As she spoke she rose from her seat, and giving him a very slight bow, she passed into the bedroom, the door of which she closed behind her.
John Merton waited for a moment, then turned on his heel, and silently left the house.
[CHAPTER XXVI.]
AM RHEIN.
George Wainwright found that early winter had already descended upon Germany. When he arrived at Cologne the last tourist had long since passed through that pleasant old city. The large hotels were shut up; the valets de place and cathedral touters had melted away, only to reappear with the advent of summer; all the vendors of the Eau had shut up their shops, and disappeared to more lively places, to spend the money which they had acquired during the season; and even in the second and third rate hotels the large salons were closed, and but the smaller apartments were kept open for the reception of such commercial gentlemen as the exigences of business kept upon the road.
This did not matter much to George Wainwright, who was as careless of luxuries as most men, and who, as an old traveller, had comfortable head-quarters on which he could depend in most leading cities in Europe. It was at the Brusseler Hof that George put up when he was in Cologne, and, no matter what the season, he was sure to find the cosy little second-rate inn full of business, and to experience a hearty welcome from stout old Schuhmacher the landlord.
It was not so long since his last visit but that he was remembered; and on his arrival, was placed close up at his old host's right hand at the little table d'hôte, consisting then solely of the host's family and a few neighbouring burghers, who habitually dined there all the year round. There was a good deal of quiet solemn chaff at the idea of an Englishman daring to put in an appearance on the Rhine border between the months of October and May, and a certain amount of ponderous solicitude expressed in many polysyllabic words was exhibited as to the reason of his journey. But George took care to keep this to himself, passing it off in the best way he could, and merely informing his querists that he was going as far as Mainz.
Then he heard that ice had fallen in the river, that the steam-boat traffic was quite suspended, and that he would have to travel in the eilwagen, which he learned to his cost on the morrow was a humorous name for a wretched conveyance something like a diligence, without an intérieur or a banquette, which crawled along at the rate of between five and six miles an hour, and the company in which was anything but desirable.
George slept at Coblenz that night, and the next day made his way to Mainz, where he at once proceeded to an old inn situate in one of the back streets of the town, and bearing the sign Zum Karpfen, which was the head-quarters of the artistic body who nightly held high jinks in the kneipe there.
By numerous members of this brotherhood--young men fantastically dressed, with long hair and quaintly-cut beards, and pipes of every kind and shape pendent from their mouths--George was received with very great enthusiasm. Some of them had been his fellow-students at the University; all of them had heard of him and his learning, and his love for German songs and traditions and student-life. And high revelry was held that night in honour of his arrival; and ohms of beer were voted by acclamation and speedily drunk; and speeches were made, and songs were sung, and George was kissed and embraced by full two-thirds of the company present.