He shivered as he felt that he was under the very roof where those he loved best were lying cold and stark in death, but he set his lips and clenched his fingers, determined to bear all that was in store for him. Frau von Sigmundskron hesitated as they approached the door of the drawing-room, and she looked sideways at Greif.
‘Better to my rooms,’ he said. And so the three went on through corridors and staircases till they reached the young man’s apartments. He closed the door, and glanced at Rex.
‘Madam,’ said the latter at once, ‘I am called Rex, but that is not my name. I am the son of Kuno von Rieseneck. I have Herr von Greifenstein’s permission to pay my last duty to my dead father.’
Frau von Sigmundskron raised her gentle eyes in astonishment and looked from one to the other of the two men.
‘Rex is my best friend,’ said Greif. ‘He needed no permission of mine to come here. I will explain all at another time. And now—’ his voice broke, and he turned away, but recovered himself almost immediately. ‘And now, I beg that you will tell us what you know.’
The good baroness detested weakness in herself and could not bear to see it in others, so that she told her story clearly and concisely, though with much caution and thoughtful tact. While she spoke she watched the two friends, who sat motionless beside her, their hands clasped upon their knees, their heads bent down, their faces white with emotion. The sun was already above the hills, and while she spoke the first rays fell through the ancient casement upon the carpet of the room, casting soft reflexions upon the pallid features of the three persons.
‘I will go to them,’ said Greif when she had finished, and he rose to his feet. The baroness prepared to show him the way, and Rex would have followed, but she stopped him by a gesture.
‘I will come back for you,’ she said. ‘They are not together.’
She let Greif enter the chamber alone and softly closed the door after him. Then she returned to Rex. He was standing where she had left him.
‘I have something to say,’ she began, ‘and something to give you. This letter is yours. It was found in the room, sealed, directed and stamped, as though it were to be posted, as it would have been had you not come. Nothing has been discovered for Greif, and this must have been written by Herr von Rieseneck. You are older than Greif, though he is brave enough, poor fellow. Here it is. Will you be alone to read it? I will go into the next room until you call me.