"I can't explain--there isn't time. Förster may come to at any moment and set up a howl. We must search the house. Will you help?"
The rapidity of his extraordinary revelations had bewildered her a little, but with a shudder of horror at the man upon the floor she followed Rowland out into the hall, and with an effort gathered her scattered wits together.
"You would know the bag if you saw it?" he asked. "The black bag of the Bayrischer Hof?"
"Of course."
"It should be in this room in the wing on the south side," he muttered.
And while she wondered at the completeness of his information, she showed him the way down the corridor into the room which Herr Hochwald had occupied. Together they searched it,--in vain. The bag was not there. A methodical search of the house would take time, but there seemed nothing left to do. So Tanya lighted a candle to hunt in the other rooms upon the second floor while Rowland went down the stairs.
"The care-taker--Taglitz," she cried suddenly in alarm.
Rowland grinned. "Don't worry. He's doing his bit under the dining-room table."
She was not yet accustomed to the strange figures of speech of this astounding person to whom she had given her heart. She only knew that she believed in him with all her soul and that if he could be cheerful, all was well. So she searched the rooms across the corridor, finding no bag of any sort. But in a moment she heard a cry from Rowland and went to the head of the stairs, peering over, candle in hand.
"I've found it," he cried. "Is not this it?"