“I have come from America and more recently from France,” Ruth said, stepping down. They were alone now as Adler walked with her across the terrace. “I have come from Lucerne with Captain von Forstner.”
“Yes, gnädiges Fräulein, I know; I know. And he is dead, they tell me. It is true that he is dead?”
“He is dead,” Ruth confirmed. And she saw that the fact of von Forstner’s death bore far different consequences to Adler than to Dittman. The secretary was charged now with responsibilities which had been his master’s; it was these, more than the physical accident of von Forstner’s death, which overwhelmed and dismayed him. “But I have recovered his reports and personal memoranda,” Ruth assured.
“Yes; yes. That is very fortunate.”
“Which I shall go over with you as quickly as I can change to dry clothes, Herr Adler,” she continued. She did not know whether the secretary had been about to make demand for his master’s papers; if he had, she had anticipated him. “Oberst-Lieutenant von Fallenbosch has telephoned?” Ruth asked.
“Ten minutes ago, gnädiges Fräulein.”
“Of course you told him that Captain von Forstner is dead.”
“Of course.”
“Well, what is he to do?”
“He is coming here at once.”