connect Bauer with the house. Muttering an oath in my exasperation, I was about to pass on, when an old woman put her head out of the door and looked round. I was full in front of her. I am sure that the old woman started slightly, and I think that I did. For I knew her, and she knew me. She was old mother Holf, one of whose sons, Johann, had betrayed to us the secret of the dungeon at Zenda, while the other had died by Mr. Rassendyll's hand by the side of the great pipe that masked the King's window. Her presence might mean nothing, yet it seemed to connect the house at once with the secret of the past and the crisis of the present.
She recovered herself in a moment, and curtseyed to me.
"Ah, mother Holf," said I, "how long is it since you set up shop in Strelsau?"
"About six months, my lord," she answered, with a composed air and arms akimbo.
"I have not come across you before," said I, looking keenly at her.
"Such a poor little shop as mine would not be likely to secure your lordship's patronage," she answered, in a humility that seemed only half genuine.
I looked up at the windows. They were all closed and had their wooden lattices shut. The house was devoid of any signs of life.
