Then I realized someone was knocking.
"Who's there?" I called.
"It's me, Herr Lohkamp."
I recognised Frau Zalewski's voice.
"Come in," said I, "the door's open."
The latch creaked and I saw Frau Zalewski standing in the doorway against the yellow light of the passage. "Frau Hasse's here," she whispered. "Come, quick.
I can't tell her."
I did not move.
I needed to find myself first.
"Send her to the police," I then answered.
"Herr Lohkamp!" Frau Zalewski raised her hands. "There's nobody else here.
You must help me.
After all you are a Christian."
She stood in the rectangle of the doorway like a black, dancing shadow.
"Cut it out," said I peevishly. "I'm coming."
I put on my things and went out.
Frau Zalewski was waiting for me.
"Does she know anything yet?" I asked.
She shook her head and pressed her handkerchief to her lips.
"Where is she then?"
"In her old room."
Frida was standing at the kitchen door sweating with excitement.
"She's got a hat on all over egrets, and a diamond brooch," she whispered.
"See to it that blathering kitchen slut doesn't listen," said I to Frau Zalewski and went in.
Frau Hasse was by the window.
She swung round as I entered.
She had obviously been expecting somebody else.
It was idiotic, but my first glance went to the hat and the brooch though I did not intend it.
Frida was right; the hat was blatant, the brooch less so.
The whole person was pretty much got-up, like that of one who would show another how well he was doing.
On the whole, she didn't look so bad; better anyway than all the years she had been here.
"Hasse's at work still on Christmas Eve, I suppose, eh?" she asked sharply.
"No," said I.
"Where is he then?
On holiday?"
She came up to me swaying her hips.
I smelt her strong perfume.
"What do you want with him then?" I asked.
"Get my things.
Settle up.
After all, part of it belongs to me."
"You don't have to, any more," said I. "It all belongs to you now."
She stared at me. "He's dead," said I.
I would rather have said it differently.
With more preparation, and gradually.
But I didn't know how to begin.
Besides my head was still muddled from the afternoon sleep—that sleep that brings a man near to suicide when he wakes.
Frau Hasse was standing in the middle of the room, and in a most extraordinary way I saw quite distinctly, the moment I told her, that if she fell over there was nothing she would hit herself against.
It was curious, but I saw nothing else and thought nothing else.
She didn't fall, of course.