He was finally convinced, by the regularity of the line on
the printed side as compared with the irregularity of the line on the
advertising side, that the vintner had lied. And yet there was no proof
that he had.
"This young fellow will go far," he mused, with reluctant admiration.
On reaching the street Gretchen gave rein to her laughter. What promised
to be a tragedy was only a farce. The vintner laughed, too, but Momus
would have criticized his laughter.
The night was not done yet; there were still some more surprises in
store for the vintner. As they turned into the Krumerweg they almost ran
into Carmichael. What was the American consul doing in this part of the
town, so near midnight? Carmichael recognized them both. He lifted his
hat, but the vintner cavalierly refused to respond.
"Herr Carmichael!" said Gretchen. "And what are you doing here this time
of the night?"
"I have been on a fool's errand," urbanely.
"And who sent you?"
"The god of fools himself, I guess. I am looking for a kind of ghost, a
specter in black that leaves the palace early in the evening and returns
late, whose destination has invariably been forty Krumerweg."
The vintner started.
"My house?" cried Gretchen.
"Yours? Perhaps you can dispel this phantom?" said Carmichael.
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