tograph Marie. I promised Waerli I would."

The Disagreeable Man smiled grimly.

"I hope he will be able to recognize her!" he said. Then, feeling that
he was on dangerous ground, he added quickly:

"If you want any more plates, I can oblige you."

On her way to her room she stopped to talk to pretty Fraeulein Mueller,
who was in high spirits, having had an excellent report from the Doctor.
Fraeulein Mueller always insisted on talking English with Bernardine; and
as her knowledge of it was limited, a certain amount of imagination was
necessary to enable her to be understood.

"Ah, Miss Holme," she said, "I have deceived an exquisite report from
the Doctor."

"You are looking ever so well," Bernardine said. "And the love-making
with the Spanish gentleman goes on well, too?"

"Ach!" was the merry answer. "That is your inventory! I am quite
indolent to him!"

At that moment the Spanish gentleman came out of the Kurhaus flower-
shop, with a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

"Mademoiselle," he said, handing them to Fraeulein Mueller, and at the
same time putting his hand to his heart. He had not noticed Bernardine
at first, and when he saw her, he became somewhat confused. She smiled
at them both, and escaped into the flower-shop, which was situated in
one of the covered passages connecting the mother-building with the
dependencies. Herr Schmidt, the gardener, was making a wreath. His
favourite companion, a saffron cat, was playing with the wire. Schmidt
was rather an ill-tempered man, but he liked Bernardine.

"I have put these violets aside for you, Fraeulein," he said, in his
sulky way. "I meant to have sent them to your room, but have been
interrupted in my work."

"You spoil me with your gifts," she said.

"You spoil my cat with the milk," he replied, looking up from his work.

"That is a beautiful wreath you are making, Herr Schmidt," she said.
"Who has died? Any one in the Kurhaus?"

"No, Fraeulein. But I ought to keep my door locked when I make these
wreaths. People get frightened, and think they, too, are going to die.
Shall you be frightened, I wonder?"

"No, I believe not," she answered as she took possession of her violets,
and stroked the saffron cat. "But I am glad no one has died here."

"It is for a young, beautiful lady," he said. "She was in the Kurhaus
two years ago. I liked her. So I am taking extra pains. She did not care
for the flowers to be wired. So I am trying my best without the wir