"Bräsig," cried Habermann, in some excitement, "do you know anything about the business? Has anything come out?"
"Karl," said Bräsig, walking up and down with his long pipe, and tugging at a high shirt-collar, which sat very uncomfortably, as he did not usually wear one, "Karl, don't you see anything unusual about me?"
"Yes, Bräsig," said Habermann, "your shirt-collar, and it seems to scratch you dreadfully."
"That is nothing. Higher up!"
"Eh, then I don't know."
"Karl," said Bräsig, standing before him, "so as you see me here, I am appointed assessor at the criminal court, and get, by the hour's sitting, eight shillings, Prussian currency."
"Oh, leave that alone! But tell me, is there any prospect that anything can come of the matter?"
Bräsig looked his friend right in the eye, shook his head a little, and said; "Karl, I dare not tell you anything, and I will not, the Herr Burgomeister has expressly forbidden me to say anything here in town, and especially to you, for the Herr Burgomeister says it will only be a useless torment for you, and we must have more indiciums, for he can do nothing without indiciums, and these confounded things can only be obtained by the greatest secrecy, says the Herr Burgomeister, and, if the whole city knows it, it would only give opportunity for all sorts of confusions among the rascals. But so much I can tell you, they have lied already, and they will keep on lying, till they fix themselves in a trap."
There was a knock at the door; it was the letter-carrier, bringing Habermann a letter: "From Paris," he said, and went away.
"Lord preserve us, Karl! You have very distinguished acquaintances! Who the devil can it be? From Paris!"