I thought: Shall I tell them about last night? And then I thought: No, I can’t; it’s not the time for it. Besides, I wanted to forget it, if I could—it was too dark, too overwhelming. So I joined in with the cooking. This must have been the biggest breakfast the Jolly Huntsman had ever served—the place was bursting. And all the familiarity of the dishes, the cutlery, the warm, friendly smells and sounds seemed to bathe away the bad memories of the night like a warm bath. Hannerl and I served the breakfast and washed the dishes, and got it done quickly, since there were two of us; though most of the guests weren’t in any frame of mind to linger. They all had their minds on the contest.

As soon as I could, I went out to see what was going on. The contest was to be held on the village green; and there were a couple of men there already, putting up a platform for the Mayor, with a striped awning over it. I stood and watched them for a minute and then walked on. I couldn’t help it; I was nervous. Nervous for Peter, for Frau Wenzel and Susi (would Frau Muller and the secretary come back?) and, most of all, nervous for Lucy and Charlotte.

But the first people on the green, apart from the workmen and myself, were none other than Max and Eliza. I didn’t notice them at first; they were sitting under the trees, and looking mighty despondent. I rushed up and greeted them, and a pair of long faces turned to look up at me.

“What happened last night?” they said, so I had to go through the whole tale and they oohed and aahed in all the right places. But they hadn’t seen the girls or Peter either, so when I’d finished, I sat down on the bench beside them and began to share some of their gloom.

“We’re in a fine old pickle, Eliza, me love,” said Max.

“It’s awful, Max!” she said. “Your master arrested, and—”

“I’d forgotten about him,” I said.

“ ’Tis the injustice of fate, Hildi, that’s what it is,” he said. “Everything happens at once, and all of it’s bad.”

“I’m sure Miss Davenport’ll never come back,” said Eliza miserably.

“Why ever not?” I said.

“I had a strange feeling as she left yesterday,” she said. “It was a kind of a galloping feeling in my heart. I used to have a little kitten once, and I had this galloping feeling one day, and three weeks later the kitten was dead. It just died, just like that, under mysterious circumstances. I’m sure Miss Davenport will have fallen over the edge of a cliff…”