ouses in the Konigstrasse begin, as anybody familiar
with Strelsau will remember, at the end adjoining the station. The
street being a long one, intersecting almost the entire length of the
old town, I was, when I set out after Bauer, opposite number 300 or
thereabouts, and distant nearly three-quarters of a mile from that
important number nineteen, towards which Bauer was hurrying like a
rabbit to its burrow. I knew nothing and thought nothing of where he
was going; to me nineteen was no more than eighteen or twenty; my only
desire was to overtake him. I had no clear idea of what I meant to do
when I caught him, but I had some hazy notion of intimidating him into
giving up his secret by the threat of an accusation of theft. In fact,
he had stolen my bag. After him I went; and he knew that I was after
him. I saw him turn his face over his shoulder, and then bustle on
faster. Neither of us, pursued or pursuer, dared quite to run; as it
was, our eager strides and our carelessness of collisions created more
than enough attention. But I had one advantage. Most folk in Strelsau
knew me, and many got out of my way who were by no means inclined to pay
a like civility to Bauer. Thus I began to gain on him, in spite of his
haste; I had started fifty yards behind, but as we neared the end of the
street and saw the station ahead of us, not more than twenty separated
me from him. Then an annoying thing happened. I ran full into a stout
old gentleman; Bauer had run into him before, and he was standing, as
people will, staring in resentful astonishment at his first assailant's
retreating figure. The second collision immensely increased his
vexation; for me it had yet worse consequences; for when I disentangled
myself, Bauer was gone! There was not a sign of him; I looked up: the
number of the house above me was twenty-three; but the door was shut.
I walked on a few paces, past twenty-two, past twenty-one--and up to
nineteen. Nineteen was an old house, with a dirty, dilapidated front and
an air almost dissipated. It was a shop where provisions of the cheaper
sort were on view in the window, things that one has never eaten but has
heard of people eating. The shop-door stood open, but there was nothing
to connect Bauer with the house. Muttering an oath in my exasperation, I
was about to pass on, when an old woman put her head out of the door and
looked round. I was full in front of her. I am sure that the old woman
started slightly, and I