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Updated: June 24, 2025
"Let me see the folder!" cried Katrina. "Pardon," said the guard to me, "but I see no harm," and he handed her the folder. She glanced over it with feverish haste. "Are you satisfied now?" questioned the guard. "Yes," hissed the black-eyed girl; "I am satisfied that this is Karl Armstadt's folder.
I read and re-read this entry and searched feverishly in Armstadt's diary for further evidence of a personal life. But I only found tedious notes on his chemical theories. Perhaps this single reference to a woman was but a passing fancy of a man otherwise engrossed in his science.
I put this elaborate identification paper back into its receptacle and opened the notebook. It proved to be a diary kept likewise in thorough German fashion. I turned to the last pages and perused them hastily. The notes in Armstadt's diary were concerned almost wholly with his chemical investigations.
One incident only I omitted and that was of the near discovery of my identity by Armstadt's former mistress. Of that I did not speak for I felt that Marguerite, at least in the presence of the others, would not relish that part of the story. Nor did I wish to worry them with the fear that was still upon me that I had not seen the last of that affair.
"He admitted his trailing quite frankly," said Marguerite, "for as soon as we were out of the shop, I accused him of preparing the scene. 'Of course, he said, 'but I had to convince you that your chemist was not so saintly as you thought him. His banker is a friend of mine, and I asked him about von Armstadt's account.
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