WOOING A WIDOW.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XV, Issue XX, 16 November 1895, Page 623

WOOING A WIDOW.

BY

CHAPTER XVI. OUTWITTED. On the evening of the day on which .Sonnenberg had unmasked himself to Roland. Dora was in a state oi great excitement. She had received an anonymous letter, which informed her that a certain person was ready to furnish her with irrefutable proofs of Dornberg’s innocence, provided she was willing to pay for them. She was further advised to consult at once with her lawyer or her friends concerning the letter, and to send her answer by mail that same evening. The address was given in initials. The person in question would call at the postoffice the next morning lor the answer, and then immediately give further information, in case the sum of money offered in return was satisfactory. Of course, Dora resolved at once to show this letter to Doctor Kerner and tho colonel; Fannie and Herr Martin could also join in the consultation and, at my rate, a very liberal offer must be made to the anonymous writer. She did not mention the matter to her companion ; she had lost all confidence in her. The breach between the two had, indeed, been partially healed by a calm, serious explanation, owing, chiefly, to Ernestine’s falling in with Dora’sopinionof Sonnenberg; but the separation was still to take place. The companion was welcome to remain until she had found another situation, but she had to promise in return to hold no communication with Sonnenberg either personally or by letter. Ernestine, too, seemed to try to avoid anything which might displease her mistress, and thus she asked no questions as to Dora’s plans when the latter ordered the servant to go for a cab. ■ Katherine will have to go out,’ she said as Dora was putting on her bonnet before the glass. ‘ I should be glad if you would tell her so. she seems determined not to obey my orders any more.’ * W here has she to go ?' * I have written down all the errands so that nothing need bo forgotten,’ replied Ernestine, handing her a paper. ‘Oh, yes, that is all right,’ said Dora, looking over the list hastily. * I should have forgotten all about those things if you had not reminded me of them.’ ‘That is very natural, in view of all that you have on your mind just now.’ * Here, Katherine,’ said Frau Winkler, as the old servant entered the room, * you will have to do these errands this evening. Look over the list carefully so as not to forget anything.’ ‘ This evening ?’ said Katherine, sulkily, while she fixed a searching look on Ernestine, who was busy with her work. * There's a good deal to do and a long way to go, madam.’ ‘You can take the omnibus where it is too far to walk and I shall not return very early, either.’ With this Dora bade her companion goodbye and left the room, accompanied by Katherine. Ernestine laid down her work and sent a look full of hatred and spite after her mistress. She rose softly and then crept on tiptoe to the door, where she stood listening. She heard the carriage roll away. Katherine returned to the kitchen, and showed her ill-humour by the noisy way in which she bustled about there. Thue some time passed. Then the servant came out of the kitchen and along the hall. The door of the apartment was opened and closed again with a vehemence which made its glass doors rattle. Ernestine waited a few minutes. All was quiet outside. She opened the door and went out into the hall. A light was burning only in the latter. The ki'chen was dark. Neither the housekey nor that of the apartment was hanging in its accustomed place. This was the surest sign that Katherine had left the house. Ernestine bolted the apartment-door and returned to the drawing-room Drawing a deep breath, she set the lamp on a small table near the window. Sonnenberg had evidently been waiting for this signal outside, for only a few minutes passed before the bell rang softly. * All gone ?’ ho asked, in a low tone, as he entered the drawing room. * Would I have given you the signal if it were otherwise? VVe need not fear being disturbed for a couple of hours.’ ‘Let us go into this room.’aaid Sonnenberg, throwing back the portiere which led to Dora’s boudoir.

EWALD AUGUST KOENIG.

Ernestine took the lamp from the table and followed him silently. ‘ I suppose you wrote the letter that Dora received to night,' she eaid, after they had seated themselves. ‘ Yes, and I see it has fulfilled its purpose. Dora will now consult with her friends as to how it is to be answered.* ‘ Do you expect an answer ?’ ‘Of course ; but whatever it may be, it has no value for me. Where is the servant’’ * Dora sent her out on a round of errands. ’ ‘Can she not return as she did the other day, and make her appearance here suddenly ?’ ‘ 1 have bolted the hall door, which I had, unfortunately, forgotten to do on that occasion,’ replied Ernestine, «o confidently, that Sonnenberg evidently felt relieved. ‘ Very well,’ he said, ‘then we can talk freely. Is it true that Frau Winkler has discharged you ?' * True and not true. VVe had a violent scene this morning after you left; words were spoken which made it impossible for me to remain here. 1 hardly remember, now, which of us two first demanded a separation.’ ‘ Nor does it matter,’ said he. ‘ What, do you intend to do now’’ ‘The answer to that question is very easy: I shall look for another position.’ ‘ Are you not thinking of revenge ?' Ernestine’s grey eyes flashed. A bitter expression hovered about her tightly-closed lips. ‘I intend to revenge myself,’ he continued, in a hissing voice. ‘ And I should suppose that you would think likewise. If sho did not intend to fulfil my hopes, of which she wae perfectly well aware, it would have been very easy for her to give me a hint to that effect, and I should have been spared such a shameful defeat. What crime have I committed that she should reject my hand in so insulting a manner ?' ‘I think I can guess her motive,’ replied Ernestine, and her eyes rested searchingly upon her companion. * You said once that if you were to tell what you know Dornberg would be discharged at once. Dora knows that; indeed, I suspect that she thinks you are the one for whose crime her lover has been punished. She permitted your attentions merely so as to bo able to observe you.’ * She wae on a wrong track there,’ sneere l Sonenberg, with a contemptuous shrug. 'Frankly, I wish I had done that deed, for I should then be in possession of a sum which would make me a rich man for life.' ‘ Then it was not you ?’ * Did you think so, too ?' * Not at first. It was only after a while that I considered it possible.’ ‘ Ah. bah ! If it had only been possible I The scoundrel, who deed Dornberg has to suffer for anticipated me.’ ‘lf you know him—’ * Enough of that!’ he broke in roughly. * I am not yet sure whether I shall succeed in wresting a part of his booty from him. In any case, however, I must find some way of replenishing my empty purse. 1 cannot stay here any longer, nor can I tell how soon I may be able to gain a film foothold in any other city. I do not know, either, what will become of you. and whether we shall ever again meet with a favourable opportunity for operating in common ; so 1 am obliged to do something which will enable me to look forward, at least, to the nearest future without anxiety.’ *As for our operating in common, that, of course, depends upon chance circumstances,' said Ernestine, thoughtfully. * Still I shall do all I can to make it possible. I shall try fora situation in some oher place similar to the one I have filled here—’ ‘ And what that amounts to we have seen,’ he again interrupted her. ‘No, I shall no longer build my hopes on such contingencies, and I should like to save you from the humiliations to which you are daily exposed in such a position. I intend to go to Paris day after to-morrow. You might follow me soon; then we should remain together.’ ‘That would be delightful; but what should we live on in that case?’ * On that which we take from here.' She looked at him in silence for a few moments, then she shook her head dubiously, *1 think I understand you,' she said; ‘ but I doubt whether it can be done—it is too dangerous.’ ‘ Why ?’ he asked, coolly. * Because the first suspicion would natur ally fall on us two.’

