Brachtmann (_turning toward the others_). We were speaking of this when you joined us. We have all received copies of the paper. Richard (_to the group_). Then I must apologise for not having mentioned the matter; but I was waiting to bring it before you in committee. It seems to be a question of personal spite, for my son has received the paper too. Brachtmann. And Madame von Voelkerlingk? Richard. My wife? Why do you ask? Brachtmann. Look at this. (_Leads_ Richard _to the writing-table and points to the paper_. Richard _starts, but controls himself instantly_.) Prince. We were just wondering how we could get rid of the thing before it is discovered, and we had reluctantly decided that none of us is sufficiently intimate here to tamper with the Countess's papers. Now, if _you_, my dear Baron--as an old friend of the family--knowing how important it is to spare her any excitement---- Richard (_looking at him sharply_). There is only one person entitled to remove that paper, and that is Count Kellinghausen. I will speak to him at once. Prince (_aside_). Irreproachable! Brachtmann. My dear Voelkerlingk, for heaven's sake leave Kellinghausen out of the question! Richard. How can I? Brachtmann. I have been in politics long enough to take such incidents philosophically. But Kellinghausen, easy-going as he is, strikes me as the kind of man who might make an ass of himself in such an emergency. If he loses his head he may do the party an incalculable amount of harm; whereas, if we can keep this thing from him, it will blow over in a week, and nobody be any the worse for it. Richard. But you forget that I am as much involved in this as Kellinghausen. It is impossible that I should stand aside and allow any reflection to be cast on--er---- Brachtmann. You are quite right. But wait a moment. You said you meant to bring the matter up in committee, which is undoubtedly the proper way of dealing with it. The committee meets the day after to-morrow; and all I ask is that you should say nothing till then. Richard. And suppose I agree to that what becomes of this paper? (_Pointing to the writing-table_.) What if the Countess finds it? von Berkelwitz. Gentlemen, I'm only a plain country squire, and I haven't your refinements of conscience. (_He takes the paper, tears it up and throws it into the wastepaper basket_. Brachtmann _and the_ Prince _laugh_.) von Berkelwitz. After which act of felony I suppose I had better make my escape. (_Shakes hands with the others and goes out_.)