After his interview with Mr. Treffry, Herr Paul took a bath, perfumed himself with precision, and caused it to be clearly understood that, under circumstances such as these, a man’s house was not suited for a pig to live in.  He shortly afterwards went out to the Kurbaus, and had not returned by dinner-time.

Christian came down for dinner.  There were crimson spots in her cheeks, dark circles round her eyes; she behaved, however, as though nothing had happened.  Miss Naylor, affected by the kindness of her heart and the shock her system had sustained, rolled a number of bread pills, looking at each as it came, with an air of surprise, and concealing it with difficulty.  Mr. Treffry was coughing, and when he talked his voice seemed to rumble even more than usual.  Greta was dumb, trying to catch Christian’s eye; Mrs. Decie alone seemed at ease.  After dinner Mr. Treffry went off to his room, leaning heavily on Christian’s shoulder.  As he sank into his chair, he said to her: 

“Pull yourself together, my dear!” Christian did not answer him.

Outside his room Greta caught her by the sleeve.

“Look!” she whispered, thrusting a piece of paper into Christian’s hand.  “It is to me from Dr. Edmund, but you must read it.”

Christian opened the note, which ran as follows: 

“My philosopher and friend,—­I received your note, and went to our friend’s studio; he was not in, but half an hour ago I stumbled on him in the Platz.  He is not quite himself; has had a touch of the sun—­nothing serious:  I took him to my hotel, where he is in bed.  If he will stay there he will be all right in a day or two.  In any case he shall not elude my clutches for the present.

“My warm respects to Mistress Christian.—­Yours in friendship and philosophy, “Edmund Dawney.”

Christian read and re-read this note, then turned to Greta.

“What did you say to Dr. Dawney?”

Greta took back the piece of paper, and replied:  “I said: 

“’Dear Dr. Edmund,—­We are anxious about Herr Harz.  We think he is perhaps not very well to-day.  We (I and Christian) should like to know.  You can tell us.  Please shall you?  Greta.’

“That is what I said.”

Christian dropped her eyes.  “What made you write?”

Greta gazed at her mournfully:  “I thought—­O Chris! come into the garden. 
I am so hot, and it is so dull without you!”

Christian bent her head forward and rubbed her cheek against Greta’s, then without another word ran upstairs and locked herself into her room.  The child stood listening; hearing the key turn in the lock, she sank down on the bottom step and took Scruff in her arms.

Half an hour later Miss Naylor, carrying a candle, found her there fast asleep, with her head resting on the terrier’s back, and tear stains on her cheeks....