‘For that reason we must take such precautions that there can be no idea of any suspicion against us.' ‘ But whatever preparation you may make—’ ' My plan is matured ; it will do away with your scruples. One question, however, first of all: What is to be got here?’ *1 don't know exactly, but I think it would be worth while, if—’ * Please leave the ifs out of the question. Does Dora manage her own business affairs ?’ •Yes.’ * And how is her property invested ?’ * In government bonds, mortgages, shares of various railroads and the like.’ * Has she a list of the numbers of those documents ?' 'The list is with the papers.’ ‘ And they ?’ * Are in an iron casket which is kept in yonder cabinet.’ Ernestine pointed to an elegant, daintily constructed cabinet, which stood beside the writing desk. Sonnenberg rose slowly and proceeded to examine it. * That lock can be broken without trouble,’ he said. ‘And what is the amount ?’ ‘That I cannot tell you either,’ replied Ernestine, with a startled look at the portierre, for it seemed to her as if she had heard a slight noise in the adjoining room. Ar any rate there is a very large sum. And that casket contains not only those papers, but also bank notes, rolls of gold and, among other jewellery, a very valuable set of diamonds. If we could get hold of all that, indeed we need not trouble ourselves about the future.’ Sonnenberg strode up and down the room a few times, and then eat down again. ‘ We should make sure of a life ef ease for us both, and at the same time revenge ourselves for the insults put upon us,’ said he. ‘ And even if suspicion should fall upon me 1 will take care that nothing cun te proved against me. To be sure, if I were to take the casket away with me now there is no doubt that we would both be arrested this evening. And it can’t be done in the night without running the risk of blood shed—’ * Not for the world I’ cried Ernestine, horrified. ‘I don't wish that either. It must be done by daylight. Let us say to morrow afternoon. There is but one thing that troubles me : how to dispose of the servant. Dora will receive another letter during the forenoon—a reply to the answer which I hope to find at the post office in the morning. I will write that I shall expect her at three o’clock, at a given place, in order to furnish her with proofs. That she is to bring none of her friends with her, but that if she wishes to have a witness 1 will permit her companion to be present at he interview. That if she comes in the company of any other person our meeting will not take place. Do you think she will submit to this condition ?' * Yes, I think so,' replied Ernestine, after some reflection. ‘She will submit to any condition, make any sacrifice, if tho possibility of proving Dornberg’s innocence is held out to her in return.’ * Very well ; then you and Dora would no be here to-morrow afternoon. The house door is open, any one can go in and out without being observed-—at least, I have never seen any inquisitive servants downstairs.’ •And yet, you might, accidently, meet one of the inmates of the house.’ *1 shall not be recognised ; a wig and a pair of spectacles can disguise a face completely. That matter gives me no anxiety. The main question for me is whether an how the servant can be kept out of the way without arousing suspicion.’ * When will your letter to Dora get here ?’ * A little after twelve, 1 think ; then there will be no time to consult her wise friends again, and she will be obliged to decide at once.’ * Very well, I will go out early to-morrow morning, and return before twelve. I will arrange matters so Katherine will have to be at a certain place at three o’clock, to get something for her mistress. I will manage it.’ * Are you sure you can ?’ ‘ Quite sure; I'll think over it this evening. You may depend upon it that the servant will not be in the house tomorrow at three o’clock.

