"Of course we must go back again; but why then did she make an appointment? She herself, the old witch, told me to come at this hour. And it's a long way to where I live. Where the deuce can she be? I don't understand it. She never stirs from one year's end to the other, the old witch; she quite rots in the place, her legs have always got something the matter with them, and now all on a sudden she goes gallivanting about!"
"Suppose we question the porter?"
"What for?"
"To find out where she's gone and when she will be back."
"Hum!—the deuce!—question!—but she never goes anywhere." And he again tugged at the door handle. "The devil take her! there's nothing to be done but to go."
"Wait!" suddenly exclaimed the young man, "look!—do you notice how the door resists when we pull it?"
"Well, what then?"
"Why, that shows that it's not locked, but bolted! Hark how it clinks!"
"Well?"
"Don't you understand? That shows that one of them must be at home. If both were out, they would have locked the door after them, and not have bolted it inside. Listen, don't you hear the noise it makes? Well, to bolt one's door, one must be at home, you understand. Therefore it follows that they are at home, only for some reason or other they don't open the door!"