The little bird who had entertained him vocally earlier in the morning was still vocal somewhere in a huge beech-tree. Around a spot of moisture on the gravel-drive two butterflies flitted incessantly. And over all brooded the calm and exquisite silence of the forest. An hour or more later he got up and re-entered the house. First he took a look at the valet's room. Evidently Karen's clothes had been brushed and pressed, for they had disappeared. Another door in the square hall promised to lead into the pantry, judging from significant sounds within. It did, and the housekeeper was in there as energetically busy as every German woman always is when occupied. And German women are always occupied. The kindly soul appeared to be much flattered by his visit. They had quite a gossiping time of it while she was preparing the breakfast dishes. It was mostly a monologue. No, she and Fritzl were not lonely at Quellenheim, although it was pleasant to have the Lodge open and a noble company there shooting. But, like Marlbrook, the Herr Baron had gone to the wars--alas!--and it might take him some time to capture Paris and London and set the remainder of the world in order. But it really seemed too bad; the Herr Baron was fond of his shooting; Fritzl had reported some good antlers in the forest, and a grey boar or two--but enormous! As for the place it would certainly go to ruin what with faggot stealers and godless poachers!--And the foresters, keepers, and even the wood-choppers all gone off and deserting the place--think of it!--the ungrateful Kerls--gone!--and doubtless to join the crazy Belgian army which had refused to permit Prussian troops to pass! _Prussian_ troops! The impudence of it! Gratitude! There was little of that in the world it seemed. "When does the Herr Baron return here?" inquired Guild, smiling. It appeared that the Herr Baron was to have arrived at Quellenheim this very week. But yesterday his adjutant telegraphed that he could not come perhaps for many weeks. No doubt he was very busy chasing the French and English. It was a pity; because the autumn is _wunderschön_ at Quellenheim. And as for the deer!--they stand even in the driveway and look at the Lodge, doubtless wondering, sir, why they are neglected by the hunters, and asking one another why good fat venison is no longer appreciated at Quellenheim. "Could you tell me where I may telegraph to the Herr Baron?" asked the young man, immensely amused by her gossip. "That I can, sir. My careful household reports are sent to the Herr Baron through military headquarters at Arenstein, Prussia. That is where he is to be addressed." "And a telegraph office?" "At the railroad station." "In communication with Prussia?" "Yes, sir," she said with a vigorous nod. "And whenever any of the yokels here about tamper with the wires the Uhlans come and chase them till they think the devil is after them!" "Uhlans. Here?"