'Then all the rest will be child’s play,’ said Sonnenberg. * The hall door will, of course not be bolted—’

• No, I will give you my key for it. But you must leave the key here when you go away, as I might be a*ked for it. You can put it under the sofa in the drawing room. I ahull look for it there and take it again. * • How about the key to thia cabinet ?’ • That I cannot get for you. Dora always han it about her. And I think it would be better for us if the lock were broken open. That will look more like the work of professional burglars. I hear there are many of them in town —’

• And I will take precautions which shall confirm such suspicions. I ehall leave behind me an old soiled cap and a torn cotton pocket handerchief, which could belong to no one but a vagabond. Under these circumstance, how should anybody suspect us? You were in Dora’s company while the deed was being done, and 1 received a call from Herr Boland at my rooms in the same house.’ • At the same hour ?’ • Well, it does not matter much whether the robbery took p’ace a few minutes sooner or later. Roland will confirm my declaration. if necessary.’ • But what if they should search your room after all ?’ ‘Then they would find neither the casket nor any of its contents ; that, too, 1 have guarded against. Before it enters any one’s head to undertake such a search, the casket, safely packed in a trunk, will be on its way to Paris, where I shall claim it in a few days,’ • And you intend to leave day after tomorrow ?’ ‘ Yes. 1 should be very glad if you could get me, before that time, a good wax impression of the key of the casket, then I can have a duplicate made from it in Bi ussels. ’ ‘Shall I see you again, then, before you go. ’ ‘Certainly! 1 shall come hereto take leave.’ • Would you dare do that?’ asked Ernestine, in astonishment. • I don’t see any risk in it. On the contrary, 1 shall demonstrate my innocence by doing so. And I shall show mysel greatly concerned at the bold robbery.* ‘ But I hardly think that Dora will re ceive you.’ ‘ I think she will.’ • Katherine has strict orders to tell you that her mistress is engaged.’ A mocking smile played around Sounenberg’s lips ; his eyes Hashed angrily. •Curiosity alone will prompt her to receive me, if I call after this robbery,’ he replied. 'She will wish to study the expression of my features, to read the confes sion of guilt in my face, and will, of course, find herself disappointed. But if she should deny herself to me, and you have obtained the wax impression, you will find some other way—’ ‘ Don't depend upon that,’ she answered. •I have had to give a solemn promise not to say another word to you. and you can imagine that if I break that promise it would direct suspicion to us at once.’ ‘ Well, 1 must leave it to you to act at circumstances make it seem best to you,’ Sonnenberg said, after reflection. • Unless I have the key, I shall be obliged to break open the casket, and the absence of a key might occasion me a great deal of trouble at tho custom house in Paris.’ ‘ If 1 can obtain the impression, I shall do so. But how about the letter whic*»i you are to write to Dora? Are you not afraid that your handwriting may be recognised? If she does not find the anonymous correspondent at the appointed place to morrow, and then discovers the robbery, she will guess at once that the writer of that letter enticed her from home in order to have an opportunity to do the deed.’ • No, she will not recognise my handwriting,’ replied Sonnenberg, confidently. • Let her think whatever she likes. Nothing can be proved against me, and that is the chief thing.’ ‘ You seem very sure of your case,’ said Ernestine. ‘ Because I know that 1 have reason to be so.’ • And when you get to Paris, will you write to ine ?

• Within a day or two after my arrival. But not to this ail dress, for it is better that Dora should know nothing about it. I will direct the letter to the post otiice, to be called for.' • Yes, that will be be«t. Of course I cannot tell her that I am going to follow you to Paris.’ ‘Then pick a quarrel with her and leave suddenly. She need not know where you are going.’

* I'll attend to that when we have once not eo far,' said Ernestine. ‘ But I have my doubts about our doing so.' * And what are they founded on ?’ * I hardly know myself. Your plan inspires me with confidence; but, nevertheless, it seems to me a very dangerous undertaking. And if it should end otherwise than you expect, all would be lost for you, Theodor ; not only for you now, but for the future.’ He had risen ; he walked up and down the room once, and then stopped before Dora’s writing desk. * All that is needed is courage,' he said ; * “ Nothing venture, nothing have I” And what if the affair should turn out badly, which is, however, hardly probab'e? Of course, I should have to disappear liom the scene for a few years; but—well ! You must see yourself that this starveling existence is not attractive. All my eliorts to end it by a rich marriage have proved vain, and now I must try some other way.’ •If it were only a less dangerous one I’ replied Ernestine, with a heavy sigh. * 1 should help you so much more gladly and look into the future with so much more courage.' ‘ Don’t give way to unnecessary fears; you have nothing to do with this enterprise ; if it fails, I alone shall bear the conseuences. Ono thing more : Can you let me know by some signal, to-morrow afternoon, when the coast is clear? It must be something which I can see from the street.’ * I can do so. The last window of this floor, toward the corner, is that of my bedroom ; notice to-morrow afternoon whether the curtains are down or whether they are pulled back; if the former is the case, you will find no one here.’

* Very well, that will do. It is a signal which can awaken no suspicion later on, because no one will notice it. I trust that you will succeed in getting the servant out of the way in some unsuspicious manner ; in that case 1 am not afraid of the result. And now I’ll go—we have considered everything sufficiently. If we should not meet again here 1 hope for a speedy and happy reunion in Paris.’ She held the hand which he extended to her in farewell firmly in her own. Her eyes, which were fixed upon hie features, seemed to be trying to fathom his most secret thoughts. ' Dora spoke again of that lady in grey whom we saw at the theatre,’ she said, in a subdued voice. ’I cannot get rid of the idea that she had a terrible suspicion, a suspicion which I dare not give words to.’ ‘Nonsense!’ he replied, shrugging bis shoulders ; but it did not escape her keen observation that, in spite of his apparent indifference, he had turned somewhat pale. • Did you really not know that lady ?' she asked.

* No,' he replied brusquely ; how often am 1 to tell you so ?' ‘Can nothing be done to prove that suspicion to be false?' • Why ? If I were to make such an attempt, would not that be just the way to direct suspicion toward myself ? And how does this allair concern me? I cannot control the thoughts of others, and I do not care about them, either.’

