"And the second time?"

Two or three days after his return."

"How long did he stay away the first time?"

"Only one day."

"Good! Pull yourself together now. I'll send your George in to
you and tell him you haven't been feeling well. Don't tell any
one about our conversation. Where is the kitchen?"

"The last door to the right down the hall."

The peddler left the room and Nanette sank down dazed and trembling
on the nearest chair. George found her still pale, but he seemed
to think it quite natural that she should have been overcome by the
recollection of the terrible death of her mistress. He gave the
old man a most cordial invitation to return during the next few days.
The cook brought the peddler a cup of steaming tea, and purchased
several trifles from him, before he left the house.

When the old man had reached a lonely spot on the road, about half
way between the hunting castle and the city, he halted, set down
his pack, divested himself of his beard and his wig and washed the
wrinkles from his face with a handful of snow from the wayside. A
quarter of an hour later, Detective Muller entered the railway
station of the city, burdened with a large grip. He took a seat
in the night express which rolled out from the station a few moments
later.