I am sorry that our meeting to-day fell out differently from the one
we had planned. That is not why I am writing to you, however, for
we can continue our conversation in another place and at another
time. But you may have left our house under the impression that my
husband was “nothing but a fool,” and in his wife’s eyes too, and
that would have been my fault, so I want to entreat you not to allow
yourself to take up a depreciatory attitude. It is true that the
Count buys Futurist pictures, but that must be understood more or
less symbolically. I have always found that the more “foolish” a man
appeared at one’s first encounter with him, the more approachable he
became when one met him in his more serious moments.
Au revoir ... but when, and where?
Yours sincerely,
LUCY TOLD.
“So Lucy is her name? And indeed she is rightly called Light. If she
were _my_ light of life!... Oh, what a fool I am,” said he, as he felt
an unaccustomed warmth steal over him--a warmth for which he always
yearned.... Then he stood up, shaking off these delicious tremors, and
saying sternly to himself, “This is a pretty way to reach a criminal
... through falling in love with a beautiful woman.”
The telephone rang: “Hull speaking!”
Hull told him that a new gaming-house had been opened, and he really
must visit it. The saloon was not only arranged to accommodate a large
number of people, at least a hundred, but it had certain mechanical
contrivances which could turn it into a music-hall if the police were
to appear. He did not know how it was done, but Cara had written to him
about it and she was always _au courant_ of any new sensation of this
kind. They were going there, and taking Karstens with them, but Hull
did not know the address of this place, and they would trust to Cara’s
guidance. Of course, she knew nothing about his writing to Wenk.
A rendezvous was arranged, and at ten o’clock Wenk drove to the Café
Bastin, whence they were to set out.