‘ Perhaps Dora would have accepted you, if that woman had not died so suddenly.’ * Pshaw, 1 know better than that I It is Dorn berg alone who stands between us. Dora will love him as long as she lives ; unfortunately, I realised that too late.’ They had gone into the hall, and Ernestine unbolted the door. ‘Think the matter over once more,' she whispered, ‘and if you are uot perfectly sure of your case, I advise you earnestly to give up your plan.’ ‘lf 1 were not perfectly sure, I should not have made the plan,’he answered, in the same tone. ‘Keep up your courage and, above all, do not lose your presence of mind to morrow when the robbery is discovered.’

With this he left the apartment, and Ernestine, without bolting the door again, returned to the drawing-room. It had been the highest time for Sonnenberg to leave, for, very soon after. Ernestine beard sounds tn the kitchen; Katherine had evidently come back. Dora did not return for some time yet. Faithful to the part which she had undertaken, Ernestine asked no questions, even now ; she was wailing until Dora should feel the need of giving words to that which was occupying her thoughts. Nor was she wrong in this expectation. During supper Dora told her about the anonymous letter, at the same time closely watching the expression of her features. Ernestine was perfectly aware of this, but she had no difficulty in carrying out her deception and concealing her thoughts. At first she appeared doubtful, and it was only when slio learned that Doctor Kerner had advised Frau Winkler to send an answer and oiler a suitable sum that she gave more attention to the contents ot the letter, and then her doubts and scruples seemed gradually to pa«s away

The answer was then written ami sent to the postoffice, after which nothing remained

but to wait patiently for further developments. Till late in the night Dora talked with her companion about the surmises to which that letter had given rise in her mind, without, however, mentioning any name. Ernestine now met all her wishes, and entered into all her hopes, and it almost seemed as if the old friendly relation between the two was regaining its footing. This was aleo indicated by the cordiality with which they bade each other goodnight when they separated at last, and even the next morning at breakfast the same warmth of manner was still kept up between them. Ernestine expressed the intention of going out immediately after breakfast., as she had to look about for another situation ; but although Dora remarked that there was no hurry about it, she did nothing to retain her companion and attach her to her person again. For the breach still existed and both seemed to feel that a separation was advisable. When Ernestine had left, Dora took out the anonymous letter once more to read it over again. If the writer really possessed the proofs which he olfered her, she could count- with tolerable certainty upon receiving them in the course of the day. And then Gustav would be discharged to morrow. What a triumph for her if, together with him, she could meet his enemies face to face, and prove to them that all their intrigues had been in vain. And how much greater and more brilliant would her triumph be if it should turn out that Doctor Kerner's suspicions were correct and that Roland himself had committed the robbery. Fannie and the colonel knew nothing of this letter as yet. The lawyer had requested her to leave it to him tn inform them of it; and, moreover, the time had been too short the night before. Lost in thought, Dora did not notice Katherine’s entrance until the harsh, grating voice of the latter roused her from her reverie. ‘Now we’ve got them both, ma’am,’ said the old woman, in a triumphant tone. ‘ You will be astonished when I tell you what I have heard.’ * Speak out, then,’ replied Dora, impatiently, well aware that Katherine never said a word unnecessarily nor asserted anything which she could not prove. ‘ There’s to be a burglary here to day !’ *A burglary? Here?’ asked Dora, in alarm. ‘ This afternoon at three o’clock,’ replied the servant, with an air which showed plainly how thoroughly conscious she was of her importance at that moment. * You will get a letter soon after twelve, ma’am, which will tell you of a place where you will be expected at three sharp. There the proofs will be given you which have been promised you, and you are to take Frau Hennig with you, and no one else. She will return belore you get the letter and convince you that I have to do some errands at three. So there will be no one here when the scoundrel comes.’ * But how have you learned all this ?’ asked Dora, in increasing dismay. * Well, I listened. He’s got possession of the hall door key already, and the curtain in Frau Hennig’s bedroom window is to serve as a signal that the coast is clear. * He? Who is he?’ * Herr Sonnenberg.’ Dora started from her seat; she bad to exercise great eeif control in order to suppress the expression ot indignation which hovered on her lips. * Ernestine implicated in the crime, too. The accomplice of that wretch I' she cried, with trembling voice. * What can their object be ?’ * They mean to carry of! the iron casket that is in that cabinet. Sonnenberg said the lock would be easy to pick, and the casket would be on the way to Faris before you discovered your loss. He is convinced that no suspicion will fall on him and Frau Hennig ; but if that should be the case, nothing will be found either on his person or at his rooms that could tell against him. And so as co make it appear that some vagabond had done the deed, he is going to leave an old cap and a torn pockethandkerchief here when he goes away. You eee it is all capitally arranged.’ Dora had measured the room several times with long steps while Katherine was talking. Now she stopped before the old servant, indignation depicted on every feature of her fair face. * How in the world did you manage to hear all this ?’ she asked, without doubting for a moment the truth of these communications.

* It was risky, ma’am,’ replied Katherine, tying and untying her apron-strings. *1 think they would have murdered me if they had discovered me in my hidingplace. I thought it strange last night that 1 had to go out at the same time with you. I guessed at once that Frau Hennig was expecting Sonnenberg again ; they might

have made an appointment in the morning. So I made up my mind that though you might be ever so vexed that 1 hadn’t obeyed your orders, I would not leave the house.

