“The secret was expensive, I admit, but it was worth it. Just take a look at the plan, Joh Fredersen, what is that?”
“Perhaps a flight of stairs....”
“Quite certainly a flight of stairs. It is a very slovenly execution in the drawing as in reality....”
“So you know them?”
“I have the honour, Joh Fredersen—yes. Now come two paces sideways. What is that?”
He had taken Joh Fredersen by the arm. He felt the fingers of the artificial hand pressing into his muscles like the claws of a bird of prey. With the right one Rotwang indicated the spot upon which Joh Fredersen had stood.
“What is that?” he asked, shaking the hand which he held in his grip.
Joh Fredersen bent down. He straightened himself up again.
“A door?”
“Right, Joh Fredersen! A door! A perfectly fitting and well shutting door. The man who built this house was an orderly and careful person. Only once did he omit to give heed, and then he had to pay for it. He went down the stairs which are under the door, followed the careless steps and passages which are connected with them, and never found his way back. It is not easy to find, for those who lodged there did not care to have strangers penetrate into their domain.... I found my inquisitive predecessor, Joh Fredersen, and recognised him at once—by his pointed red shoes, which have preserved themselves wonderfully. As a corpse he looked peaceful and Christian-like, both of which he certainly was not in his life. The companions of his last hours probably contributed considerably to the conversion of the erstwhile devil’s disciple....”