"I must get back to work," said I, but half-heartedly.

"To the devil with your work! Throw it over. You've got money; your

book is gaining you fame. What's a hundred dollars a week to you, and

jumping from one end of the continent to the other with only an hour's

notice?"

"I'll sleep on it."

"Good. I'll go to bed now, and you can have the hearth and the tobacco

to yourself."

"Good night," said I.

Yes, I wanted to be alone. But I did not smoke. I sat and stared into

the flickering flames in the grate. I had lost Gretchen. . . . To

hold a woman in your arms, the woman you love, to kiss her lips, and

then to lose her! Oh, I knew that she loved me, but she was a

Princess, and her word was given, and it could not be. The wind sang

mournfully over the sills of the window; thick snow whitened the panes;

there was a humming in the chimneys. . . . She was jealous of Phyllis;

that was why I knew that she loved me. . . . And the subtle change in

Phyllis's demeanor towards me; what did it signify? . . . Gretchen was

to be married Thursday because there were no proofs that Phyllis was

her sister. . . . What if Gretchen had been Phyllis, and Phyllis had

been Gretchen. . . . Heigho! I threw some more coals on the fire.

The candle sank in the socket. There are some things we men cannot

understand; the sea, the heavens and woman. . . . Suddenly I brought

both hands down on my knees. The innkeeper! The innkeeper! He knew!

In a moment I was rummaging through the stack of time tables. The next

south-bound train left at 3:20. I looked at the clock; 2:20. My dress

suit began to fly around on various chairs. Yes; how simple it was!

The innkeeper knew; he had known it all these years. I threw my white

cravat onto the table and picked up the most convenient tie. In ten

minutes from the time the idea came to me I was completely dressed in

traveling garments. I had a day and a half. It would take twenty

hours to fetch the innkeeper. I refused to entertain the possibility

of not finding him at the inn. I swore to heaven that the nuptials of

the Princess Hildegarde of Hohenphalia and the Prince Ernst of

Wortumborg should not be celebrated at noon, Thursday. I went into the

bedroom.

"Pembroke?"

"What is it?" came drowsily.

"I am going on a journey."

"One of those cursed orders you get every other day?" he asked.




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