The door opened: a female figure was about to enter; he turned, and the painful suspense escaped in a shrill exclamation,--"Prison Fairy!" The door was closed, and light footsteps rapidly retreated. As in a dream we often vainly strive to reach something with trembling haste, the width of the little space he must pass to pursue the fugitive seemed far too great for Ottmar. His hands trembled so violently in his hurry that he opened the heavy old lock with difficulty, and when he emerged she had disappeared.
"Where is she?" he asked of a jailer who was just coming up the passage.
"Does your lordship mean the Prison Fairy? I have not seen her to-day."
"That is a lie! She was here just now."
"Yes, your lordship, it may be so; she always bids the Herr Inspector good-morning before she goes to the prisoners."
"Call the inspector here," said Heinrich, returning to the cell.
The official, an elderly man, with honest features, obeyed the summons.
"Herr Inspector," said Heinrich, sternly, "you have for several years allowed a lady secret access to the prisoners."
"Yes, Herr Geheimrath," said the man, with dignified composure.
"Have you ever received permission to do so from any higher authority?"