“More trouble?”
“I’ll say it is.”
Bertha stood to one side. “That’s different. Come in.”
Belder was fumbling around in the inside pocket of his coat before Bertha had the door closed. He produced a folded sheet of letter-paper, handed it to Bertha. “Take a look at this,” he said.
“What is it?”
“A letter.”
“Sent to you?”
“To my wife.”
Bertha didn’t unfold the letter. She held it in her short, stubby fingers while her eyes regarded Belder with glittering concentration.
“Where did this come from?”