He tapped with his right forefinger upon a maze of crosses in the centre of the plan.
“Here he lies. Just on this spot. His skull must have enclosed a brain which was worthy of your own, Joh Fredersen, and he had to perish because he once lost his way.... What a pity for him....”
“Where did he lose his way?” asked Joh Fredersen.
Rotwang looked long at him before speaking.
“In the city of graves, over which Metropolis stands,” he answered at last. “Deep below the moles’ tunnels of your underground railway, Joh Fredersen, lies the thousand-year-old Metropolis of the thousand-year-old dead....”
Joh Fredersen was silent. His left eyebrow rose, while his eyes narrowed. He fixed his gaze upon Rotwang, who had not taken his eyes from him.
“What is the plan of this city of graves doing in the hands and pockets of my workmen?”
“That is yet to be discovered,” answered Rotwang.
“Will you help me?”
“Yes.”