“Yes, that would free me from all care,” he murmured as if taking counsel with himself. “Anne’s husband.... But who is it to be?”
Otto Füger smiled modestly. He took his spectacles off, breathed on them and wiped them while holding them up to his left eye.
John Hubert, for reasons unknown to him, thought of the son of Martin George Münster. Charles Münster would bring capital into the business, he had brains....
He clapped Otto Füger on the shoulder.
“Thank you!”
Young Füger looked after him dejected. He had expected something else.
Next day Christopher left the old house. And at the pier of the Danube Thomas Illey waited in vain for Anne.
White frost fell over the autumn roses in the garden.
CHAPTER XIV
Rain had collected in the gargoyle and gave off a hopeless gurgle as if someone were sobbing under the steep double roof.