'My husband?' I repeated inquiringly. 'But he isn't. He's at home. Minding, I hope, my neglected children.'
'At home? Then who—then whose husband was that?'
'Was what?' I asked, following her eyes which were fixed on the door so lately slammed.
'Why, that man in spectacles?'
'Really, how can I tell? Perhaps nobody's. Certainly not mine.'
Mrs. Harvey-Browne stared at me in immense surprise. 'How very extraordinary,' she said.
THE SIXTH DAY—Continued
THE GRANITZ WOODS, SCHWARZER SEE, AND KIEKÖWER
In the woods behind Binz, alone in the heart of them, near a clearing where in past days somebody must have lived, for ancient fruit trees still mark the place that used to be a garden, there is a single grave on which the dead beech leaves slowly dropping down through the days and nights of many autumns, have heaped a sober cover. On the headstone is a rusty iron plate with this inscription—