We were greeted inside the residence by a stout woman with her hair tucked under a scarf, bright color on her cheeks, and a bucket and mop in her hands.
She smiled broadly as she greeted Karl.
“My friends,” he explained. “We need two rooms.”
She nodded and there was a brief conversation in German, then a smile as she rounded a narrow counter that looked as if it might be as old as the residence, and produced two room keys.
“I have known her and her husband for several years. She will say nothing if anyone should ask,” Karl assured us as we climbed the narrow stone steps to the second floor.
The two rooms were across from each other in the old house.
The walls were stone with an arched window that looked out on the street below. Wide dark timbers made up the floor. The furnishings were of dark wood as well, a simple table and chairs.
The bed against the wall was quite high, made of that same dark timber with thick bedding, and I did wonder who might have slept in it.
“He did say that she kept a verra clean house,” Brodie reminded me.
That was some reassurance that there wouldn’t be more than the two of us in that bed.
The waiting for some word from Herr Wagner, that I would be allowed to participate in the auction of the documents, seemed interminable.
As I waited in the common room downstairs, Frau Meier, the proprietress of the house, inquired if I had any laundry that needed washing. I provided her a shirt and socks of Brodie’s, along with a shirtwaist of mine.
In broken English, she inquired if I had any additional clothing items with something that sounded very much like ‘underthings.’
I assured her that I would wash them myself. She retreated with Brodie’s socks and the shirts, and a definite sniff as if she was insulted.
I had only my shift and my slip which was much the worse for wear after using a portion of it to bandage poor Alex.
As for other ‘underthings,’ I rarely wore pantaloons as they were far too bulky and cumbersome. Brodie seemed to appreciate it.
“Has anyone ever told ye that ye are a wanton wench.”
“Only yourself,”I had replied. “No one else would ever be the wiser, as I do not have a maid, and I most certainly do not lift my skirts for just anyone.”
That had promptly ended the conversation in a most interesting way as we were in my great-aunt’s private coach at the time.
Now we waited, and continued to wait.
Herr Schneider was most entertaining with stories that I only half understood. It did seem that he had led a most interesting life with an assortment of ‘professions,’ some which brought him into disagreement with the authorities.
He had taken the advice of his sister, or possibly by threat, that he needed to mend his ways if he hoped to be allowed to join them in England. That led to his training with a local butcher in his district who had known the family.
He made a decent living and there was the promise of taking over the business when the owner could no longer work.However, as he pointed out, that might be another twenty years. And there was always the threat of the authorities that hung over his head.
I didn’t inquire what the crimes were. It was possibly best not to know.
Brodie went back to the Hotel Frankfurt midafternoon to inquire about messages, however, there was no word from Herr Wagner. As the hours passed, it did seem as if our scheme might not have been acceptable to the other parties who were to participate in the auction.
“Any word?” I inquired when he returned once more from the hotel very near nine o’clock in the evening. Yet, I could tell the answer by the expression on his face.
“It is possible that we may be forced to return to London empty-handed.”
We were alone in our room after a simple late meal of sausage and potatoes.
“If we are not successful in gaining entrance to the auction, it will go on as planned with the documents sold to the highest bidder and they will disappear.”
To be used for heaven knew what purpose.
