"Now about your future. I'll keep my word to you. The stolen paper and your keys shall be returned to your father's office as the price of Baron von Ringheim's pardon. I shall see your father and show him what you have written about it all; and you know well enough that no harm will come to you through him as the result. Are you listening?"
A feeble gesture of the hand was his only response.
"You'd better, for your life hangs on your understanding all I say and doing what I tell you. Your admission of the murder I shall keep a dead secret"--he started at that, raised himself on his elbow and looked across at me--"on one condition. You must be out of the country within twenty-four hours. If I find you here at the end of that time I shall hand it to the police."
With a deep breath of relief he sank back. "I'll go; but I've--I've no money."
"I'll find you enough to get away with"; and I laid a sum on the table; "and as soon as you are across the frontier you can communicate with your friends."
The assurance that he was to have a chance to save his worthless skin had a surprisingly invigorating effect upon him. Now that the suspense was over and he knew the worst which could befall him, he was greatly relieved. He got up and lighted a cigarette. "Don't go yet," he said.
I was at the door and turned.
"I've made an awful mess of things," he went on.
"I don't want to discuss the ethics of your conduct," I retorted.
"I'll go straight now. I'll prove it to you in a minute. But I want you to know that I didn't go to Ziegler's with any intention of killing him. I went to get off that marriage with the daughter; and it was only when we quarrelled and he made me mad that I did it. He threatened me."