•I did not care whether Frau Hennig found me out or not, I didn’t mind her anger. So I pretended to go out of the hall-door, and then crept into your bedroom on my stocking-feet. If this meeting took place in the boudoir, I should be close by ; if they remained in the drawing-room 1 could steal into the boudoir and listen behind the portiere. I didn’t have to wait long before they came into the boudoir and sat down so near me that I could bear every word.* • And my companion did not notice anything?’ • She has no idea that I know all this.’ Dora went to the window and looked out thought fully. • I cannot understand such audacity,’ she -aid. * They must know that the first suspicion will fall upon them.’ ’For that reason they have taken care that nothing can be proved against them. Sonnenberg intends to leave to morrow. Frau Hennig is to follow him in a few days, and then they mean to lead a gay life in Paris.’ ’They will find themselves disappointed, I fear,’ said Dora, sarcastically. * But how can 1 manage ? If I were to tell Ernestine to her face what I have learned from you—’ • Then she would answer that it was all a lie. 1 tell you there’s no second woman as shrewd as she. She would deny everything and say 1 had slandered her, and we could not prove anything.’ • But we must do so,’ replied Dora, resolutely, and her eyes flashed with anger. ‘ Did they consult- only about the robbery ? Did they not speak ot Herr Doroberg?’ ’ Yes, and about the lady in grey, too.’ • And what did Sonnenberg say about her?' asked Dora, in eager expectation. • He declared he never knew her.’

* And about Herr Dornberg ?’ ‘ He said that if he were to speak out, Herr Dornberg would be discharged from prison at once.’

* Did he say that ?’ cried Dora, in agitation.

* He or Frau Hennig. Those were the words. He also said that he wished he had

stolen that money, for then he would be a rich man now.’

• Ah, that is enough,’ eaid her mistress, drawing a deep breath. ‘ They will make him tell tho name of the thief in court. What we want to do now, first of all, is to prove him guilty of this crime, eo as to make sure of his arrest. You will keep silent, do you hear ? If Ernestine returns before me you will tell her that I have gone to call on Fraulein Dornberg ; do not betray your secret by word or look.’ ‘1 don’t speak to Frau Hennig any more.’ • Do not appear too ill-natured, either ; that might arouse her suspicions, too. We must catch them in their own trap ; I don’t know yet how it is to be done, but when I return I probably ehall know, and then I shall find some opportunity of explaining matters to you.’ The old woman nodded, a smile passed over her morose face. • I’ll do everything,’ she said. ■ I’ll even jump into the fire, if we can only get poor Dornberg free again. I have always said that Frau Hennig was a treacherous serpent.’ • Is she Sdnnenberg’s wife?’ • Do you think eo ma’am ?’ ’ What other explanation is there for their intimate relations ?’ ’ Yes, indeed, it would seem so,’ said Katherine: ’ and yet I can hardly believe it, after all. If she were hie wife she would not be eo anxious to have him marry you.' • Who knows whether he really intended to do so ?’ replied Dora. * Possibly he thought that, when once engaged to me, he could cheat me out of my fortune without difficulty, and then the aim of the engagement would have been fulfilled. But we shall learn all that, I suppose, in the course of the examination. I must go now ; time is precious. Be shrewd and discreet, Katherine; you may be sure of being rewarded for your fidelity.* With these words she went into the bedroom to prepare for going out and, with the resolve first of all to consult Martin, the detective, and hear his advice, ehe soon fter left the house. CHAPTER XVII. GOOD NEWS. Kurt von Wartenfel’s suit had prospered.

and hie engagement to Vera von Busse dispelled for a short time the clouds which bung over his home. Baron Busse, with whom Kurt had always been a favourite, gave his consent gladly, but on one condition, namely, that Kurt should leave the army and devote himself to agricultural studies, eo as to be able eventually to take charge of the estate. Kurt was too much in love to object to this, and did not delay to send in hie resignation. On the morning when Dora discovered Sonnenberg’s plot he showed his father, for approval, a letter written by him to that effect which the old, gentleman, enveloped in clouds of smoke, perused attentively. * Well, nothing can be said against the form of this letter,’ he said, folding up the bulky sheet; * and Ido not doubt that his majesty will grant your request and appoint you to the reserve. But are you quite sure that you will never repent of thia step?'

*As Vera's husband ? As the owner of Elm Court?’ replied Kurt facetiously. 'How could that be possible ?’ * Zounds, I should suppose that the life of an officer of hussars had its charms, too. I think it would have been better if you had waited a few years before resigning ; possibly until you had a major’s rank in view, and you might have been sure of leaving as brevet-major.’ * And my hair would have been grey by that time, too,’ replied Kurt, laughing. * No, papa, what a man wants to do, he must do thoroughly. Baron Busse wishes me to devote myself to agriculture, henceforth, and I have promised to do so ; and, therefore, I ought to lose no time in beginning. If lam to take charge of that large estate in the future, I ought to prepare myself for it, for there’s no knowing what may happen ’ * Well, well, the baron is hale and hearty yet.*

* And God forbid that he should be taken from us soon ; but the possibility always exists, and in this case it would be my duty to administer Vera’s inheritance faithfully and conscientiously. Vera and her father are quite of my opinion, only they think I am making a sacrifice for them, for which they ought to be grateful, while I think I have more cause for gratitude than they.'

The colonel had lit a candle and sealed tho letter with his coat-of-arms. * You are right,' he said; ’no one will blame you for your course. On the contrary, you have acted as a man of honour should act. And when is the wedding to be I’ * In the spring, I think. Baron Busse told me yesterday that he has begun to prepare our nest for us ?' * And does Vera agree to that?' * Of course, she always yields to her father's wishes,and ehe will be glad, besides, to have some of the burden taken off his his shoulders. So we hope to see you at Elm Court in the summer.' * I’ll come and spend a few days with you now and then.’ * We expect you to live with us. We shall have a suit of rooms in readiness for you.’ * Why, what should I do at Elm Court?’ asked the colonel, looking up at hie eon. * Catch flies ? I am not old enough for that yet. Just leave mo in town here. You know I can’t get along without my club and my papers; and Fannie takesexcellent care of me.’ * Yes ; but if Fannie should leave you, too ?’ * The deuce 1 Don’t talk ucnsense I Fanny leave me 1 Why ? Because her brother has had that misfortune ? I have never reproached her for it. On the contrary—’ * No, not on that account. Will you promise me not to mention the matter to any one ?’ The colonel stared at hie eon, and slowly drew his long moustache through his fingers. * She doesn’t want to get married, I hope?’ * If an honourable man wished to make her bis wife, would you not wish her to accept ?’ * Why, yes ; but who is the honourable man ?’ * Discretion, papa ?’ * Parole d' honneur •Doctor Kerner.’ ‘The deuce! He?’ asked the colonel, elevating hie bushy eyebrows. * And this has been going on behind my back ?’ * Nothing has been done in the matter yet. papa,’ Kurt said, reassuringly. * I even doubt whether Fannie has a suspicion of the good fortune that awaits her.

