“Let her go where she will, Max,” retorted Frau Weil, indifferently. “It’s none of our affair. She will leave in a day or two, anyway, and, after all, she is responsible for her own actions.” But Weil shook his head doubtfully and went to his study. The clock on the mantel indicated eight, and Frau Kahle had not yet returned. They began to fear anxiety on the score of their guest. What could have happened to her? 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. “Has this perhaps been dropped by either the Herr First Lieutenant or the gracious lady?” And as Minna had again retired, the officer first gazed at the paper with eyes wide open, then he gave a scornful laugh and held it open to his wife. “Here, my dear, will you not convince yourself? There it is in black and white.” Frau Weil hesitatingly took the slip of paper from his hands and read: “Am expecting you to-day at 4.30, since I shall be engaged to-morrow in the service.” Signature and address were wanting, but the writing was unmistakably Kolberg’s. “Here it is,” said Weil. “That is her way of thanking us for offering her our hospitality,--just lying to us, and trying to befool us for no other purpose than to permit her to continue her disgraceful conduct. Didn’t I at once say it would be better not to have her come? But you, of course, insisted on inviting her. If you had listened to me, we should now be spared the disagreeable necessity of throwing that woman out.” “But for heaven’s sake, Max, that you can’t do. Throw the note into the fire!”