"I'm sorry," the short woman exclaimed in shock and surprise as she collided with the deeply thinking monk. "I must not have been looking where I was going."
Brother Timothy came out of his trance and collected himself. "Not at all gnadige Frau," he said, bowing slightly, "it was all my fault." Then he took a closer look at the woman he had almost knocked off her feet. "Frau Druer, is it not?"
"Brother Timothy," she replied with wisp of a smile, "you recognized me."
"How could I not," the monk said in his most charming voice, "I have supped several times at your husband's table. I must complement you on keeping such a fine kitchen." The compliment had its desired effect and the good Frau simpered and blushed.
"Thank you Brother Timothy."
"Please give my regards to your husband."
"I will," she said, but there was a reluctance in her voice that did not correspond to the words.
"It was good to have met you," responded the monk.
"Likewise," Frau Druer replied, and once again Brother Timothy thought he detected a slight hesitation. But having no further business with the wine merchant's wife, he bowed again and walked on his way, wondering at the co-incidence of their meeting and the discomfort he had detected about their conversation. It was this suspicion that made him turn and look back up the street.
After brushing off her coat with a gloved hand, Frau Druer adjusted her hat, pulled a black veil down over her face, looked around her, then darted into the doorway of a small, disreputable pivince at the corner of Skryta street and a grimy alleyway. This was definitely not the sort of place a good burger's wife should be frequenting, and her actions betrayed the fact that she knew it.
"Humm," thought Brother Timothy to himself, and he began to retrace his footsteps.