Albert had risen and gone before the mirror, probably in order to see how such a clever head looked. "There is an idea," he repeated, and kissed his hand to his double in the glass, who returned the compliment promptly, "a very famous idea, which must be carried out at any hazard. Perhaps the Jew pedler may have been a real Israelite, and agent of Monsieur d'Estein; perhaps he only brought the girl a letter which contained the plan for the elopement, and perhaps this letter might, if found, put us on the track of the fugitives." Mr. Timm suddenly paused in his monologue, and his face grew dark: "Confound it," he murmured, "there is no money, that _nervus verum_, that divining-rod by which alone treasures can be raised! Of course I shall have to make several trips in order to find it all out. I must go to Berlin, Ann Street, No. 21, third story, to look for information. But travelling costs money, and my assets amount to about five groschen, one of which I believe is counterfeit. I must make a forced loan. Marguerite must help. I was near enough doing it the other day, when the agreeable family suddenly returned and abruptly terminated our idyllic life. To be sure, these miserable plats must first be finished; otherwise Anna Maria won't let me go. I must submit to it." And Mr. Timm lighted another cigar, unlocked the door, bent over his drawing-board, and worked with a zeal as if he had no other plans and knew nothing else in the world but the simple duty of a first-class surveyor. CHAPTER VI.