tely
the streaming Mr. Ziegler, who, ejecting the mute with much spluttering,
and pitching away his empty glass, sprang towards the door, with
justifiable homicide in every movement.

"Mr. Ziegler!" Audrey appealed to him, snatching at his dress-coat and
sticking to it.

He turned, furious, his face still dripping the finest Pilsener beer.

"If your dress-coat is not wiped instantly, it will be ruined," said
Audrey.

"_Ach! Meiner Frack!_" exclaimed Mr. Ziegler, forgetting his deep knowledge
of English. His economic instincts had been swiftly aroused, and they
dominated all the other instincts. "_Meiner Frack!_ Vill you vipe it?" His
glance was imploring.

"Oh! Mrs. Spatt will attend to it," said Audrey with solemnity, and walked
out of the room into the hall. There was not a sign of Musa; the
disappearance of the violinist was disquieting; and yet it made her
glad--so much so that she laughed aloud. A few moments later Mr. Ziegler
stalked forth from the house which he was never to enter again, and his
silent scorn and the grandeur of his displeasure were terrific. He entirely
ignored Audrey, who had nevertheless been the means of saving his _Frack_
for him.

CHAPTER XXVI

NOCTURNE

Soon afterwards Audrey, who had put on a hat, went out with Mr. Spatt to
look for Musa. Not until shortly before the musical performance had the
Spatts succeeded in persuading Musa to "accept their hospitality for the
night." (The phrase was their own. They were incapable of saying "Let us
put you up.") Meanwhile his bag had been left in the hall. This bag had now
vanished. The parlourmaid, questioned, said frigidly that she had not
touched it because she had received no orders to touch it. Musa himself
must therefore have removed it. With bag in one hand and fiddle case in the
other, he must have fled, relinquishing nothing but the mute in his flight.
He knew naught of England, naught of Frinton, and he was the least
practical creature alive. Hence Audrey, who was in essence his mother, and
who knew Frinton as some people know London, had said that she would go and
look for him. Mr. Spatt, ever chivalrous, had impulsively offered to
accompany her. He could indeed do no less. Mrs. Spatt, overwhelmed by the
tragic sequel to her innocent triumphant, had retired to the first floor.

The wind blew, and it was very dark, as Audrey and her squire passed along
Third Avenue to the front. They did not converse--they were both too shy