Jerrmann tells another story within his own experience. A silver table-spoon was stolen from his kitchen; his suspicions fell upon the baker who brought him bread, and the same day the thief was captured, and the spoon traced to a receiver's shop. Justice was prompt in its action; the thief was duly punished, the receiver's shop was closed. But the police took possession of the spoon! Herr Jerrmann valued the spoon, which was a christening gift, and he was determined to spare no pains to recover it. He was, however, referred from one person to another, hunted from place to place in the most vexatious way, and all without result. At last a commissary who was the custodian of the spoon asked him frankly why he was so persevering; the value of the spoon was trifling, and he must have spent more money in droschkies than the thing was worth, while he might confidently expect to be much more out of pocket still before he got back his property. Jerrmann, seeing how the land lay, suddenly decided upon a daring ruse. He told the commissary that he meant to have the spoon the very next day, and when he was asked mockingly what he proposed to do, he answered simply that he was going to dine that evening with Perovsky, the Minister of the Interior. "And I mean," added Jerrmann, "to ask him a riddle, namely, how to recover one's property when it is temporarily held by the police. If you will come to breakfast with me to-morrow morning I promise you that you shall make use of that very spoon. But whether you wear uniform or not will entirely depend upon how Perovsky deals with my riddle." The commissary again laughed, but a little uneasily. He accepted the invitation to breakfast, and when he came the spoon was on the table; he had sent it in anticipation. The best part of this story is that the dinner with Perovsky was purely imaginary. But that famous Minister's name was ever a terror to faithless officials.