Von Barwig could only stare at him in speechless astonishment. He was literally dumfounded. Young Cruger evidently saw this, for he seized Von Barwig's hand and shook it warmly.
"How do you do, Herr Von Barwig?" he said.
"Thank you, well! Sit down," the old man managed to gasp out, as he pointed to a chair. "You come from her, from Miss Stanton?" he articulated in a voice just loud enough to be heard by the younger man.
"Yes," said Beverly, taking off his gloves and placing them on the table. "I want to have a little talk with you. May I?"
Von Barwig did not answer his question.
"Did—she—did she send you?" he asked. His eyes glistened; his very life seemed to depend on the answer.
Beverly nodded. "Yes, she wanted me to ask you a few questions. Are you sure you have the time to spare?"
Von Barwig laughed from sheer joy. Time! to some one who came from her! He could only nod in acquiescence and wait for the young man to speak.
"How many letters have you received from Miss Stanton?" asked Beverly.
Von Barwig looked at him. "Not any," he replied, shaking his head sadly.