The doctor has spoken to me on the subject, and I could nob discourage him in order not to deprive you of a good housekeeper. ’ •No, indeed, I should not have thanked you for it, either,’ said the old gentleman. * For that would be an excellent match for Fannie, and she would be sure to be happy. 1 only hope that she will accept the offer when it is made.' * Kerner is only waiting until he has procured Gustav’s discharge.’ ‘ I fear he may have to wait quite a while yet for that.’ * Is there no prospect yet ?’ * Not as far as I know. 1 have heard nothing from Frau Winkler in a long time, and Doctor Kerner keeps silent too. Well, well, so that’s the reason he comes here so often ?’ * Yes, indeed. And that was the reason I used to go out to Elm Gourt so often, too,’ said Kurt, with a laugh. 1 Love is a strong magnet. Good-by. papa! I am going to the colonel’s now to give him this letter.’ The old gentleman looked thoughtfully after his son. * IVhat spirit he has,’ he said to himself. ‘ Well, well, when he has once doffed his uniform he will regret it, that I prophesy. But he’ll get over it, too ; he is sound to the core, and his life at Elm' Court, with those excellent, sensible people, cannot fail to be a happy one.' His pipe was burned out ; he took another from the wall and lit it. then he wandered up and down the room. •Fannie and Doctor Kerner.’ he muttered. ‘ Who would have thought of that? Well, I’m heartily glad of it for her sake. Kerner is a man of honour, he makes a deal of money. Zounds ! She couldn’t make a better match! But will she see that? What if she were to say : No?’ He stopped and shook hie grey head in vexation and, a« he followed i>p his thought, the possibility of a refusal on Fannie’s part seemed to trouble him more und more. * I must find out about that,’ he said at last. 'l’ll sound her. The deuce! It would be a folly she could never forgive herself for.’ He left hie den without delay and went to the sitting room Fannie was sitting at her work-table by the window ; her needle was idle. The hasty movement with which she raised her hand to her eyes left the colonel to guess that she had been crying. * Why, what’s the matter? Not a case of unhappy love, I hope,’ he said, in bis jovial way. * What put that into your head, uncle ?’ Fannie replied, with a forced smile, as she took up her work again, in evident confusion. * Zounds ! I suppose I may ask ?’ •And who should be the object of that unhappy love? I don’t think it would be possible for you to answer that question, sir.’ * I am not so sure of that,’ said the colonel, roguishly. * Then please—‘No, that is my secret, child. So it has never struck you that you might get married some day ?’ A crimson glow suffused the girl’s sweet face; she bent her head lower, and a hardly audible sigh escaped her lips. •No,’she replied. ‘What could I offer a man who wished to make me his wife? Nothing but a dishonoured name.' * Any man who will want to marry you will be aware of that, so you need not consider it an impediment if he does not. And besides, even if your brother were guilty, nobody could blame you in the least for it.' * His name is mine also.’ * That is true, and I am your foster-father. So people might just as well say that I had brought him up to be a thief.’ ‘That would be absurd.’ ‘ It would be just as absurd to make you responsible for your brother's faults. No, child, don’t trouble yoursolf with such unnecessary anxieties ; there’s no blot on your honour, and if you should meet a man who loves you and wants to make you happy, say : •• Yes,” joyfully, and let nothing cloud your happiness.' ‘ And suppose such a case should occur,’ said Fannie, without looking up from her work ; * would it not be ungrateful of me to leave you, sir? Don’t think of my doing so, dear uncle. I shall stay with you as long as you live.’

* Indeed ? Well, that decision does great credit to your heart, but it shows that your little head is not as wise as 1 took it to be. Do you really suppose Vera will let anyone care for mo but herself? Do you think I shall be forsaken if you leave me? Why, thev are getting ready a set of rooms tor me at Elm Court even now, and I think I shall be very well oft there.’ ‘ Oh, in that case 1 shall, of course, have to try to find another home,’ said Fannie, with a sigh, while tho tears started to her eyes again. ‘You are right, uncle ; your place, henceforth, will bo with your children at Elm Court, and I cannot live there.’

* I should like to know why ?* * Don't be angry. You must feel that 1 am right. lam the sister of the man who is supposed to have robbed Baron Busse. My presence would constantly remind the baron of that loss. Consequently, it is a matter of course that I cannot accept his hospitality.’

