“Lieutenant Theobald Leining was here on a visit to his sister last March, wasn’t he?” the detective asked as Franz led him out of the gate.
“Yes, sir; the Lieutenant was here just about that time,” answered the old man.
“And he left here on the 16th of March?”
“On the 16th? Why, it may have been—yes, it was the 16th—that is our lady’s birthday. He went away that day.” Franz bowed a farewell to this stranger who began to appear uncanny in his eyes, and shutting the gate carefully he returned to the house.
“What does the man want anyway?” he murmured to himself, shivering involuntarily. Without knowing why he turned his steps towards Mrs. Bernauer’s room. He opened the door hesitatingly as if afraid of what he might see there. He would not have been at all surprised if he had found the housekeeper fainting on the floor as before.
But she was not fainting this time. She was very much alive, for, to Franz’s great astonishment, she was busied at the packing of a valise.
“Are you going away too?” asked Franz. Mrs. Bernauer answered in a voice that was dull with weariness: “Yes, Franz, I am going away. Will you please look up the time-tables of the Southern railroad and let me know when the morning express leaves? And please order a cab in time for it. I will depend upon you to look after the house in my absence. You can imagine that it must be something very important that takes me to Venice.”
“To Venice? Why, what are you going to Venice for?”
“Never mind about that, Franz, but help me to pray that I may get there in time.”
She almost pushed the old man out of the door with these last words and shut and locked it behind him.