"Why, I thought that she might be ill also because you said yourself that the housekeeper - what did you say her name was?""Bernauer, Mrs. Adele Bernauer. She was a widow when she came to take care of the master. Her husband was a sergeant of artillery.""Well, I mean," continued Muller, "you said yourself that when the gentleman's parents died, Mrs. Bernauer was a fine active woman, therefore I supposed she was no longer so."Franz thought the matter over for a while. "I don't know just why I put it that way. Indeed she's still as active as ever and always fresh and well. It's true that for the last two or three days she's been very nervous and since yesterday it is as if she was a changed woman. She must be ill, I don't know how to explain it otherwise.""What seems to be the matter with her?" asked Muller and then to explain his interest in the housekeeper's health, he fabricated a story: "I studied medicine at one time and although I didn't finish my course or get a diploma, I've always had a great interest in such things, and every now and then I'll take a case, particularly nervous diseases. That was my specialty." Muller took up his glass and turned away from the window, for be felt a slow flush rising to his cheeks. It was another of Muller's peculiarities that he always felt an inward embarrassment at the lies he was obliged to tell in his profession.
The butler did not seem to have noticed it however, and appeared eager to tell of what concerned him in the housekeeper's appearance and demeanour. "Why, yesterday at dinner time was the first that we began to notice anything wrong with Mrs. Bernauer. The rest of us, that is, Lizzie the upstairs girl, the cook and myself. She began to eat her dinner with a good appetite, then suddenly, when we got as far as the pudding, she let her fork fall and turned deathly white. She got up without saying a word and left the room.
Lizzie ran after her to ask if anything was the matter, but she said no, it was nothing of importance. After dinner, she went right out, saying she was doing some errands. She brought in a lot of newspapers, which was quite unusual, for she sometimes does not look at a newspaper once a week even. I wouldn't have noticed it but Lizzie's the kind that sees and hears everything and she told us about it." Franz stopped to take a drink, and Muller said indifferently, "I suppose Mrs. Bernauer was interested in the murder case. The whole neighbourhood seems to be aroused about it.""No, I don't think that was it," answered the old servant, "because then she would have sent for a paper this morning too.""And she didn't do that?"
"No, unless she might have gone out for it herself. There's a news stand right next door here. But I don't think she did because Iwould have seen the paper around the house then.""And is that all that's the matter with her?" asked Muller in a tone of disappointment. "Why, I thought you'd have something really interesting to tell me.""Oh, no, that isn't all, sir," exclaimed the old man eagerly.
Muller leaned forward, really interested now, while Franz continued:
"She was uneasy all the afternoon yesterday. She walked up and down stairs and through the halls - I remember Lizzie making some joke about it - and then in the evening to our surprise she suddenly began a great rummaging in the first story.""Is that where she lives ?"
"Oh, no; her room is in the wing out towards the garden. The rooms on the first floor all belong to the master and mistress. This morning we found out that Mrs. Bernauer's cleaning up of the evening before had been done because she remembered that the master wanted to take some papers with him but couldn't find them and had asked her to look for them and send them right on.""Well, I shouldn't call that a sign of any particular nervousness, but rather an evidence of Mrs. Bernaner's devotion to her duty.""Oh, yes, sir - but it certainly is queer that she should go into the garden at four o'clock this morning and appear to be looking for something along the paths and under the bushes. Even if a few of the papers blew out of the window, or blew away from the summer house, where the master writes sometimes, they couldn't have scattered all over the garden like that."Muller didn't follow up this subject any longer. There might come a time when he would be interested in finding out the reason for the housekeeper's search in the garden, but just at present he wanted something else. He remembered some remark of the old man's about the "poor little dog," and on this he built his plan.
"Oh, well," he said carelessly, "almost everybody is nervous and impatient now-a-days. I suppose Mrs. Bernauer felt uneasy because she couldn't find the paper right away. There's nothing particularly interesting or noticeable about that. Anyway, I've been occupying myself much more these last years with sick animals rather than with sick people. I've had some very successful cures there.""No, really, have you? Then you could do us a great favour,"exclaimed Franz in apparent eagerness. Muller's heart rejoiced. He had apparently hit it right this time. He knew that in a house like that "a poor dog" could only mean a "sick dog." But his voice was quite calm as he asked: "How can I do you a favour?""Why, you see, sir, we've got a little terrier," explained the old man, who had quite forgotten the fact that he had mentioned the dog before. "And there's been something the matter with the poor little chap for several days. He won't eat or drink, he bites at the grass and rolls around on his stomach and cries - it's a pity to see him.
If you're fond of animals and know how to take care of them, you may be able to help us there.""You want me to look at the little dog? Why, yes, I suppose I can.""We'll appreciate it," said the old man with an embarrassed smile.
