little village spread out on one side of the castle, and over the
railway station, its most imposing building. Then they would turn
back again to the entrance gate in the wall near where he stood.
It was a heavy iron-barred gate, its handsome ornamentation outlined
in snow, and behind it the body of a large dog could be occasionally
seen. This dog was an enormous grey Ulmer hound.

The peddler stood for a long time motionless behind the pillar, then
he looked at his watch. "It's nearly time," he murmured, and looked
over towards the station again, where lights and figures were
gathering.

At the same time the noise of an opening door was heard, and steps
creaked over the snow. A man, evidently a servant, opened the
little door beside the great gate and held it for another man to
pass out. "You'll come back by the night train as usual, sir?"
he asked respectfully.

"Yes," replied the other, pushing back the dog, which fawned upon
him.

"Come back here, Tristan," called the servant, pulling the dog in
by his collar, as lie closed the door and re-entered the house.

The Councillor took the path to the station. He walked slowly,
with bowed head and uneven step. He did not look like a man who
was in the mood to join a merry crowd, and yet he was evidently
going to his Club. "He wants to show himself; he doesn't want to
let people think that he has anything to be afraid of," murmured
the peddler, looking after him sharply. Then his eyes suddenly