He
knew something about police methods; they were by no means all through
with him. Ah! A patch of white paper, just inside the door, caught his
eye. He fetched it to the candle. What he read forced the color from his
cheeks and his hands were touched with transient palsy.
"The devil! What shall I do now?" he muttered, thoroughly dismayed.
What indeed should he do? Which way should he move? How long had _he_
been in Dreiberg? Ah, that would be rich! What a joke! It would afford
him a smile in his old age. Carmichael, Carmichael! The vintner chuckled
softly as he scribbled this note:
"If Herr Carmichael would learn the secret of number forty
Krumerweg, let him attire himself as a vintner and be in the
Krumerweg at eight o'clock to-night."
"So there is a trap, and I am to beware of a mountaineer, a carter, a
butcher, and a baker? Thanks, Scharfenstein, my friend, thanks! You are
watching over me."
He blew out his candle and went to bed.
CHAPTER XIII
A DAY DREAM
Colonel Von Wallenstein curled his mustaches. It was a happy thought
that had taken him into the Adlergasse. This Gretchen had been haunting
his dreams, and here she was, coming into his very arms, as it were. The
sidewalk was narrow. Gretchen, casually noting that an officer stood in
the way, sensibly veered into the road.
Pages:
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175