"Too late, master," replied the landlord of the Trumpeter, in a surly tone, for he did not much like the appearance of his customer; "just shut up shop. “You wish me to stay?” he asked, in a low tone. He dared not go on. “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time. ‘Ah, the tragedy. He needed to laugh, but only she laughed as he chuckled weakly. It was common name, so I was thrown off the scent. I'll proclaim his misdoings to the world; and, then, we shall see where he'll stand. “You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers.
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