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Updated: May 1, 2025
"Yes and I know what I'm about," exclaimed Otto. "Do you know Riordan, the district leader here? Well, he's a friend of mine. If we haven't got any rights you police are bound to respect, thank God, we've got a 'pull'." "That's a bluff," said Casey, but his tone was less insolent. "Well, if you must know, she's wanted for the murder of Carl Feuerstein."
Feuerstein rose and took leave most graciously. "May I return this evening?" he said to Brauner. "Always glad to see our friends," answered Brauner with a shamefaced, apologetic look at Otto. At seven o'clock that evening Otto, just closing his shop, saw Mr. Feuerstein and Hilda pass on their way toward Tompkins Square. A few minutes later Sophie came along.
His tone was abrupt, irritated. "Yes I will. I just wanted to warn you " She raised her eyes appealingly toward his face. "Two people came to see me to-night Mr. Ganser and his daughter " Feuerstein fell back a step and she saw that he was shaking and that his face had become greenish white. "It's false!" he blustered. "False as hell! And she knew that it was true.
"I want to tell you," said Otto quietly, "that as the result of your going away so suddenly and not coming back a wicked lying story is going round about Hilda. She does not know it yet, but it won't be long before something will be said maybe publicly. And it will break her heart." "I can't discuss her with you," said Mr. Feuerstein. "Doubtless you mean well. I'm obliged to you for coming.
He gulped down the beer and sat wiping the sweat from his face. "I have done nothing," he protested in tragic tones. "Why am I persecuted I, poor, friendless, helpless?" "Pity about you," said the detective. "You'd better go west and start again. Why not try honest work? It's not so bad, they say, once you get broke in." He rose and shook hands with Feuerstein. "So long," he said. "Good luck!
"He may have to be at the theater," said Sophie, herself extremely uneasy. Partly through shrewdness, partly through her natural suspicion of strangers, she felt that Mr. Feuerstein, upon whom she was building, was not a rock. "No," replied Hilda. "He told me he wouldn't be at the theater, but would surely come here." The fact that her lover had said so settled it to her mind.
Mrs. Ganser shook her huge head vaguely. "See Peter," was all she said. They went down stairs and waited, Lena silent, Feuerstein pacing the room and rehearsing, now aloud, now to himself, the scene he would enact with his father-in-law. Peter was in a frightful humor that evening.
"Mus' go home," said Dippel at last, rising abruptly. Feuerstein walked with him, taking his arm to steady him. "Let's have one more," he said, drawing him into a saloon, gently pushing him to a seat at a table and ordering whisky. After the third large drink, Dippel became helpless and maudlin and began to overflow with generous sentiments.
But not even her own family knew her secret. "When is Mr. Feuerstein coming again?" asked her father when a week had passed. "I don't know just when. Soon," answered Hilda, in a tone which made it impossible for such a man as he to inquire further. Sophie brought all her cunning to bear in her effort to get at the facts. But Hilda evaded her hints and avoided her traps.
But she did not know who was German Emperor or even who was President of the United States. She, therefore, had to be extremely cautious. She nodded assent. "My uncle," said Feuerstein impressively. His eyes became reflective. "Strange!" he exclaimed in tender accents, soliloquizing "strange where romance will lead us.
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