king at me with a provoking smile.

The train was rumbling slowly along, the night darkening down. We sat by
an open window, and I looked through it at the gray, Dutch-like
landscape, the falling dusk, the poplars that seemed sedately marching
along with us.

"Why do you want to know how much?" he demanded.

"Because I shall want to pay you, of course, when I get my purse," said
I. "And if you will kindly tell me your address, too--but how much money
did you spend?"

He looked at me, seemed about to laugh off the question, and then said:

"I believe it was about three thalers ten groschen, but I am not at all
sure. I can not tell till I do my accounts."

"Oh, dear!" said I.

"Suppose I let you know how much it was," he went on, with a gravity
which forced conviction upon me.

"Perhaps that would be the best," I agreed. "But I hope you will make
out your accounts soon."

"Oh, very soon. And where shall I send my bill to?"

Feeling as if there were something not quite as it should be in the
whole proceeding, I looked very earnestly at him, but could find nothing
but the most perfect gravity in his expression. I repeated my address
and name slowly and distinctly, as befitted so business-like a
transaction, and he wrote them down in a little book.

"And you will not forget," said I, "to give me your address when you let
me know what I owe you."

"Certainly--when I let you know what you owe me," he replied, putting
the little book into his pocket again.

"I wonder if any one will come to meet me," I speculated, my mind more
at ease in consequence of the business-like demeanor of my companion.

"Possibly," said he, with an ambiguous half smile, which I did not
understand.

"Miss Hallam--the lady I came with--is almost blind. Her maid had to
look after her, and I suppose that is why they did not wait for me,"
said I.

"It must have been a very strong reason, at any rate," he said, gravely.

Now the train rolled into the Elberthal station. There were lights,
movement, a storm of people all gabbling away in a foreign tongue. I
looked out. No face of any one I knew. Courvoisier sprung down and
helped me out.

"Now I will put you into a drosky," said he, leading the way to where
they stood outside the station.

"Alleestrasse, thirty-nine," he said to the man.

"Stop one moment," cried I, leaning eagerly out. At that moment a tall,
dark girl passed us, going slowly toward the gates. She almost paused as
s