As we went in a round faced woman appeared from the kitchen. She was in a large, very clean print apron and her sleeves were rolled up; she carried a ladle in her hands.

Daisy flew at her. "Gisela!" she cried.

"Daisy ..."

Daisy turned to me. "This is my good friend, Gisela Wurtzer, who has been looking after Hansie for me."

The woman smiled and looked conspiratorially at Hans.

"He's here!" cried Daisy. "My little Hans is here."

She flew up the stairs and Hans looked at me and smiled. "She missed her baby," he said, "but I thought she should take the opportunity to see her mother and her father. There is a duty to the parents when they are getting old, eh?"

I agreed that this was so and Gisela nodded to imply that that was her opinion also. Daisy came down the stairs holding a sturdy boy who was rubbing his eyes and looking a little cross because he had obviously been wakened from his sleep.

"Look at him, Miss—" She had been going to say Pip and stopped herself in time. "Now tell me, did you ever see a more beautiful boy?"

"Never!" I cried.

She kissed him fervently and now, fully awake, he regarded me from a pair of light-blue eyes.

I took his fat little hand and kissed it.

"He likes you," said Gisela.

"It's true," agreed Daisy. "He's a very sharp young fellow. How's he been, Gisela? Missing his mum?"

Hans had to translate most of Daisy's words, which were spoken in English, and as Gisela had no English, conversation was a little difficult. But the rapport between the two women was obvious.

"Tell her how good it was of her to bring him so that I didn't have to wait," commanded Daisy.

Gisela smiled when she heard. "But of course I brought him," she said.

I had to hear of all the wonderful qualities of young Hans, which I did in English from Daisy and in German from Gisela and Hans.

"Gisela knows," said Hans, "for she is especially good with children."

"I should be," replied Gisela. "I have six of my own. Numbers help. The big ones look after the little ones."

Young Hans showed signs of wanting to return to his bed, so Daisy took him upstairs and Gisela, who had set the table, said that food was ready. We partook of a soup of a rather mysterious but delicious flavour with rye bread, after which there was cold pork with vegetables and to follow, a pie containing apples. It was a good meal and Gisela was clearly proud of it. She served it and ate with us while we talked of the journey, and then she said she must get back because Arnulf did not like to be left too long to look after the children.

Hans walked home with her.

"Now you see, Miss Pip," said Daisy when we were alone, "what a nice little situation I've got myself into."

"I do, Daisy," I replied. "But shouldn't you stop calling me Miss Pip?"

"I must. Miss Ayres sounds so funny. Not a bit like you. Miss Pip is just right. It won't matter much if I get a slip of the tongue. That's what is so good about this. You say something you shouldn't and you just blame the language. It helps the wheels go round."

"Oh, Daisy, how happy you must be. Hans is so good and the baby such a darling."

"Well, as I say, Miss P—I mean Miss Ayres—I reckon I've done pretty well for myself."

"You deserve all the good luck in the world."

"Well, come to think of it, you could use a bit yourself and by rights you ought to have it."

She showed me my room. It was very small with chintz curtains, a bed, a chair and a cupboard ... very little else, but I was grateful for it.

"We don't use it often," she said apologetically. "It's to be for young Hans when he gets a little older. In the meantime his bed's in the very small room next to ours and that'll be all right for a few months more."

"I shall be gone by then."

"Don't talk about going. You've only just come." Daisy had turned to me, her eyes shining. "It's ever so exciting, you coming here like this. I reckon we'll make a fine pair of detectives, you and me." She paused. "You know Gisela ... well, she was caretaker at the lodge... . Still keeps an eye on it, you know."

"Daisy!" I cried. "Well then she might know—"

"Don't you think we've talked? She doesn't know any more than anyone else. I haven't found out anything from her because she doesn't know."

"No one ... however friendly ... must know why I'm here."

"Trust me," said Daisy. "Silent as the grave, that's me."

Hans returned and Daisy reckoned it was time we had a good night's sleep.

"We can talk in the morning," she added.

And we all agreed with her.

The next day I decided to explore the town. Daisy could not accompany me because she had her son to look after. When she went into the town one of the servants from the schloss would bring down a pony carriage which they used for short journeys and take her in. They did this twice a week so that she could shop. Hans, it seemed, now held quite an important position in the Graf's household which entitled him to such privileges.

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining on the green and red roofs of the houses and the grey walls of the schloss. Here and there the sharp flint edges twinkled like diamonds where the sun caught them.

I was in a mood of exultation. I had accomplished so much and I was certain that something tremendous would happen soon. I wondered what I should do if I came upon Conrad sauntering through the town. I knew so little of him. I did not even know his surname. He was simply Conrad to me. I must have been in a bemused state not to ask him more questions and to be so easily put off with eva­sions. Equerry to a nobleman! I wondered if that could be the Graf, as he had been staying at the Grange, although the house was used by several families, I believed. But if the Graf were his employer he might at this very moment be within those grey stone walls.

How wonderful it would be to see him again. I tried to imagine our greeting. Would he be surprised? Delighted? Had he perhaps dismissed me from his mind as the sort of woman a man meets, makes love to and rides away from ... forgotten in a few months ... even weeks ... just one of the women who amused him for a while?

