"I shall prove. I would have spoken long ago, but I have only just succeeded in obtaining the documents, only just learned of the Baron's plan to usurp control of Odensburg, together with Maia's hand. Now, I must speak, and you must listen to me."
Dernburg had turned pale, but still revolted against giving credence to this unheard-of thing that seemed to him inconceivable.
"I shall require the proofs of you for everything," resumed he, menacingly. "And now go on, I am listening!"
"Baron von Wildenrod has the reputation here of being rich, but in reality is not worth a stiver. It must be twelve years now since he forsook the diplomatic career, because his father's loss of fortune deprived him of all means of maintaining himself in proper style. The old Baron shot himself, and the family had only to thank their noble name for the interposition in their favor of the reigning Prince. He bought the estates, that were heavily encumbered with debt, satisfied their creditors, and granted the widow a small pension as long as she lived. The son forsook Germany and has never since been heard of in his native land."
Dernburg listened with darkly contracted eyebrows. He had once received a different account, which, indeed, contained no direct untruth, but concealed the decisive element, namely, the ruined fortunes of the family.
"I became acquainted with Oscar von Wildenrod three years ago," continued Runeck. "It was in Berlin, at the house of a Frau von Sarewski, a wealthy widow who lived in very handsome style. I gave her children drawing-lessons, at which she was often present, and by her desire I drew a sketch of an addition planned for her villa. This met with her full approval, and she wanted to give me a sign of recognition, by inviting me to one of her evening entertainments. I dared not decline, for I was dependent upon the fees I received from teaching drawing for the means to continue my studies. A perfect stranger in that fashionable circle, which inspired me with not the slightest interest, I retired that evening into a side-room, where the brother of the lady of the house was seated at cards with a few other gentlemen. Among them was Baron von Wildenrod, who, as I learned from their conversation, had been in Berlin for three months, and expected to pass the winter there. He was strikingly favored by fortune in his play, while the others had just as decided ill-luck. The brother of Frau von Sarewski, passionately devoted to card-playing, set the stakes ever higher and higher, his losses being proportionate, while Wildenrod had already won a little fortune. This whole carrying-on was repulsive to me, and I was in the act of withdrawal, when an elderly gentleman, a Count Almers, who was likewise among the card-players, suddenly seized the Baron's hand, held it fast, and, in a voice quivering with rage, pronounced him a black-leg."
"Did you see that yourself?" asked Dernburg, sternly.
"With my own eyes! I was also a witness to that which followed. The gentlemen sprang to their feet, and everything was astir; the loud talking pro and con brought all the other guests, Frau von Sarewski also making her appearance. She begged and implored those present to let the matter rest, and spare her house the notoriety of a public scandal. Wildenrod acted the man of outraged, deeply wounded feelings: he threatened to challenge the Count, but made use of this show of indignation as a pretext to withdraw as speedily as possible. Now Count Almers declared that he had been on the track of this deceiver for a long while, but had only to-day found the opportunity to unmask him. He insisted upon following up the investigation, since Wildenrod moved in the first circles, and elements of this sort must be ruthlessly ejected. The entreaties of Frau von Sarewski and the representations of her brother finally had the effect of moving the witnesses to keep silence, provided that Wildenrod could be induced to leave the city at once. This was superfluous, for he had no idea of either challenging the Count or attempting to clear himself. The next morning it was discovered that he had taken his departure in the night."
Those were plain facts that Runeck reported, but his bearing and tone gave to the narration a frightful emphasis. It was seen what a crushing revelation this was to the listener, although he gave no outward sign of sympathy.
"What else?" said he, bluntly and roughly.