He must go.
Some one was knocking on the door.
"Come in." "A letter for your excellency," said the concierge.
"Wait till I read it.

There may be an answer." "If Herr Carmichael would learn the secret of number forty Krumerweg, let him attire himself as a vintner and be in the Krumerweg at eight o'clock to-night." This note was as welcome to the recipient as the flowers in the spring.
An adventure?
He was ready, now and always.

Anything to take his mind off his own dismal affairs.

Then he recalled the woman in black; the letter could apply to none but her.

More than this, he might light upon the puzzle regarding the vintner.