noyed. "Hm, if he
doesn't come home at all, I can't give him a hot bottle at night or hot
milk in the morning."

"What--does not come home at all?" Kate thought she could
not have understood aright. She stared at the woman. "Does not come
home at all?"

The woman nodded: "I can tell you, ma'am, it's no joke letting
furnished rooms, you have to put up with a good deal. Such a young
gentleman--oh my!" She laughed half-angrily, half-amused. "I once had
one who remained away eight days--it was about the first of the month.
I was terrified about my rent--I had to go to the police."

"Where was he then? Where was he then?" Kate's voice quivered.

The woman laughed. "Well, then he turned up again." She saw the
mother's terror, and her good-nature gained the victory over her
malice. "He'll be sure to come again, ma'am," she said consolingly.
"They all come again. Don't fear. And Herr Schlieben has only been two
days away as yet."

Two days away--two days? It was two days since he had written, in
reply to her letter, that he had a cold and must remain at home. Kate
gazed around her as though she had lost her senses, her eyes looked
quite dazed. Where had he been the whole of those two days? Not there
and not at home--oh, he had not been to see her for a whole week. But
he must have been at the office or Paul would have mentioned it. But
where was he all the rest of the time? That was only a couple of hours.
And a day is long. And the nights, the nights! Good God, the nights,
where was he during the nights?

Kate would have liked to have screamed aloud, but the landlady was
watching her with such inquisitive eyes, that she pressed the nails of
one hand into the palm of the other and controlled herself. But her
voice was nothing but a whisper now: "Hasn't he been here at all for
the last two days?"

"No, not at all. But wait a moment." Her love of a gossip
was stronger than the reserve she had meant to show. Drawing near to
the lady who had sunk down in a chair, and dragging a chair forward for
herself, she began to chatter to her, giving her all the details: "It
was Sunday--no, Saturday that I began to notice there was something the
matter with him. Ay, he's one of the dashing sort. He was quite
mad."

"What do you mean? 'Mad' do you say?"

The landlady laughed. "Oh, I don't mean in that way at all, you
mustn't take it so literally, ma'am. Well, he was--well, what am I to
call it?--well, as they all are. Well, and in