"If you had not burrowed in your grief like a mole, and taken flight before every human face, you would have known long ago what is in every one's mouth, namely, that on the morning of her death I received a letter from her----"
"You--uncle--from her----?"
"Goodness, my boy, you are breaking the bones in my body. Do first listen to me patiently"--and he told him the contents of the letter.
Robert had started to his feet and was nervously running his fingers through his hair. His eyes, which were staring down upon the old man, gleamed through the darkness.
"And the book--give it to me--where is it?"
The old man informed him how great was the danger in which Olga's secret was hovering, and what anxiety he had himself passed through on its account.
"Wait, I will fetch it," cried Robert, and hurried towards the door.
The old man held him back. "Your mother has the key--take care that her suspicion is not aroused."
"The door is half broken, I will smash it entirely."
"They will hear you downstairs."