Johannes throws a rapid glance towards the office door and looks at her enquiringly. She nods.
"Put it back," he cries, alarmed.
She balances the key in her hand and gazes longingly at the shining metal. "I once saw by chance where he hid it," she whispers.
"Put it back," he says once more.
She knits her brows, then she suggests with a short laugh: "That would be something for us to undertake." With that she casts a timorous side-glance at his face to try and explore his mood.
His heart beats audibly. In his soul there dawns the presentiment of approaching guilt.
"It would remain between us two, you know, Hans," she says coaxingly. He closes his eyes. How delightful it would be to have a secret with her! "And after all, what is there in it?" she continues. "Why should he be so mysterious about it, especially to us two, who are his next of kin in the world?"
"That's just why we ought not to deceive him!" he replies.
She stamps her foot on the ground.
"Deceive indeed! It's a shame to use such a nasty expression!" Then she says, pouting: "Well, then don't!" and prepares to return the key to its hiding-place. But she turns it about in her fingers three or four times, and finally remarks, laughing, "Perhaps it isn't the right one after all."