The mystery was solved: Joko, Alice's parrot, having secretly stolen from his quarters, sat on the rung of a chair and played the evil conscience of the house. The tame animal stepped with dignity upon his outstretched hand and permitted itself to be lifted into the light.... Its glittering neck-feathers stood up, and while it whetted its beak on Niebeldingk's cuff-links, it repeated in a most subterranean voice: "Richard!" And suddenly the dear feeling of belonging here, of being at home came over Niebeldingk. He had all but lost it. But its gentle power drew him on and refreshed him. It was his right and his duty to be at home here where a dear woman lived so exclusively for him that the voice of her yearning sounded even from the tongue of the brute beast that she possessed! There was no possibility of feeling free and alien here. "I must find her!" he thought quickly, "I musn't leave her alone another second." He set Joko carefully on the table and sought to reach her bed-room which he had never entered by this approach. In the door that led to the rear hall she met him. Her demeanour had its accustomed calm, her eyes were clear and dry. "My poor, dear darling!" he cried and wanted to take her in his arms. A strange, repelling glance met him and interrupted his beautiful emotion. Something hardened in him and he felt a new inclination to sarcasm. "Forgive me for leaving you," she said, "one must have patience with the folly of my sex. You know that well." And she preceded him to his old place. Screaming with pleasure Joko flew forward to meet her, and Niebeldingk remained standing to take his leave. She did not hold him back. Outside it occurred to him that he hadn't told her the anecdote of Fritz and the Indian lilies. "It's a pity," he thought, "it might have cheered her." ... Chapter VIII Next morning Niebeldingk sat at his desk and reflected with considerable discomfort on the experience of the previous evening. Suddenly he observed, across the street, restlessly waiting in the same doorway--the avenging spirit! It was an opportune moment. It would distract him to make an example of the fellow. Nothing better could have happened. He rang for John and ordered him to bring up the wretched fellow and, furthermore, to hold himself in readiness for an act of vigorous expulsion. Five minutes passed. Then the door opened and, diffidently, but with a kind of professional dignity, the knight of several honourable orders entered the room. Niebeldingk made rapid observations: A beardless, weatherworn old face with pointed, stiff, white brows. The little, watery eyes knew how to hide their cunning, for nothing was visible in them save an expression of wonder and consternation. The black frock coat was threadbare but clean, his linen was spotless. He wore a stock which had been the last word of fashion at the time of the July revolution. "A sharper of the most sophisticated sort," Niebeldingk concluded.