In three sentences Eleanore had told her sister the whole story. “Now you come with me at once! Go up and stay with Father! See that he does not leave the house! I will be back in half an hour!”
Gertrude was literally dragged down the steps by Eleanore; before she could ask questions of any kind, Eleanore had disappeared.
At the General Agency Herr Zittel met her with the reply from that Gerber, Benno’s friend. It bore Gerber’s signature, and read: “Benno Jordan has not been here.”
Benjamin Dorn stood behind Herr Zittel; he displayed an expression of soft, smooth, dirge-like regret.
“Herr Diruf would like to speak to you,” said Herr Zittel coldly.
Eleanore entered Herr Diruf’s private office; her face was pale. He kept on writing for about three minutes before he took any notice of her. Then his plum-like eyes opened lazily, a rare, voluptuous smile sneaked out from under his moustache like a slothful flash of heat lightning; he said: “The sharper has gone and done it, hasn’t he?”
Eleanore never moved.
“Can the embezzled money be returned within twenty-four hours?” asked the pudgy, purple prince of pen-pushers.
“My father will do everything that is humanly possible,” replied Eleanore anxiously.
“Be so good as to inform your father that to-morrow morning at twelve o’clock the charge will be preferred and placed in the hands of the police, if the money has not been paid by that time.”