well enough to take the journey) to send Mr.
Engelman to London. Where is Mr. Engelman? How is it that I have neither
heard nor seen anything of him?"

This was a delicate and difficult question to answer--at least, to my way
of thinking. There was little prospect of keeping the poor old
gentleman's sad secret. It was known to Fritz and Minna, as well as to
Mr. Keller. Still, I felt an unconquerable reluctance to be the first
person who revealed the disaster that had befallen him.

"Mr. Engelman is not in good health and spirits," I said. "He has gone
away for a little rest and change."

My aunt looked astonished.

"Both the partners ill!" she exclaimed. "I remember Mr. Engelman, in the
days when I was first married. He used to boast of never having had a
day's illness in his life. Not at all a clever man--but good as gold, and
a far more sensitive person than most people gave him credit for being.
He promised to be fat as years grew on him. Has he kept his promise? What
is the matter with him?"

I hesitated. My aunt eyed me sharply, and put another question before I
had quite made up my mind what to say.

"If you can't tell me what is the matter with him, can you tell me where
he is? I may want to write to him."

I hesitated again. Mr. Engelman's address had been confidentially
communicated to me, for reasons which I was bound to respect. "I am
afraid I can't answer that question either," I said awkwardly enough.

"Good heavens!" cried my aunt, "what does all this mystery mean? Has Mr.
Engelman killed a man in a duel? or run away with an opera-dancer? or
squandered the whole profits of the business at the gambling-table? or
what? As she put these bold views of the case, we heard voices outside,
followed by a gentle knock at the door. Minna entered the room with a
message.

"Mamma has sent me, Mrs. Wagner, to ask at what time you would like to
dine."

"My dear, I am much obliged to your mother. I have only just breakfasted,
and I can wait quite well till supper-time comes. Stop a minute! Here is
my nephew driving me to the utmost verge of human endurance, by making a
mystery of Mr. Engelman's absence from Frankfort. Should I be very
indiscreet if I asked--Good gracious, how the girl blushes! You are
evidently in the secret too, Miss Minna. _Is_ it an opera-dancer? Leave
us together, David."

This made Minna's position simply unendurable. She looked at me
appealingly. I did at last, what I ought to have don