The maid was just setting the table for the evening meal in the adjoining room when the couple were giving expression to their surmises, explaining in one way or another this prolonged absence.
“Minna,”—Frau Weil turned to the girl,—“I think you had better go to the house of Frau Pastor Klein and ask whether Frau Major Kahle is still there. I shall have no rest until I know what has become of her.”
“I don’t think I shall find her at the Frau Pastor’s, gracious lady,” replied the girl, “for I saw the Frau Major up on the avenue, about half-past four, as I was fetching the milk, and the Frau Pastor lives right behind the church.”
“In that case there is no use in sending there,” and Frau Weil shrugged her shoulders.
“I think my idea will prove the right one,” said the first lieutenant,—“it was a mere pretext on her part. She did not want to tell us where she was really going. I have my own thoughts about the matter.”
“And what do you think, Max,” his wife asked, with some show of curiosity. “Where else could she be?”
“With Kolberg, of course.”
“But how can you say so, Max? I don’t suppose she....”
“Certainly she will! That is just what she is doing.”
Both became silent when the servant girl stepped in. She placed the teapot on the table, and then took a folded piece of paper from her pocket, and handed it to Weil with a peculiar smile.