To return to the address at which the first delivery was made, what had happened there was this. Some eight hours previously had said Mr. X. to Mrs. X.: "I think I told you, my dear, that I had an invitation for this evening to what, I believe, is called a Kneipe?" "You did mention something of the sort," replied Mrs. X. "What is a Kneipe?" "Well, it's a sort of bachelor party, my dear, where the students meet to sing and talk and--and smoke, and all that sort of thing, you know." "Oh, well, I hope you will enjoy yourself!" said Mrs. X., who was a nice woman and sensible. "It will be interesting," observed Mr. X. "I have often had a curiosity to see one. I may," continued Mr. X.,--"I mean it is possible, that I may be home a little late." "What do you call late?" asked Mrs. X. "It is somewhat difficult to say," returned Mr. X. "You see these students, they are a wild lot, and when they get together--And then, I believe, a good many toasts are drunk. I don't know how it will affect me. If I can see an opportunity I shall come away early, that is if I can do so without giving offence; but if not--" Said Mrs. X., who, as I remarked before, was a sensible woman: "You had better get the people here to lend you a latchkey. I shall sleep with Dolly, and then you won't disturb me whatever time it may be." "I think that an excellent idea of yours," agreed Mr. X. "I should hate disturbing you. I shall just come in quietly, and slip into bed." Some time in the middle of the night, or maybe towards the early morning, Dolly, who was Mrs. X.'s sister, sat up in bed and listened. "Jenny," said Dolly, "are you awake?" "Yes, dear," answered Mrs. X. "It's all right. You go to sleep again." "But whatever is it?" asked Dolly. "Do you think it's fire?" "I expect," replied Mrs. X., "that it's Percy. Very possibly he has stumbled over something in the dark. Don't you worry, dear; you go to sleep." But so soon as Dolly had dozed off again, Mrs. X., who was a good wife, thought she would steal off softly and see to it that Percy was all right. So, putting on a dressing-gown and slippers, she crept along the passage and into her own room. To awake the gentleman on the bed would have required an earthquake. She lit a candle and stole over to the bedside. It was not Percy; it was not anyone like Percy. She felt it was not the man that ever could have been her husband, under any circumstances. In his present condition her sentiment towards him was that of positive dislike. Her only desire was to get rid of him. But something there was about him which seemed familiar to her. She went nearer, and took a closer view. Then she remembered. Surely it was Mr. Y., a gentleman at whose flat she and Percy had dined the day they first arrived in Berlin.