despots knew and kept to themselves. In a word--it was impregnable.
That such a place could not be trifled with or misunderstood in its
right-and-acute-angled severities seemed plain to every one. But set on
by his companions, who were showing him its defensive foundations, or
in his own idle curiosity, Karl managed to fall into the Rhine and was
fished out with difficulty. The immersion may have chilled his military
ardor or soured his good humor, for later the consul heard that he had
visited the American consular agent at an adjacent town with the old
story of his American citizenship. "He seemed," said the consul's
colleague, "to be well posted about American railways and American
towns, but he had no papers. He lounged around the office for a while
and"--
"Wrote letters home?" suggested the consul, with a flash of
reminiscence.
"Yes, the poor chap had no privacy at the barracks, and I reckon was
overlooked or bedeviled."
This was the last the consul heard of Karl Schwartz directly; for a
week or two later he again fell into the Rhine, this time so fatally and
effectually that in spite of the efforts of his companions he was swept
away by the rapid current, and thus ended his service to his country.
His body was never recovered.
A few months before the consul was transferred from Schlachtstadt to
another post his memory of the departed Karl was revived by a visit from
Adlerkreutz. The general looked grave.
"You remember Unser Karl?" he said.
"Yes."
"Do you think he was an impostor?"
"As regards his American citizenship, yes! But I could not say more."
"So!" said the general. "A very singular thing has happened," he added,
twirling his mustache. "The Inspector of police has notified us of the
arrival of a Karl Schwartz in this town. It appears he is the REAL Karl
Schwartz, identified by his sister as the only one. The other, who was
drowned, was an impostor. Hein?"
"Then you have secured another recruit?" said the consul smilingly.
"No. For this one has already served his time in Elsass, where he went
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