'Veesbaden, then,' Frank repeated, understanding now why Jerry had stumbled over the name when he once spoke it to her.
Clearly she had come from Wiesbaden, where Gretchen had lived, and where he believed she had died, though he did not tell Arthur so; he merely said:
'Gretchen was your sweetheart, I suppose?'
But Arthur did not reply; he never replied to direct questions as to who Gretchen was, but after a moment's silence, he said:
'You speak of her as something past. Do you believe she is dead?'
'Yes, I do,' was Frank's decided answer. You have never told me who she was, though I have my own opinion on the subject, and I know that you loved her very much, and if she loved you so much—'
'She did—she did; she loved me more—far more than I deserved,' was Arthur's vehement interruption.
'Well, then,' Frank continued, 'if she did, and were living, she would have come to you, or answered your letters, or sent you some messenger.'
Frank's voice trembled here, and be seemed to see again the cold, still face of the dead woman, whose lips, could they have spoken, might have unlocked the mystery and brought a message from Gretchen'
'True, true,' Arthur replied. 'She would have come or written. How long is it since I came home?'