was weak and exhausted
as well as overcome by her anxiety. Before resorting to such a measure,
however, he thought it best to try to encourage her to walk on.

"Nothing that one expects, ever happens," he said confidently, and passing
his arm through hers, as though to lead her away. "Come, you will be at
home presently and then you will go to bed and in the morning, before you
are at the shop, everything will have been set right, and I daresay the
Count will be there before you, and looking as well as ever."

"How can you say that, when you know that he never comes on Wednesdays!"
exclaimed Vjera through her tears. "I am sure something dreadful will
happen to him. No, not that way--not that way!"

Schmidt was trying to guide her round a sharp corner, but she resisted
him.

"But that is the way home," protested the Cossack.

"I know, but I cannot go home, until I have seen where he is. I must
go--you must not prevent me!"

"To the police-station?" inquired Schmidt in considerable astonishment.
"They will not let us go in, you know. You cannot possibly see him. What
good can it do you to go and look at the place?"

"You do not understand, Herr Schmidt! You are good and kind, but you do
not understand me. Pray, pray come with me, or let me go alone. I will go
alone, if you do not want to come. I am not at all afraid--but I must go."

"Well, child," answered Schmidt, good-humouredly. "I will go with you,
since you are so determined."

"Is this the way? Are you not misleading me? Oh, I am sure I shall never
see him again--quick, let us walk quickly, Herr Schmidt! Only think what
he may be suffering at this very moment!"

"I am sure he is asleep, my dear child. And when we are outside of the
police-station we cannot know what is going on inside, whether our friend
is asleep or awake, and it can do no good whatever to go. But since you
really wish it so much, we are going there as fast as we can, and I
promise to take you by the shortest way."

Her step grew more firm as they went on and he felt that there was more
life in the hand that rested on his arm. The prospect of seeing the walls
of the place in which the Count was unwillingly spending the night gave
Vjera fresh strength and courage. The way was long, as distances are
reckoned in Munich, and more than ten minutes elapsed before they reached
the building. A sentry was pacing the pavement under the glare of the
gaslight, his shadow lengthening, shortening, d