* Has there been a word said about that?' asked the colonel, testily, twirling the ends of bis moustache and sending forth great volumes of smoke. * I don’t expect to go to Elm Court for a long time yet. I merely wanted to prove to you that I should by no means be forsaken if you should leave me for a home of your own.’ * Well, that will not happen very soon, either.’ ‘ Who knows ?' *I, uncle dear. lam quite sure of it.’ ‘ Then you have never yet met a man whom you could love with all your heart?' She lowered her eyelids. A tell-tale blush again spread over her face. * I do not deny such a possibility,’ she replied. * But I assure you that I have never given it a thought until now.’ * Nonsense, child ! Every girl thinks of such a possibility at your age, and I am sure you have done so too ; don’t deny it. I don’t blame you for it; on the contrary, I find it very natural. So, as I said before, if a good man asks you to be his wife and you feel that you can love him, don't hesitate long, but say : “ Yes.” Such happiness comes to us but once in our lives, and if we let it escape us then we have lust it forever.' At this moment the door opened, and Doctor Kerner was ar nounced. The colonel rose quickly and went to meet the visitor with a hearty grasp of the hand. A momentary blush passed over Fannie’s face as she bade bim good morning. * Have you brought us good news ?' asked the old gentleman, placing his pipe in the corner and offering the lawyer a chair. ‘ I am happy to say I have,’ replied Kerner, adjusting his spectacles and casting a warm, tender look at the young girl, who looked up joyfully. But you must pardon me if I do not disclose to you what must remain a secret for the present. You may —indeed you probably will—learn everything this evening. But I did not wish to keep you waiting so long ; I wanted you to share my joy at our having almost reached our goal.' •And I thank you for it with all my heart,’ replied Fannie, whose eyes sparkled with joy. *We will gladly be patient and ask no questions, if you wish it. Only tell us one thing: May we now countwith certa nty upon my brother’s being discharged and exonerated ?' * I feel sure of it,’ said Kerner. ‘ I expect confidently that the real culprit will be arrested to-day.' * Who is he?’ asked the colonel, quickly. * That is one of the questions that I am not yet at liberty to answer.’ ‘ Have you convincing proof?’ *We hope to obtain them by noon. We have these proofs in prospect from two quarters ; if one attempt fails the other will probably be successful.’ * And if both should fail?' asked Fannie, with nervous anxiety. *1 am not afraid of that,' replied the lawyer. * But it is possible.’ ‘ Then we are so close on the man’s heels that he cannot escape us.’ * He could leave town—’ ‘ We would no longer allow him to do so, Fraulein. We have discovered enough to have him arrested.’

‘ Well, that promises well for the realisation of ouT|hopes,’ said tho colonel, twirling his moustache. * Zounds ! If the scoundrel is once in gaol he’ll realise that he must confess. Let your attack be a vigorous

one, doctor. Don’t allow yourself to be unhorsed !' • Make your mind easy,’ replied the lawyer. * What we have begun we’ll carry through, and as things are at present I can promise you that the guilty party will not escape us.' ‘Do you think the money will berecovered, too ?' asked the colonel. ‘Certainly, it is through the discovery ot the bank notes that the thief is to be unmasked.’ * Ah, I should be glad of that for Baron Busse’s sake. He says, indeed, that he has got over the loss but, zounds I No matter how rich he is, it is no trifle to lose a hundred and fifty thousand thalers. But. how about Sonnenberg ? We all have been

taking him for the guilty party. la he no longer under suspicion ?’ * Not aa regards the robbery.’ * Nor Mrs Brighton’s death, either ?' said Fannie.

* Well, I have formed no opinion aa to that yet,' * replied the lawyer, with some hesitation, which showed plainly that he did not wish to speak on the subject. • Possibly we may ascertain something today or to morrow. The discoveries which we have made leave no doubt that he is an adventurer, but in that case, too, the tangible proofs are wanting which alone would justify an indictment. However, we have little or nothing to do with that matter ; we may be satisfied if we can have Dorn berg restored to liberty and honour.’

‘You are right,* observed the colonel, who had risen ; * if we accomplish that, we ,ieed not care what becomes of Sonnenberg, the adventurer. He may have been concerned in the robbery in some way, after all, and then the authorities will be sure to tind him out. Well, you are not going for vet awhile, are you, doctor? It you II excuse me, I’ll just go to my den and fill me a pi|»-’ So saying, he furtively gave the lawyer a very significant look and then hastily left the room.

Kerner looked after him somewhat perplexed. He thought he could guess the meaning of the look ; but how could the colonel know anything about his secret ? He suddenly remembered that Frau Winkler too had guessed it. Could she have spoken of it here ? • However that might be, tbo look had fulfilled its aim and encouraged him ; and, as he wae given to quick decisions, he resolved at once to make sure of his fate without further delay.

*So I may hope to see my brother today ?' asked Fannie, her voice trembling with ill-suppressed inward agitation. He looked up as if awaking from a dream and adjusted bis spectacles in evident embarrassment.

'To day ?' he replied. * That will hardly be possible. Even if we arrest the thief and extort a full confession from him, the prisoner cannot be discharged at once. The court will have to decide the point. I shall, of course, demand bis release as soon as the real culprit is arrested, but I fear we cannot hope for a decision before tomorrow.’

* But you can tell my brother the good news to-day ?’ ' Oh, of course, I shall do so without delay.’ * Thank you, very much. That intelligence will sweeten bis last night in prison. But what if your hopes should not be realised after all.' *We will not torment ourselves with such doubts, but wait and see what will happen at noon. If our plan should fail there will be nothing left but to concoct another one. We are, at least, convinced that we are following the right track now— May I ask you a question ?’ She looked up at him, and probably saw an expression in his features which betrayed to her the nature of the question he wished to ask. Blushing vividly she dropped her lids again, too confused to answer.

