"Be at the old place again today. How are my days to be spent without you here in this dreary hole? I am beside myself, and yet thus much of what you say is right; it is salvation, and we must in the end bless the hand that inflicts this separation on us." Innstetten had hardly shoved the letters aside when the doorbell rang. In a moment Johanna announced Privy Councillor Wüllersdorf. Wüllersdorf entered and saw at a glance that something must have happened. "Pardon me, Wüllersdorf," said Innstetten, receiving him, "for having asked you to come at once to see me. I dislike to disturb anybody in his evening's repose, most of all a hard-worked department chief. But it could not be helped. I beg you, make yourself comfortable, and here is a cigar." Wüllersdorf sat down. Innstetten again walked to and fro and would gladly have gone on walking, because of his consuming restlessness, but he saw it would not do. So he took a cigar himself, sat down face to face with Wüllersdorf, and tried to be calm. "It is for two reasons," he began, "that I have sent for you. Firstly, to deliver a challenge, and, secondly, to be my second in the encounter itself. The first is not agreeable and the second still less. And now your answer?" "You know, Innstetten, I am at your disposal. But before I know about the case, pardon me the naïve question, must it be? We are beyond the age, you know--you to take a pistol in your hand, and I to have a share in it. However, do not misunderstand me; this is not meant to be a refusal. How could I refuse you anything? But tell me now what it is." "It is a question of a gallant of my wife, who at the same time was my friend, or almost a friend." Wüllersdorf looked at Innstetten. "Instetten, that is not possible." "It is more than possible, it is certain. Read." Wüllersdorf ran over the letters hastily. "These are addressed to your wife?" "Yes. I found them today in her sewing table." "And who wrote them?" "Major von Crampas." "So, things that occurred when you were still in Kessin?" Innstetten nodded. "So, it was six years ago, or half a year longer?" "Yes." Wüllersdorf kept silent. After a while Innstetten said: "It almost looks, Wüllersdorf, as though the six or seven years made an impression on you. There is a theory of limitation, of course, but I don't know whether we have here a case to which the theory can be applied." "I don't know, either," said Wüllersdorf. "And I confess frankly, the whole case seems to turn upon that question." Innstetten looked at him amazed. "You say that in all seriousness?" "In all seriousness. It is no time for trying one's skill at pleasantry or dialectic hair-splitting." "I am curious to know what you mean. Tell me frankly what you think about it."