"A governess? With which family? Perhaps I know them."

"A Swede called Per Petersen. Do you live in Kiel?"

"Yes. And I know Per Petersen. His wife died six months ago."

"That was when our friend became the governess of his children."

"I see. Yes, I remember something about that. How curious our meeting like this."

"Yes, isn't it?" said the blonde. "Will you forgive me if I speak to my friend in Swedish? I find it rather a strain to go on in German."

"Of course. Please do so."

"Do you speak Swedish yourself?"

"Unfortunately not."

The blonde crossed her legs. "Fortunately," she said in Swedish, "not unfortunately. What do you think of him?"

"Very nice," said the red-head. "Young, tall, handsome. Yes, nice."

"Very nice indeed," said the blonde, drawing her breath through her lips. "I want him." The red-head turned quickly in her seat. "No! For God's sake,-get a hold on yourself. Don't be stupid. This is our ride to Kiel, without any further trouble."

"I want him," repeated the blonde stubbornly. She drew the pistol out of her pocket and covered it on her lap with her hands.

"Are you completely off your head?" said the red-head angrily. "Put that thing away. Do try to control your damn nymphomania!"

"I want him," said the other again. She spoke in a voice that was almost without expression. "And you can do to him the things that you like doing."

"I don't want to do anything to him at all."

"Don't you? What about that lovely whip in your bag that's crying out to be used? And what about the dildo?"

"You really are absolutely mad! Don't you remember? You told him where we're going. You told him we're going to Per Petersen's house to see Margarete."

"So what? Don't you want to use your lovely whip?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake! I couldn't now, even if I did want to. He knows who we are."