“And he came to you? What about?”
“Asking about papers—”
“Papers? What interest can he have in them? And you told him about the certificates?”
“Yes.”
“Gott in Himmel!”
“Why, what’s the matter?”
“You told him about the certificates? Then it was he who wrote the note!”
“Which note? Don’t take on like that—in a cab!”
“You told him! Then it was he—it was he! How does he look, this young man? What kind of young man?” Van Hupfeldt wanted to choke the woman as she sat there beside him.
“Come, cheer up, pull yourself together; it will be all the same a hundred years hence. I’m sure I didn’t know that I was injuring you by telling him, and even if I had known, I should still have told him—there’s nothing like being frank, is there? You and I weren’t pals—”