ft the room. Lizzie ran after her to ask if
anything was the matter, but she said no, it was nothing of importance.
After dinner, she went right out, saying she was doing some errands.
She brought in a lot of newspapers, which was quite unusual, for she
sometimes does not look at a newspaper once a week even. I wouldn't have
noticed it but Lizzie's the kind that sees and hears everything and
she told us about it." Franz stopped to take a drink, and Muller said
indifferently, "I suppose Mrs. Bernauer was interested in the murder
case. The whole neighbourhood seems to be aroused about it."

"No, I don't think that was it," answered the old servant, "because then
she would have sent for a paper this morning too."

"And she didn't do that?"

"No, unless she might have gone out for it herself. There's a news stand
right next door here. But I don't think she did because I would have
seen the paper around the house then."

"And is that all that's the matter with her?" asked Muller in a tone of
disappointment. "Why, I thought you'd have something really interesting
to tell me."

"Oh, no, that isn't all, sir," exclaimed the old man eagerly.

Muller leaned forward, really interested now, while Franz continued:
"She was uneasy all the afternoon yesterday. She walked up and down
stairs and through the halls--I remember Lizzie making some joke about
it--and then in the evening to our surprise she suddenly began a great
rummaging in the first story."

"Is that where she lives?"

"Oh, no; her room is in the wing out towards the garden. The rooms on
the first floor all belong to the master and mistress. This morning we
found out that Mrs. Bernauer's cleaning up of the evening before had
been done because she remembered that the master wanted to take some
papers with him but couldn't find them and had asked her to look for
them and send them right on."

"Well, I shouldn't call that a sign of any particular nervousness, but
rather an evidence of Mrs. Bernaner's devotion to her duty."

"Oh, yes, sir--but it certainly is queer that she should go into
the garden at four o'clock this morning and appear to be looking for
something along the paths and under the bushes. Even if a few of the
papers blew out of the window, or blew away from the summer house, where
the master writes sometimes, they couldn't have scattered all over the
garden like that."

Muller didn't follow up this subject any longer. There might come a
time when he