“Next!” he shouted, and the man at the head of the queue stepped forward and showed him some papers. I didn’t know what it could be about, so I went into the kitchen and asked Ma.

“Search me,” she said. “The sergeant’s got some silly idea that there’s a famous criminal about, so he’s got everyone in the tavern to come and show him their papers. What a fuss! And I dread to think what Peter must be doing down there—he’ll be listening to all the noise, and he’ll be dying to come up and have a look, and I daren’t go down and tell him what’s going on in case the sergeant takes it into his head to come into the kitchen. Oh, I could throttle that boy, I could honestly! The trouble he’s caused! And what are you doing down here, anyway? That lady sent you down here for her bags, has she?”

“What lady?” I said; I was trying to get a word in edgewise and tell her about the girls, in the hope that she might be able to help—but now she was peering through the kitchen door again. “Ma!” I called her. “What lady d’you mean?”

“Hasn’t she come up to the castle, then? I thought you’d have met her on the way down. The sergeant sent her off with Constable Winkelburg, because she didn’t have the right papers, and she told him what to do with himself—powerful way with words, she had—and she said to one and all that she was going to escape from the constable and that no one was going to prevent her from going up to the castle to pay her respects to Count Karlstein and visit her girls.”

“Her girls? For goodness’ sake, who is she?”

“Miss Davenport, her name is. She used to be a teacher in England—Cheltenheim, or somewhere. She used to teach Miss Lucy and Miss Charlotte. She’s traveling, and she thought she’d call in and pay ’em a visit—why, what’s the matter?”

Because I’d had to sit down in astonishment. Their teacher! Come to see them! And now she was going up to the castle, and—

I’d have to go and talk to her. If I hurried, I might be able to catch her. “Which way did Constable Winkelburg take her?” I said.