“‘Then take him down, under some pretext or other, and I will search his cell in the meanwhile.’”
“Halloa, halloa!” said Cornelius, “But this Mr. Jacob of yours is a villain, it seems.”
“I am afraid he is.”
“Tell me, Rosa,” continued Cornelius, with a pensive air.
“What?”
“Did not you tell me, that on the day when you prepared your border this man followed you?”
“So he did.”
“That he glided like a shadow behind the elder-trees?”
“Certainly.”
“That not one of your movements escaped him?”
“Not one, indeed.”
“Rosa,” said Cornelius, growing quite pale.
“Well?”
“It was not you he was after.”
“Who else, then?”
“It is not you that he is in love with!”
“But with whom else?”
“He was after my bulb, and is in love with my tulip!”
“You don't say so!—and yet it is very possible,” said Rosa.
“Will you make sure of it?”
“In what manner?”
“Oh! It would be very easy.”
“Tell me.”
“Go to-morrow into the garden; manage matters so that Jacob may know, as he did the first time, that you are going there, and that he may follow you. Feign to put the bulb in the ground; leave the garden; but look through the keyhole of the door and watch him.”
