"The money is needed," Scharpe said in a dour, bass voice, staring off past Jonas' left ear at the darkening sky. "And for the money, you will be welcome. I must take your word that you are not dangerous; I can only pray that you do not betray that trust."
It was far from a warm welcome, but Jonas was satisfied with it. "I shall work to do you good," he said, "and not evil."
"Stranger," Scharpe said, "work for your own good; do nothing for me. This is an accursed family; there is no good to be done to me, or my wife or child."
Jonas tried to look reassuring. He thought of several things to say about the sunny side of life, and decided on none or them. "My sympathy—" he began.
"Your sympathy may endanger you," Scharpe said. "My son is gone; I pray that there is an end to it."
Jonas peered once into the mind of the man, and recoiled violently; but he had enough, in that one glimpse, to tell him the reason for Scharpe's misery. And it was quite reason enough, he thought.
"Herr Knupf—"
"We do not mention that name," Scharpe said. "My wife has resigned herself to what has happened; I am not so wise."
"I promise you," Jonas said earnestly, "that you will be in no danger from me. No, more: that I will help you out of your difficulties, and ensure your peace."
"Then you are an angel from Heaven," Scharpe said bitterly. "There is no other help, while the Inquisitor remains and our sons become suspect to his rages."