Paul went fearlessly in, while Steinmetz stood
in the door-way, holding open the door.
As he was standing there he perceived a flickering light approaching
him. The light was evidently that of an ordinary hand-lantern, and from
the swinging motion it was easy to divine that it was being carried by
some one who was walking quickly.
"Who is this?" asked Steinmetz.
"It is likely to be the Countess Catrina, Excellency."
Steinmetz glanced back into the cottage, which was dark save for the
light of a single petroleum lamp. Paul's huge form could be dimly
distinguished bending over a heap of humanity and foul clothing in a
corner.
"Does she visit the cottages?" asked Steinmetz sharply.
"She does, God be with her! She has no fear. She is an angel. Without
her we should all be dead."
"She won't visit this, if I can help it," muttered Steinmetz.
The light flickered along the road toward them. In the course of a few
minutes it fell on the stricken cottage, on the starosta standing in the
road, on Steinmetz in the door-way.
"Herr Steinmetz, is that you?" asked a voice, deep and musical, in the
darkness.
"Zum Befehl," answered Steinmetz, without moving.
Catrina came up to him. She was clad in a long dark cloak, a dark hat,
and wore no gloves. She brought with her a clean aromatic odor of
disinfectants.
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