Since finding him asleep in the hallway, she had persuaded him to allow her to look after his key, so was able to let herself in and get comfortable while she waited for him to return from the inn. She was so comfortable, in fact, that she slept soundly, not waking until the clock in the square struck midnight. She came to groggily, cursing Hans for keeping such hours. But this was late even for him. The thought crossed her mind that, once again, he might have keeled over before reaching his bed. Muttering oaths, she stepped into her shoes, secreted the knife about her person, and made her way out of the hotel in search of her brother. On the doorstep of the hotel she collided with a small stout fellow whom she recognized as her traveling companion of a few days earlier. “Good evening, Herr Bechstein,” she said in as normal and casual a voice as she could muster. The businessman stared at her, clearly at a loss. Gretel tried to help him out. “The stagecoach from Gesternstadt?” Bechstein nodded, seemingly reassured by this information.
