"Do you buy things like that？" Nanette turned to the peddler.

　　"I'd just like to look at them first， if you'll let me."

　　"I'd be glad to get rid of them. But I won't go upstairs， I'm afraid there."

　　"Well， I'll get the things for you if you want me to，" offered George and turned to leave the room. The door had scarcely closed behind him when a change came over the peddler. His old head rose from its drooping position， his bowed figure started up with youthful elasticity.

　　"Are you really fond of him？" he asked of the astonished Nanette， who stepped back a pace， stammering in answer： "Yes. Why do you ask？ and who are you？"

　　"Never mind that， my dear child， but just answer the questions I have to ask， and answer truthfully， or it might occur to me to let your George know that he is not the first man you have loved."

　　"What do you know？" she breathed in alarm.

　　The peddler laughed. "Oho， then he's jealous！ All the better for me - the Councillor was jealous too， wasn't he？" Nanette looked at him in horror.

　　"The truth， therefore， you must tell me the truth， and get the others away， so I can speak to you alone. You must do this - or else I'll tell George about the handsome carpenter in Church street， or about Franz Schmid， or - "

　　"For God's sake， stop - stop - I'll do anything you say."

　　The girl sank back on her chair pale and trembling， while the peddler resumed his pose of a tired old man leaning against the stove. When George returned with a large basket， Nanette had calmed herself sufficiently to go about the unpacking of the articles in the hamper.

　　"George， won't you please keep Lena out in the kitchen. Ask her to make some tea for us，" asked Nanette with well feigned assurance. George smiled a meaning smile and disappeared.

　　"I am particularly interested in the dead lady's gloves，" said the peddler when they were alone again.

　　Nanette looked at him in surprise but was still too frightened to offer any remarks. She opened several boxes and packages and laid a number of pairs of gloves on the table. The old man looked through them， turning them over carefully. Then he shook his head： "There must be some more somewhere，" he said. Nanette was no longer astonished at anything he might say or do， so she obediently went through the basket again and found a little box in which were several pair of grey suede gloves， fastened by bluish mother-of-pearl buttons. One of the pairs had been worn， and a button was missing.

　　"These are the ones I was looking for，" said the peddler， putting the gloves in his pocket. Then he continued： "Your mistress was rather fond of taking long walks by herself， wasn't she？"

　　The girl's pale face flushed hotly and she stammered： "You know - about it？"

　　"You know about it also， I see. And did you know everything？"

　　"Yes， everything，" murmured Nanette.

　　"Then it was you and Tristan who accompanied the lady on her walks？"

　　"Yes."

　　"I supposed she must have taken some one into her confidence. Well， and what do you think about the murder？"

　　"The Professor？" replied Nanette hastily. "Why， what should I know about it？"

　　"The Councillor was greatly excited and very unhappy when he discovered this affair， I suppose？"

　　"He is still."

　　"And how did he act after the - let us call it the accident？"

　　"He was like a crazy man."

　　"They tell me that he went about his duties just the same - that he went away on business."

　　"It wasn't business this time， at least not professional business. But before that he did have to go away frequently for weeks at a time."

　　"And it was then that your mistress was most interested in her lonely walks， eh？"

　　"Yes." Nanette's voice was so low as to be scarcely heard.

　　"Well， and this time？" continued the peddler. "Why did he go away this time？"

　　"He went to the capital on private business of his own."

　　"Are you sure of that？"

　　"Quite sure. He went two different times. I thought it was because he couldn't stand it here and wanted to see something different. He went to his club this evening， too."

　　"And when did he go away？"

　　"The first time was the day after his wife was buried."

　　"And the second time？"

　　Two or three days after his return."

　　"How long did he stay away the first time？"

　　"Only one day."

　　"Good！ Pull yourself together now. I'll send your George in to you and tell him you haven't been feeling well. Don't tell any one about our conversation. Where is the kitchen？"

　　"The last door to the right down the hall."

　　The peddler left the room and Nanette sank down dazed and trembling on the nearest chair. George found her still pale， but he seemed to think it quite natural that she should have been overcome by the recollection of the terrible death of her mistress. He gave the old man a most cordial invitation to return during the next few days. The cook brought the peddler a cup of steaming tea， and purchased several trifles from him， before he left the house.