossip. My friend was inclined to think my

conjecture correct, and willingly co-operated with me in a plan to
test the matter. We had no considerablesympathy with the snobbish

parents, whose servility to a title was so apparent; but the
daughter seemed to be an innocent and amiable creature, however

silly, and we determined to spare her the shame of an open scandal.
If our scheme should seem a little melodramatic, it must not be

forgotten that my friend was an author. The next morning, as the
Baron came up the terrace after his visit to the spring, I stepped

forward and greeted him politely, after which I said: "I see by
the strangers' list that you are from East Prussia, Baron; have you

ever been in Poland?" At that moment, a voice behind him called
out rather sharply, "Jean!" The Baron started, turned round and

then back to me, and all his art could not prevent the blood from
rushing to his face. I made, as if by accident, a gesture with my

hand, indicating success, and went a step further.
"Because," said I, "I am thinking of making a visit to Cracow

and Warsaw, and should be glad of any information--"
"Certainly!" he interrupted me, "and I should be very glad to give

it, if I had ever visited Poland."
"At least," I continued, "you can advise me upon one point; but

excuse me, shall we not sit down a moment yonder? As my question
relates to money, I should not wish to be overheard."

I pointed out a retired spot, just before reaching which we were
joined by my friend, who suddenly stepped out from behind a clump

of lilacs. The Baron and he saluted each other.
"Now," said I to the former, "I can ask your advice, Mr. Johann

Helm!"
He was not an adept, after all. His astonishment and confusion

were brief, to be sure, but they betrayed him so completely that
his after-impulse to assume a haughty, offensive air only made us

smile.
"If I had a message to you from Otto Lindenschmidt, what then?" I

asked.
He turned pale, and presently stammered out, "He--he is dead!"

"Now," said my friend, "it is quite time to drop the mask before
us. You see we know you, and we know your history. Not from Otto

Lindenschmidt alone; Count Ladislas Kasincsky--"
"What! Has he come back from Siberia?" exclaimed Johann Helm. His

face expressed abjectterror; I think he would have fallen upon his
knees before us if he had not somehow felt, by a rascal's

instinct, that we had no personal wrongs to redress in unmasking
him.

Our object, however, was to ascertain through him the complete
facts of Otto Lindenschmidt's history, and then to banish him from

Liebenstein. We allowed him to suppose for awhile that we were
acting under the authority of persons concerned, in order to make

the best possible use of his demoralized mood, for we knew it would
not last long.

My guesses were very nearly correct. Otto Lindenschmidt had been
educated by an old Baron, Bernhard von Herisau, on account of his

resemblance in person to a dead son, whose name had also been Otto.
He could not have adopted the plebeian youth, at least to the

extent of giving him an old and haughty name, but this the latter
nevertheless expected, up to the time of the Baron's death. He had

inherited a little property from his benefactor, but soon ran
through it. "He was a light-headed fellow," said Johann Helm, "but

he knew how to get the confidence of the old Junkers. If he
hadn't been so cowardly and fidgety, he might have made himself a

career."
The Polish episode differed so little from my interpretation that

I need not repeat Helm's version. He denied having stolen Otto's
share of the money, but could not help admitting his possession of

the Von Herisau papers, among which were the certificates of birth
and baptism of the old Baron's son, Otto. It seems that he

had been fearful of Lindenschmidt's return from America, for
he managed to communicate with his sister in Breslau, and in this

way learned the former's death. Not until then had he dared to
assume his present disguise.

We let him go, after exacting a solemnpledge that he would betake
himself at once to Hamburg, and there ship for Australia. (I

judged that America was already amply supplied with individuals of
his class.) The sudden departure of the Baron von Herisau was a

two days' wonder at Liebenstein; but besides ourselves, only the
Bremen banker knew the secret. He also left, two days afterwards,

with his wife and daughter--their cases, it was reported, requiring