"You brought him here, eh! But why up here? Or did der Stelze send him?" She fired this string of questions at me without pausing for a reply. She continued: "I was out, but Karl told me. There was another came, too: Franz sent him." "This is he," I said. "I caught him prying in my room and he died." "Ach!" she ejaculated ... and in her voice was all the world of admiration that a German woman feels for brute man.... "The Herr Englander came into your room and he died. So, so! But one must speak to Franz. The man drinks too much. He is always drunk. He makes mistakes. It will not do. I will...." "I wish you to do nothing against Franz," I said. "This Englishman spoke German well: Karl will tell you." "As the gentleman wishes," was the woman's reply in a voice so silky and so servile that I felt my gorge rise. "She looks like a slug!" I said to myself, as she stood there, fat and sleek and horrible. "Here are his passport and other papers," I said, bending down and taking them from the dead man's pocket. "He was an English officer, you see?" And I unfolded the little black book stamped with the Royal Arms. She leant forward and I was all but stifled with the stale odour of the patchouli with which her faded body was drenched. Then, making a sheaf of passport and permit, I held them in the flame of the candle. "But we always keep them!" expostulated the hotel-keeper. "This passport must die with the man," I replied firmly. "He must not be traced. I want no awkward enquiries made, you understand. Therefore ..." and I flung the burning mass of papers into the grate. "Good, good!" said the German and put her lamp down on the table. "There was a telephone message for you," she added, "to say that der Stelze will come at eight in the morning to receive what you have brought." The deuce! This was getting awkward. Who the devil was Stelze? "Coming at eight is he?" I said, simply for the sake of saying something. "Jawohl!" replied Frau Schratt. "He was here already this morning. He was nervous, oh! very, and expected you to be here. Already two days he is waiting here to go on." "So," I said, "he is going to take ... _it_ on with him, is he?" (I knew where he was "going on" to, well enough: he was going to see that document safe into Germany.) There was a malicious ring in the woman's voice when she spoke of Stelze. I thought I might profit by this. So I drew her out. "So Stelze called to-day and gave you his orders, did he?" I said, "and ... and took charge of things generally, eh?" Her little eyes snapped viciously. "Ach!" she said, "der Stelze is der Stelze. He has power; he has authority; he can make and unmake men. But I ... I in my time have broken a dozen better men than he and yet he dares to tell Anna Schratt that ... that ..." She raised her voice hysterically, but broke off before she could finish the sentence. I saw she thought she had said too much.