went off, sullen and morose, and not a little chaffed for his
moroseness by his friends.

The tap-room was almost deserted for the moment. In one or two corners
only a few stragglers lingered; they were sprawling across the tables
with arms outstretched. Ignacz Goldstein's silvorium had proved too
potent and too plentiful. They lay there in a drunken sleep--logs that
were of no account. Presently they would have to be thrown out, but
there was no hurry for that--they were not in the way.

Ignacz Goldstein had gone into the next room. Klara was busy tidying up
the place; Leopold approached her with well-feigned contrition and
humility.

"I am sorry, Klara," he said. "I seemed to have had the knack to-night
of constantly annoying you. So I'd best begone now, perhaps."

"I bear no malice, Leo," she said quietly.

"I thought I'd come back at about nine o'clock," he continued. "It is
nearly eight now."

She, thinking that he had his own journey in mind, remarked casually:

"You'd best be here well before nine. The train leaves at nine-twenty,
and father walks very slowly."

"I won't be late," he said. "Best give me the key of the back door. I'll
let myself in that way."

"No occasion to do that," she retorted. "The front door will be open.
You can come in that way like everybody else."

"It's just a fancy," he said quietly; "there might be a lot of people
about just then. I don't want to come through here. I thought I'd just
slip in the back way as I often do. So give me the key, Klara, will
you?"

"How can I give you the key of the back door?" she said, equally
quietly; "you know father always carries it in his coat pocket."

"But there is a second key," he remarked, "which hangs on a nail by your
father's bedside in the next room. Give me that one, Klara."

"I shan't," she retorted. "I never heard such nonsense! As if I could
allow you to use the private door of this house just as it suits your
fancy. If you want to come in to-night and say good-bye, you must come
in by the front door."

"It's just a whim of mine, Klara," urged Leopold, now still speaking
quietly--almost under his breath--but there was an ominous tremor in his
voice and sudden sharp gleams in his eyes which the girl had already
noted and which caused the blood to rush back to her heart, leaving her
cheeks pale and her lips trembling.

"Nonsense!" she contrived to say, with an indifferent shrug of the
shoulders.

"Just a whim," he reit