I poured him out a
glass of wine, and brought it over. He drank it slowly, and reached out
his hand for a cigarette.
"Never mind these things," he said more quietly. "A man in my condition
should avoid talking of his enemies. I lived for two years quietly in
Berlin. I changed as much of my appearance as illness had left
recognizable; and during all that time I lived the ordinary life of a
German citizen of moderate means, without my identity being once
suspected. I frequented the cafes, I made friends with people in official
positions. At the end of that time, I commenced to shape my plans. You
can imagine of what nature they were. You can imagine what it was that I
desired. I wanted to catch my enemy tripping."
I looked across at him a little incredulously. This was a strange story
which he was telling me, and I knew very well, from the growing
excitement of his manner, that its culmination was to come.
"But how could you in Berlin, alone, hope to accomplish this?" I asked.
"I knew the ropes," he answered simply, "and I lived for nothing else.
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