“It seems as if he had a wife, your ladyship; but I really cannot say for certain if he has one.”

“Well, I confess my curiosity is aroused!  How is it possible not to know whether the man is married or not?  Are the people invisible?”

“Invisible?  By no means, your ladyship.  The nameless count and a lady drive out every morning at ten o’clock.  They drive as far as the neighboring village, where they turn and come back to the castle.  But the lady wears such a heavy veil that one can’t tell if she be old or young.”

“If they drive out they certainly have a coachman; and one might easily learn from a servant what are the relations between his master and mistress.”

“Yes, so one might.  The coachman comes often to the village, and he can speak German, too.  There is a fat cook, who never leaves the castle, because she can’t walk.  Then, there are two more servants, Schmidt and his wife; but they live in a cottage near the castle.  Every morning at five o’clock they go to the castle gate, where they receive from some one, through the wicket, orders for the day.  At nine o’clock they return to the gate, where a basket has been placed for the things they have bought.  But they never speak of the lady, because they have never seen her face, either.”

“What sort of a man is the groom?”

“The people about here call him the man with the iron mouth.  It is believed the fat cook is his wife, because he never even looks at the girls in the village.  He will not answer any questions; only once he condescended to say that his mistress was a penniless orphan, who had nothing, yet who got everything she wanted.”

“Does no one visit them?”

“If any one goes to the castle, the count alone receives the visitor; the lady never appears; and no one has yet had courage enough to ask for her.  But that they are Christians, one may know from their kitchen:  there is always a lamb for dinner on Easter; and the usual heiligen Stritzel on All Saints’.  But they never go to church, nor is the pastor ever received at the castle.”

“What reason can they have for so much mystery, I wonder?” musingly observed the baroness.

“That I cannot say.  I can furnish only the data; for the deductions I must refer your ladyship to the Herr Doctor.”

“Ah, true!” ejaculated her ladyship, joining in the general laughter.  “The doctor, to be sure!  If you are the county clock, Herr Doctor, surely you ought to know something about our mysterious neighbors?”

“I have two versions, either of which your ladyship is at liberty to accept,” promptly responded the doctor.  “According to the first ‘authentic’ declaration, the nameless count is the chief of a band of robbers, who ply their nefarious trade in a foreign land.  The lady is his mistress.  She fell once into the hands of justice, in Germany, and was branded as a criminal on her forehead.  That accounts for the heavy veil she always wears—­”