and you can have the hearth and the tobacco
to yourself."

"Good night," said I.

Yes, I wanted to be alone. But I did not smoke. I sat and stared into
the flickering flames in the grate. I had lost Gretchen. . . . To
hold a woman in your arms, the woman you love, to kiss her lips, and
then to lose her! Oh, I knew that she loved me, but she was a
Princess, and her word was given, and it could not be. The wind sang
mournfully over the sills of the window; thick snow whitened the panes;
there was a humming in the chimneys. . . . She was jealous of Phyllis;
that was why I knew that she loved me. . . . And the subtle change in
Phyllis's demeanor towards me; what did it signify? . . . Gretchen was
to be married Thursday because there were no proofs that Phyllis was
her sister. . . . What if Gretchen had been Phyllis, and Phyllis had
been Gretchen. . . . Heigho! I threw some more coals on the fire.
The candle sank in the socket. There are some things we men cannot
understand; the sea, the heavens and woman. . . . Suddenly I brought
both hands down on my knees. The innkeeper! The innkeeper! He knew!
In a moment I was rummaging through the stack of time tables. The next
south-bound train left at 3:20. I looked at the clock; 2:20. My dress
suit began to fly around on various chairs. Yes; how simple it was!
The innkeeper knew; he had known it all these years. I threw my white
cravat onto the table and picked up the most convenient tie. In ten
minutes from the time the idea came to me I was completely dressed in
traveling garments. I had a day and a half. It would take twenty
hours to fetch the innkeeper. I refused to entertain the possibility
of not finding him at the inn. I swore to heaven that the nuptials of
the Princess Hildegarde of Hohenphalia and the Prince Ernst of
Wortumborg should not be celebrated at noon, Thursday. I went into the
bedroom.

"Pembroke?"

"What is it?" came drowsily.

"I am going on a journey."

"One of those cursed orders you get every other day?" he asked.

"No. It's one on my own account this time. I shall be back in
twenty-four hours. Goodby!" And I left him there, blinking in the dim
light of the candle.

I rushed into the street and looked up and down it. Not a vehicle in
sight. I must run for it. The railway station was a long way off. A
fine snow pelted my face. I stopped at the first lamp and pulled out
my watch. It was twenty minutes to three.