"Stop here, this is your turn, down that street," Muller said a
few moments later, as the driver turned the other way.

"How do you know that?" asked the man, surprised.

"None of your business."

"This street will take us there just the same."

"Probably, but I prefer to go the way you went yesterday."

"Very well, it's all the same to me." They were silent again,
only the wind roared around them, and somewhere in the distance a
fog horn moaned.

It was now six o'clock. The snow threw out a mild light which could
not brighten the deep darkness around them. About half an hour
later the first cab halted. "There's the house up there. Shall I
drive to the garden gate?"

"No, stop here." Muller was already on the ground. "Are there any
dogs here?" he asked.

"I didn't hear any yesterday."

"That's of no value. You didn't seem to hear much of anything
yesterday." Muller opened the door of the cab and helped Berner
out. The old man was trembling. "That was a dreadful drive!"
he stammered.