"I have been on a fool's errand," urbanely.

"And who sent you?"

"The god of fools himself, I guess. I am looking for a kind of ghost, a
specter in black that leaves the palace early in the evening and returns
late, whose destination has invariably been forty Krumerweg."

The vintner started.

"My house?" cried Gretchen.

"Yours? Perhaps you can dispel this phantom?" said Carmichael.

Gretchen was silent.

"Oh! You know something. Who is she?"

"A lady who comes on a charitable errand. But now she will come no
more."

"And why not?"

"The object of her visits is gone," Gretchen answered sadly.

"My luck!" exclaimed Carmichael ruefully.

"I am always building houses of cards. I don't suppose I shall ever
reform."

"Are you not afraid to walk about in this part of the town so late?" put
in the vintner, who was impatient to be gone.

"Afraid? Of what? Thieves? Bah, my little man, I carry a sword-stick,
and moreover I know how to use it tolerably well. Good night." And he
swung along easily, whistling an air from _The Barber of Seville_.

The insolence in Carmichael's tone set the vintner's ears a-burning, but
he swallowed his wrath.

"I like him," Gretchen declared, as she stopped before the house.

"Why?" jealously.

"Because he is always like that; pleasant, never ruffled, kindly. He
will make a good husband to some woman."

The vintner shrugged. He was not patient to-night.

"Who is this mysterious woman?"

"I am not free to tell you."

"Oh!"

"Leopold, what is the matter with you to-night? You act like a boy."

"Perhaps the police muddle is to blame. Besides, every time I see this
man Carmichael I feel like a baited dog."

"In Heaven's name, why?"

"Nothing that I can remember. But I have asked you a question."

"And I have declined to answer that question. All my secrets are yours,
but this one is another's."

"Is it her highness?"

Gretchen fingered the latch suggestively.

"I am wrong, Gretchen; you are right. Kiss me!"

She liked the tone; she liked the kisses, too, though they hurt.

"Good night, my man!" she whispered.

"Good night, my woman! To-morrow night at eight."

He turned and ran lightly and swiftly up the street. Gretchen remained
standing in the doorway till she could see him no more. Why should he
run like that? She raised the latch and went inside.

From the opposite doorway a mountaineer, a carter, a butcher, and a
baker stepped cautiously forth.

"He