I could see the bluish grey stream of the river winding its way through the town to where the slopes on either side were covered with pines and fir trees, and away in the distance the vines were growing in abundance. I was again transported to those days when Miss Elton read to us. There in the forest I knew I should hear the cowbells ringing through the mist. Miss Elton had told us of her visits to such places when she was taken to see her mother's people. There the gods roamed and the valkyries rode. I could sense it all. In that square I could see the mayor and his corporation sitting in dismayed discussion; I could see the Pied Piper playing his magic pipes and luring the rats into the river and the children into the mountainside. It moved me deeply. I was aware of much of the past. I pictured Francine coming here with Rudolph. I wondered how she had felt, whether she had been aware from the beginning that her liaison—I had ceased to call it a marriage in my thoughts—was to be kept a secret.

There were several large houses with oriel windows projecting from the facades and carved woodwork at these windows. It appeared to be a prosperous town. There was the minster with its pointed spire and around it streets of small houses. I guessed that many of the people who were not employed in the big houses worked in the vineyards. I passed a forge and a mill ... and then I was really in the town.

I wandered through the market, where dairy produce and vegetables were for sale. Some people looked at me rather curiously. They would know at once that I was a stranger and I guessed that they did not get a great many tourists here.

At length I came to an inn over which a sign creaked in the wind. It proclaimed itself to be the Grand Duke's Tavern. I saw stables which contained horses, and at the back of the inn there was a garden in which tables and chairs had been set up. I sat down at one of these and a plump smiling woman came out to ask what I should like.

I guessed it was one of the biergartens of which I had heard and I asked her for a tankard of beer, wondering as I did so whether women did this sort of thing here or whether I was acting strangely.

She brought me a goblet of beer and seemed inclined to talk.

"You are travelling through our town, Fraulein?"

"I am staying for a visit," I told her.

"That is very good. It is a beautiful town, eh?"

I agreed that it was. An idea had occurred to me. "I see you have horses here. It is not always easy to go round on foot. Do you hire out your horses?"

"There is not much call for it. But I think my husband might."

"I want to see something of the country. I ride a great deal at home in England. If I could hire a horse—"

"Where do you stay, if I may ask, Fraulein?"

"I am staying in a cottage. It belongs to Herr Schmidt. I am a friend of his wife."

"Ah!" A smile broke out on her face. "You speak of the good Hans. He is a very proud man. He has an English wife and a fine little boy."

"Oh yes ... young Hans."

"His wife—she is very nice."

"Very nice."

"And you are from the same country ... come to see your friend?"

"To see her and the baby and your beautiful country."

"Oh, it is very beautiful. You could see much on horseback. You are an experienced rider, Fraulein?"

"Yes, indeed. I ride a great deal at home."

"It will be arranged. There must be a charge."

"But of course."

"When you have drunk your beer you must see my husband."

"I will."

"He will be in the inn."

She seemed reluctant to leave me and I think she may have been a little fascinated by my foreign appearance and perhaps by my speech, for although I was fluent enough I guessed that my accent might betray my country of origin.

"Such nice places to visit," she went on. "You can go to the old ruined schloss which was the home of the Grand Dukes years ago. You can go to the shooting lodge ... Oh, but perhaps not."

"The shooting lodge?"

"Yes, it is the Grand Duke's lodge. You cannot see his schloss. No, it is not that one you see on the hill. That is the schloss of the Graf von Bindorf. The Grand Duke's can only be seen from the other side of the town. You cannot go in, of course, but there is a good view and that is worth seeing."

I said, "What about the shooting lodge?"

She lifted her shoulders. "There was a tragedy there," she said.

"You mean the one where the Baron was murdered?"

She nodded. "It was a few years ago."

"Is it near here?" I asked quickly.

"It is about a mile and a half from Herr Schmidt's cottage. You would not want to see it. It's dismal now. At one time ... oh, but there it is. No, you would not want to visit it now."

I did not reply. I was going to get that horse and see that shooting lodge just as soon as I possibly could.

I went to see the innkeeper before I left. Then I walked back to Daisy's cottage, having booked a horse for the next day. I was making progress. I was about to visit the scene of the crime.

I did not mention even to Daisy that I was about to visit the hunting lodge. I merely told her that I had been to the Grand Duke's Tavern and seen horses there and had decided to hire one to help me around to see the countryside. She was pleased because looking after the cottage and young Hans was really as much as she could find time for.

So accordingly, on the next day, I went into the town, and was soon riding back the way I had come, past Daisy's cottage, for the innkeeper's wife had said the lodge was a mile and a half from that spot.

I had known that Daisy's cottage was on the edge of the forest, so I was not surprised to find that after I had left it a little way behind, the trees grew closer together. There was only one path through them so I took it.

It was a beautiful morning. I made my way through the trees. Except for the occasional oak and birch, they were chiefly fir and pine and the resinous smell was strong in the air. I could not rid myself of the feeling that I had stepped into one of Miss Elton's fairy tales of the forest.

After I had ridden some way, I came to a cottage and I wondered if it was Gisela's. I was about to stop and ask, but I was anxious that no one should guess that I was unduly interested in the lodge ... even a friend of Daisy's.