he added, speaking to the scribe at his elbow.

"Your name?" continued he, addressing the Count. "Boris Michaelovitch,
Count Skariatine."

"Count?" repeated the officer. "We shall see. Occupation?"

"I have been occupied in the manufacture of cigarettes," answered the
Count. "But as I was only engaged in this during a period of temporary
embarrassment from which I shall be relieved to-morrow, I may be described
as having no particular occupation."

The officer stared incredulously for a moment and then nodded to the
scribe in token that he was to write down what was said.

"Charged with having stolen a doll, is that it?" He turned to the
policeman in charge.

"Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann."

"May it please you, Herr Hauptmann, I did not say that," put in the
porter, coming forward.

"Who are you?"

"The man from whom the doll was stolen. Jacob Goggelmann, Dienstmann
number 87, formerly private in the Fourth Artillery, lately messenger in
the Thueringer Doll Manufactory."

"When was the doll stolen?"

"Last New Year's eve," answered the porter.

"And you have not seen it until to-day?"

"No, Herr Hauptmann."

"Then how do you know it is the same one? I suppose it is not the only
doll of its kind in Munich."

"I am sure of it. I was a messenger in the shop, Herr Hauptmann, and I
knew everything there, just as though I had been one of the young ladies
who serve the customers. Besides, you will find my name written in pencil
under the pedestal."

"That is another matter," said the officer, taking the Gigerl and holding
it upside down to the gaslight. The reversing of the thing's natural
position produced some mysterious effect upon the musical box, and the
tune which had been so rudely interrupted by Akulina's well-aimed blow,
suddenly began again from the point at which it had stopped, continuing
for a few bars and then coming to an end with a sharp twang and a little
click. The policemen tittered audibly, and even the captain smiled faintly
in his big yellow beard. Then he knit his brows as he deciphered something
which was written on the pinewood under the base.

"You should have said so at once," he observed. "Your name is there, as
you assert."

"It was written to show that I was to take it. I had it in a basket with
other things. I put it down a moment in the yard of the Hofbraeuhaus, and
when I came back the basket was gone."

"And what do you know about it?" The question was addressed to the Count