Mrs. Bernauer wrung her hands and gazed with despairing eyes at the man who sat before her, himself deeply moved.
Again there was a long silence. Muller could not find a word to comfort the weeping woman. There was no longer anger in his heart, nothing but the deepest pity. He took out his handkerchief and wiped away the drops that were dimming his own eyes.
“You know that I will have to go to Venice?” he asked.
Mrs. Bernauer sprang up. “Officially?” she gasped, pale to her lips.
He nodded. “Yes, officially of course. I must make a report at once to headquarters about what I have learned. You can imagine yourself what the next steps will be.”
Her deep sigh showed him that she knew as well as he. In the same second, however, a thought shot through her brain, changing her whole being. Her pale face glowed, her dulled eyes shot fire, and the fingers with which she held Muller’s hand tightly clasped, were suddenly feverishly hot.
“And you—you are still the only person who knows the truth?” she gasped in his ear.
The detective nodded. “And you thought you might silence me?” he asked calmly. “That will not be easy—for you can imagine that I did not come unarmed.”
Adele Bernauer smiled sadly. “I would take even this way to save Herbert Thorne from disgrace, if I thought that it could be successful, and if I had not thought of a milder way to silence a man who cannot be a millionaire. I have served in this house for thirty-two years, I have been treated with such generosity that I have been able to save almost every cent of my wages for my old age. With the interest that has rolled up, my little fortune must amount to nearly eight thousand gulden. I will gladly give it to you, if you will but keep silence, if you will not tell what you have discovered.” She spoke gaspingly and sank down on her knees before she had finished.
“And Mr. Thorne also—” she continued hastily, as she saw no sign of interest in Muller’s calm face. Then her voice failed her.