•I know you will not expect any fine speeches from me, for which neither you nor I care,' he continued, in an unsteady voice, as he drew nearer her and laid his hand on hers. * But I trust you will permit me to ask you the simple question : Will you be my wife? You must know how fervently I love you and how happy you will make me by saying : •• Yes.” I venture to hope that I am not quite indifferent to you. But you may be sure of one thing, Fannie—that my life will be devoted to your happiness, if you will confide this hand to me. Answer me frankly. I shall always be a true and unselfish friend to you even if you feel obliged to reject my suit.*

Fannie had, as it seemed, recovered her composure. She had not been quite prepared for this oiler. * Would it not be better for you if you could overcome and forget your love for me ?’ she replied, in a low, trembling voice.

* Better ?’ he asked, in surprise. * Yes : because I am not only totally without means, but also the sister of a man whose name is dishonoured. Do you think you ought to connect that dishonoured name—’ ‘ But we are going to restore it to honour,’ he remonstrated. * That is the hope you cherish, and I, of course, share it,' she continued, still looking fixedly before her with bowed head ; * but that hope can be frustrated, like so many others, and then my name will be dishonoured too.’

* Your name, dearest love ?' he cried passionately. ‘No blame can fall on you ; and even if the whole world were to be of the contrary opinion, I should not love you the less. Be mine, beloved, and we will defy everything. The malice of others shall cast no shadow on our happiness. I I you do not yet return my love, only tell me one thing : Do you think you can learn to love me ?’

He had put his arm around her, and she permitted it; and, as he drew her close to him, she laid her fair head u|>on his breast.

* Do you doubt it ?' she whispered, raising to him her beautiful eyes, that were wet with happy tears and radiant with love. • It was not for want of love that I hesitated but rather from excess of it, for I have loved you, dearest, ever since I first saw you.’

She could say no more ; hie kisses closid her lips, and they clung to each other in a long, happy embrace. Thus the colonel found them, when he re-entered the room with his burning pipe

At his ‘Zounds !’ they flew apart in alarm.

* Well, well. Fraulein Fannie ; how quickly a young lady can change her mind,’ said the old gentleman, with good-natured raillery, as ehe hastened to him, covered with blushes, and threw her arms about hie neck, as if to ask hie pardon. *lt is hardly half an hour since you vowed you would take care of me ae long as I live.’ * And it is my duty now to take part in the fulfilment of that vow,’ said Ductor Kerner, without hesitation. * We will make a happy home for you with us, sir; that I solemnly promise you.’ With a benevolent smile, like a loving father who sees his child’s dearest wish fulfilled, the colonel kissed Fannie's forehead, and then passed his hand lightly over her hair.

* I was only joking,’ he said, extending both hands to the young lawyer. *1 shall find a home at Elm Court, too. May God bless you if you make this dear child happy as I expect you will. You have found a pearl, my friend, the true value of which you will learn only in the future.’ * I fully appreciate its value even now,’ rep’ied Kerner, retaining the old gentleman's cordial grasp, ‘and I think I can prophesy confidently that we shall be happy.’ * And now we will ratify this betrothal with the ringing of the glasses,’ said the colonel, about to pull the bell. * I must ask you to postpone that festive rite, colonel, as I have no more time to spare just now. At twelve, or soon after, the matter 1 spoke of will be decided, ae we hope, and you can imagine that I wish to be on band so as to be able to take the joyful news to my darling here without delay.* * That is certainly an excellent reason, my dear fellow. Till we meet again then, and when you return we’ll have our celebration.’ Doctor Kerner did not hear the last words. He was bidding his betrothed a tender farewell, and as they had reason to fear the old gentleman’s jokes on the subject, Fannie accompanied him into the hall. ‘ My happiness will be perfect when you bring me the news of Gustav’s discharge,’ she said, with a beseeching look. • When may I expect you ?’ * Soon after dinner,* he replied. *lt may be two or three o'clock before we arrive at a complete certainty, and it is that alone which has any value for you now. But even if you should expect me in vain during the whole afternoon, do not despair, darling ; it is possible that we may meet with difficulties which we have not foreseen.’ * If they are only surmountable ones !’ * Do you still doubt ?' he asked, smiling. ’ Can you wonder, dearest ’ Ido not doubt you and your earnest purpose ; but success of such a plan so often depends on chance.’ ‘Courage, child, and patience a little while longer ! I must really go now. Goodby 1’ He kissed her once mere, and then hastened downstairs and, after consulting his watch, took the shortest way to the Black Eagle, where Martin was, possibly, already waiting tor Herr Roland, who was to buy the English banknotes from him. Fannie stood at the window and looked after her lover with radiant eyes. The colonel, who had been walking to and fro, smiled as his eyes rested on the lovely girl.

* Are you happy now ?’ he asked. ‘Unspeakably happy,’ she replied, turn ing to him.

‘And you really intended to renounce this happiness for the sake of a foolish prejudice ?' ‘ I did. It did not seem to me a prejudice. I thought it iny duty, and 1 expressed all my doubts. I could not know that Walter was so noble minded.’ ‘ Indeed! So you knew that he would Oder himself to you ?' * I suspected it.’ ‘Zounds! Just look at this hypocrite! A while Ago I wae assured that there was no possibility of a man’s even wanting to marry such an unfortunate girl. I was boldly asked whether I knew any man who would do so. Well, well, you had better not try such hypocrisy on me again.’ * But, uncle dear—’ * Don’t attempt to justify yourself. You had foreseen everything. You knew all about it and had kept it secret. Just wait; I’ll pay you off yet! And now you had better be thinking of dinner ; and, mind you, don’t spoil the soup. <'ooks that are in love have the reputation of being very wasteful with salt you know.’ * Nob when they are once engaged,' replied Fannie, with a laugh. * Not ?’ said he, likewise laughing. • Well, that is a comfort for me, to be sure. But don’t forget my warning, nevertheless,

chi'd. Engaged people are apt to be absent-minded, and much mischief is done through absence of mind.' (To fte Continued.)