The insolence in Carmichael's tone set the vintner's ears a-burning, but he swallowed his wrath.
"I like him," Gretchen declared, as she stopped before the house.
"Why?" jealously.
"Because he is always like that; pleasant, never ruffled, kindly. He will make a good husband to some woman."
The vintner shrugged. He was not patient to-night.
"Who is this mysterious woman?"
"I am not free to tell you."
"Oh!"
"Leopold, what is the matter with you to-night? You act like a boy."
"Perhaps the police muddle is to blame. Besides, every time I see this man Carmichael I feel like a baited dog."
"In Heaven's name, why?"
"Nothing that I can remember. But I have asked you a question."
"And I have declined to answer that question. All my secrets are yours, but this one is another's."
"Is it her highness?"
Gretchen fingered the latch suggestively.
"I am wrong, Gretchen; you are right. Kiss me!"
She liked the tone; she liked the kisses, too, though they hurt.
"Good night, my man!" she whispered.
"Good night, my woman! To-morrow night at eight."
He turned and ran lightly and swiftly up the street. Gretchen remained standing in the doorway till she could see him no more. Why should he run like that? She raised the latch and went inside.
From the opposite doorway a mountaineer, a carter, a butcher, and a baker stepped cautiously forth.
"He heard something," said the mountaineer. "He has ears like a rat for hearing. What a pretty picture!" cynically. "All the world loves a lover--sometimes. Touching scene!"
No one replied; no one was expected to reply; more than that, no one cared to court the fury which lay thinly disguised in the mountaineer's tones.
"To-morrow night; you heard what he said. I am growing weary of this play. You will stop him on his way to yonder house. A closed carriage will be at hand. Before he enters, remember. She watches him too long when he leaves. Fool!"
The quartet stole along in the darkness, noiselessly and secretly.
The vintner had indeed heard something. He knew not what this noise was, but it was enough to set his heels to flying. A phase had developed in his character that defied analysis; suspicion, suspicion of daylight, of night, of shadows moving by walls, of footsteps behind. Only a little while ago he had walked free-hearted and careless. This growing habit of skulking was gall and wormwood. Once in his room, which was directly over the office of the American consulate, he fell into a chair, inert and breathless. What a night! What a series of adventures!
"Only a month ago I was a boy. I am a man now, for I know what it is to suffer. Gretchen, dear Gretchen, I am a black scoundrel! But if I break your heart I shall break my own along with it. I wonder how much longer it will last. But for that vintner's notice I should have been lost."