"A dog?" he cried. "But, mein herr, dogs are not permitted to be in the castle."
"Who is she? How did she get there?"
"Heaven defend us, sir! It must have been the ghost of—"
"Ghost, your granny!" I cried, relapsing into English. "Please don't beat about the bush, Mr. Schmick. She's over there in the unused wing, which I haven't been allowed to penetrate in spite of the fact that it belongs to me. You say you can't find the keys to that side of the castle. Will you explain how it is that it is open to strange women and—and dogs?"
"You must be mistaken, mein herr," he whined abjectly. "She cannot be there. She—Ah, I have it! It may have been my wife. Gretel! Have you been in the east—"
"Nonsense!" I cried sharply. "This won't do, Mr. Schmick. Give me that bunch of keys. We'll investigate. I can't have strange women gallivanting about the place as if they owned it. This is no trysting place for Juliets, Herr Schmick. We'll get to the bottom of this at once. Here, you Rudolph, fetch a couple of lanterns. Max, get a sledge or two from the forge. There is a forge. I saw it yesterday out there back of the stables. So don't try to tell me there isn't one. If we can't unlock the doors, we'll smash 'em in. They're mine, and I'll knock 'em to smithereens if I feel like it."
The four Schmicks wrung their hands and shook their heads and, then, repairing to the scullery, growled and grumbled for fully ten minutes before deciding to obey my commands. In the meantime, I related my experience to Poopendyke and Britton.
"That reminds me, sir," said Britton, "that I found a rag-doll in the courtyard yesterday, on that side of the building, sir—I should say castle, sir."
"I am quite sure I heard a baby crying the second night we were here, Mr. Smart," said my secretary nervously.
"And there was smoke coming from one of the back chimney pots this morning," added Britton.