“Oh, no! Only I don’t understand.”
“Let’s keep to our old experiment! We have found that: the boy S. is easily frightened—he is afraid of somebody—he apparently shares a secret with this other person, which causes him much disquietude. Is that about right?”
As in a dream I lay under the influence of his voice, of his personality. I only nodded. Was not a voice talking there, which could only come from myself? Which knew all? Which knew all in a better, clearer way than I myself?
Demian gave me a powerful slap on the shoulder.
“That’s right then. I thought so. Now just one question more: Do you know the name of the boy who has just gone away?”
I sank back, he had the key to my secret, this secret which twisted back inside me as if it did not want to see the light.
“What sort of a fellow? There was no one there, except myself.”
He laughed.
“Don’t be afraid to tell me,” said he laughingly. “What’s his name?”
I whispered: “Do you mean Frank Kromer?”