“It's burned.”
“Well, then, show her the soap dish! Brush your hair with your hands! This is something between Drum Crambo and Mulberry Bush!”
The whole day was not unlike a fatiguing game of hide-and-seek, and had it not been for Raeburn's great anxiety, it would have been exceedingly amusing. Everything was now inside the hotel again, but of course in the wildest confusion. The personal property of the visitors was placed, as it came to light, in the hall porter's little room; but things were to be met with in all directions. At ten o'clock, one of Raeburn's boots was found on the third story; in the evening, its fellow turned up in the entrance hall. Distracted tourists were to be seen in all directions, burrowing under heaps of clothes, or vainly opening cupboards and drawers, and the delight of finding even the most trifling possession was great. For hours Raeburn and Erica searched for the lost papers in vain. At length, in the evening, the coat was found; but, alas! The pocket was empty.
“The envelope must have been taken out,” said Erica. “Was it directed?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” said Raeburn. “But, after all, there is still a
chance that it may have tumbled out as the coat fell. If so, we may find
it elsewhere. I've great faith in the honesty of these Innsbruck people,
notwithstanding the craze of some of them that property is theft. That
worthy man yesterday was right, I expect. I hear that the proprietor had
had a threatening letter not long ago to this effect:
“'Sein thun unser Dreissig,
Schuren thun wir fleissig.
Dem Armen that's nichts
Dem Reichen schad's nichts.
That is tolerably unmistakable, I think. I'll have it in next week's 'Idol,' with an article on the folly of socialism.”
Judicious offers of reward failed to bring the papers to light, and Raeburn was so much vexed about it, and so determined to search every nook and cranny of the hotel, that it was hard to get him away even for meals. Erica could not help feeling that it was hard that the brief days of relaxation he had allowed himself should be so entirely spoiled.
“Now, if I were a model daughter, I should dream where to find the thing,” she said, laughingly, as she wished him good night.
She did not dream at all, but she was up as soon as it was light, searching once more with minute faithfulness in every part of the hotel. At length she came to a room piled from floor to ceiling with linen, blankets, and coverlets.
“Have all these been shaken?” she asked of the maid servant who had been helping her.