facing the sea. They were waited on by a stolid-faced servant whose expression became positively ominous when he was pouring the wine. About them lay the brilliant northern night.
"Well?" Leisenbohg asked, as a sudden wave of impatience came over him.
"I am a lost man," Sigurd said, staring in front of him.
"How do you mean?" Leisenbohg asked tonelessly. "And how can I help you?" he added mechanically.
"Not much. I have no idea." And he gazed over the tablecloth, over the banisters, the garden, the trellis, the street, the sea . . . into nothing.
Leisenbohg became inwardly paralyzed. . . . All sorts of thoughts shot through him. . . . What could have happened? . . . Was Kläre dead? . . . Had Sigurd murdered her? . . . Yet no, that was impossible. . . . There he was, sit- ting in front of him. . . . But why did he not go on? And suddenly, oppressed with an egregious anxiety, Lelsenbohg groaned, "Where is Kläre?"
The singer turned towards him slowly. His somewhat heavy face lit up; he seemed to be smiling—unless it was the effect of the moonlight. In any case Leisenbohg found at this moment that the man who was sitting opposite him, leaning back with both hands in his pockets, his legs stretched out beneath the table, and this veiled expression on his face, resembled nothing in the world more closely than a Pierrot. The green plaid was hanging on the banister, and seemed to the Baron at this moment like a dear old friend. But what did this ridiculous plaid have to do with him? Perhaps he was dreaming? . . . He was in Molde. Strangely enough. . . . If he had been wise he would simply have telegraphed the singer from Aix, "What is wrong? What do you want of me, Pierrot?" And he suddenly repeated his previous question, although more politely and with more patience, "Where is Kläre?"
The singer nodded several times. "To be sure, the whole thing involves her. Are you my friend?"
Leisenbohg nodded. He felt a slight chill. A warm wind was blowing in from the sea. "I am your friend. What do you want of me?"
"Do you remember the evening we last saw each other, Baron? We had supper together at the Bristol and you went with me to the station."
