“Nothing, nothing whatever,” declared Fräulein, and there was a ring of sincerity in her tone that they could not doubt. “I would give my life to find her.”
“In that case,” said the man in the same quiet voice, “you will certainly have no objection to answering any questions we may ask. In the first place, will you please give us your uncle’s name and address?”
Fräulein started violently and covered her face with her hands.
“I cannot do that,” she protested, trembling. “My uncle is a German patriot. It might not be safe for him if his address were known. Besides, he has nothing to do with the child’s disappearance—I am sure he has not.”
“If he has not, he will have nothing to fear from his address being known to us,” the stranger said, reassuringly. “You say you love this poor girl. Is it possible that you will refuse to do all in your power to help us to find her?”
“I have said that I would give my life to find her,” affirmed Fräulein, indignantly, and she lifted her tear-swollen face from her hands.
“We are not asking for your life; we are only asking for your uncle’s name and address. He may have no more to do with the affair than you have, but in this terrible business we must leave no stone unturned. Come, Fräulein, you are a good woman, I am sure, and want to help us all you can. If your uncle is innocent, there can be no objection to our interviewing him.”
For a moment longer the woman continued to struggle against her better nature. Then she said slowly:
“He is not my own uncle; he is only the husband of my aunt. Yes, I will tell you his name. It is Rudolph Becker, and he lives——” she murmured an address.
“Rudolph Becker,” repeated the stranger, and although his voice was still quiet, there was a note of suppressed excitement in it, which caused Mrs. Douaine’s heart to leap with sudden hope. “Thank you, Fräulein, that is all I shall require of you.” And without another word, he turned and left the room, followed by Gretel’s brother.