“But a fifteen days’ permit!” I said.  “What am I to do at the end of that time?”

“Leave it to me,” Kore said craftily.  “I will get it renewed for you.  It will be all right!”

“But in the meantime....”  I objected.

“I place you as waiter with a friend of mine who is kind to poor fellows like yourself.  Your brother was with him.”

“But I want to be free to move around.”

“Impossible,” the Jew answered firmly.  “You must get into your part and live quietly in seclusion until the enquiries after you have abated.  Then we may see as to what is next to be done.  There you are, a fine set of papers and a safe, comfortable life far away from the trenches—­all snug and secure—­cheap (in spite of the danger to me), because you are a lad of spirit and I liked your brother ... ten thousand marks!”

I breathed again.  Once we had reached the haggling stage, I knew the papers would be mine all right.  With Semlin’s money and my own I found I had about L550, but I had no intention of paying out L500 straight away.  So I beat the fellow down unmercifully and finally secured the lot for 3600 marks—­L180.

But, even after I had paid the fellow his money, I was not done with him.  He had his eye on his perquisites.

“Your clothes will never do,” he said; “such richness of apparel, such fine stuff—­we must give you others.”  He rang the bell.

The old man-servant appeared.

“A waiter’s suit—­for the Linien-Strasse!” he said.

Then he led me into a bedroom where a worn suit of German shoddy was spread out on a sofa.  He made me change into it, and then handed me a threadbare green overcoat and a greasy green felt hat.

“So!” he said.  “Now, if you don’t shave for a day or two, you will look the part to the life!”—­a remark which, while encouraging, was hardly complimentary.

He gave me a muffler to tie round my neck and lower part of my face and, with that greasy hat pulled down over my eyes and in those worn and shrunken clothes, I must say I looked a pretty villainous person, the very antithesis of the sleek, well-dressed young fellow that had entered the flat half an hour before.

“Now, Julius,” said Kore humorously, “come, my lad, and we will seek out together the good situation I have found for you.”

A horse-cab was at the door and we entered it together.  The Jew chatted pleasantly as we rattled through the darkness.  He complimented me on my ready wit in deciphering Francis’ message.

“How do you like my idea?” he said, “’Achilles in his Tent’... that is the device of the hidden part of my business—­you observe the parallel, do you not?’ Achilles holding himself aloof from the army and young men like yourself who prefer the gentle pursuits of peace to the sterner profession of war!  Clients of mine who have enjoyed a classical education have thought very highly of the humour of my device.”