"You must be mistaken, mein herr," he whined abjectly. "She cannot be
there. She--Ah, I have it! It may have been my wife. Gretel! Have you
been in the east--"

"Nonsense!" I cried sharply. "This won't do, Mr. Schmick. Give me that
bunch of keys. We'll investigate. I can't have strange women
gallivanting about the place as if they owned it. This is no trysting
place for Juliets, Herr Schmick. We'll get to the bottom of this at
once. Here, you Rudolph, fetch a couple of lanterns. Max, get a sledge
or two from the forge. There _is_ a forge. I saw it yesterday out there
back of the stables. So don't try to tell me there isn't one. If we
can't unlock the doors, we'll smash 'em in. They're mine, and I'll knock
'em to smithereens if I feel like it."

The four Schmicks wrung their hands and shook their heads and, then,
repairing to the scullery, growled and grumbled for fully ten minutes
before deciding to obey my commands. In the meantime, I related my
experience to Poopendyke and Britton.

"That reminds me, sir," said Britton, "that I found a rag-doll in the
courtyard yesterday, on that side of the building, sir--I should say
castle, sir."

"I am quite sure I heard a baby crying the second night we were here,
Mr. Smart," said my secretary nervously.

"And there was smoke coming from one of the back chimney pots this
morning," added Britton.

I was thoughtful for a moment. "What became of the rag-doll, Britton?"