The Councillor took the path to the station. He walked slowly， with bowed head and uneven step. He did not look like a man who was in the mood to join a merry crowd， and yet he was evidently going to his Club. "He wants to show himself； he doesn't want to let people think that he has anything to be afraid of，" murmured the peddler， looking after him sharply. Then his eyes suddenly dimmed and a light sigh was heard， with another murmur， "Poor man." The Councillor reached the station and disappeared within its door. The train arrived and departed a few moments later. Kniepp must have really gone to the city， for although the man behind the pillar waited for some little time， the Councillor did not return - a contingency that the peddler had not deemed improbable.

　　About half an hour after the departure of the train the watcher came out of his hiding place and walked noisily past the gate. What he expected， happened. The dog rushed up to the bars， barking loudly， but when the peddler had taken a silk muffler from the pack on his back and held it out to the animal， the noise ceased and the dog's anger turned to friendliness. Tristan was quite gentle， put his huge head up to the bars to let the stranger pat it， and seemed not at all alarmed when the latter rang the bell.

　　The young man who had opened the door for the Councillor came out from a wing of the castle. The peddler looked so frozen and yet so venerable that the youth had not the heart to turn him away. Possibly he was glad of a little diversion for his own sake.

　　"Who do you want to see？" he asked.

　　"I want to speak to the maid， the one who attended your dead mistress."

　　"Oh， then you know -？"

　　"I know of the misfortune that has happened here."

　　"And you think that Nanette might have something to sell to you？"

　　"Yes， that's it； that's why I came. For I don't suppose there's much chance for any business with my cigar holders and other trifles here so near the city."

　　"Cigar holders？ Why， I don't know； perhaps we can make a trade. Come in with me. Why， just see how gentle the dog is with you！"

　　"Isn't he that way with everybody？ I supposed he was no watchdog."

　　"Oh， indeed he is. He usually won't allow anybody to touch him， except those whom he knows well. I'm astonished that he lets you come to the house at all."

　　They had reached the door by this time. The peddler laid his hand on the servant's arm and halted a moment. "Where was it that she threw herself out？"

　　"From the last window upstairs there."

　　"And did it kill her at once？"

　　"Yes. Anyway she was unconscious when we came down."

　　"Was the master at home？"

　　"Why， yes， it happened in the middle of the night."

　　"She had a fever， didn't she？ Had she been ill long？"

　　"No. She was in bed that day， but we thought it was nothing of importance."

　　"These fevers come on quickly sometimes，" remarked the old man wisely， and added： "This case interests the entire neighbourhood and I will show you that I can be grateful for anything you may tell me - of course， only what a faithful servant could tell. It will interest my customers very much."

　　"You know all there is to know，" said the valet， evidently disappointed that he had nothing to tell which could win the peddler's gratitude. "There are no secrets about it. Everybody knows that they were a very happy couple， and even if there was a little talk between them on that day， why it was pure accident and had nothing to do with the mistress' excitement."

　　"Then there was a quarrel between them？"

　　"Are people talking about it？"

　　"I've heard some things said. They even say that this quarrel was the reason for - her death."

　　"It's stupid nonsense！" exclaimed the servant. The old peddler seemed to like the young man's honest indignation.

　　While they were talking， they had passed through a long corridor and the young man laid his hand on one of the doors as the peddler asked， "Can I see Miss Nanette alone？"

　　"Alone？ Oho， she's engaged to me！"

　　"I know that，" said the stranger， who seemed to be initiated into all the doings of this household. "And I am an old man - all I meant was that I would rather not have any of the other servants about."

　　"I'll keep the cook out of the way if you want me to."

　　"That would be a good idea. It isn't easy to talk， business before others，" remarked the old man as they entered the room. It was a comfortably furnished and cozily warm apartment. Only two people were there， an old woman and a pretty young girl， who both looked up in astonishment as the men came in.

　　"Who's this you're bringing in， George？" asked Nanette.

　　"He's a peddler and he's got some trifles here you might like to look at."

　　"Why， yes， you wanted a thimble， didn't you， Lena？" asked Nanette， and the cook beckoned to the peddler. "Let's see what you've got there，" she said in a friendly tone. The old man pulled out his wares from his pack； thimbles and scissors， coloured ribbons， silks， brushes and combs， and many other trifles. When the women had made their several selections they noticed that the old man was shivering with the cold， as he leaned against the stove. Their sympathies were aroused in a moment. "Why don't you sit down？" asked Nanette， pushing a chair towards him， and Lena rose to get him something warm from the kitchen.

　　The peddler threw a look at George， who nodded in answer. "He said he'd like to see the things they gave you after Mrs. Kniepp's death，" the young man remarked