could turn for help or address. I was the Knight, the protector, of the deserted lady.
Frau Walter dropped her hands from her tear filled eyes to her lap and spoke to me with lips that trembled. “God knows if we shall ever meet again!”
“Do not worry needlessly, dear Madam. This little piece of land which is Crimea is not so large. Somewhere in Bakschi Serai, Simferopol, Alupka or Kaffa, your husband will find the culprit. Everything will be cleared up. They will at once start for Ialta convinced that you will have gone to a hotel there to await their arrival.”
“Oh! Now I know that he never loved me. If he had, he could never have thought such a thing.”
“Justice demands that I defend your husband. The complication was so arranged that there was nothing else to think. If the contents of William's letter had left a doubt, your writing upon the back of that letter, would have removed it.”
“Oh, those fateful words!” she exclaimed taking out the tasteful little note-book. “This little book was my only friend. To its pages I confided my love for Heinrich. William asked me in Sevastopol for a piece of paper. I tore a leaf out
