He could take no stock in those stories, Niels Heinrich answered; no, not if he was to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. If the gentleman would tell him what was behind it all, maybe he’d believe it. To do a thing like that a man must have bran in his head. If the gentleman would tell him the real facts, maybe he’d be able to see light. He’d gladly believe that there was something behind it all. Nobody could tell, of course, what sort of things the gentleman had on his conscience; so his Papa and Mama wouldn’t budge with the brass, and he told elegant stories. But one might make things pretty lively for the gentleman. There were a good many people, not only in Stolpische Street but elsewhere, who didn’t think the gentleman’s love affair with the murdered Jewess all straight and aboveboard. He, Niels Heinrich, knew a thing or two; other people knew other things, the gentleman himself knew a damned lot more than he showed, and he’d have to own up if things got serious. All one’d have to do was to give a hint to the right people, and the gentleman would find himself more clearly described in the newspapers than he had so far. His name’d be coupled with the name of that bloodhound Joachim Heinzen. Then the fat would be in the fire, or, to use the gentleman’s manner of speech, he’d be irretrievably compromised. In Christian’s expression there did not appear the faintest trace of indignation or disgust. He sat there with lowered eyes, as though reflecting how he could answer most pertinently and objectively. Then he said: “Your hidden threats frighten me no more than your open ones. I do not care in the least where my name is mentioned or under what circumstances, whether it be spoken or written or printed. No one’s opinion or attitude has any influence on me, not even theirs who were once closest to me. So that is the third error which you have made. There is no basis in reality to anything you have said, least of all in your references to my friendship with Ruth Hofmann. No one knows anything about it, and I have spoken to no one; nor did Ruth do so, I am sure. By what right do you pass a judgment on it, and so shameful a one too? You have no suspicion how infinitely far from the truth it is. And yet it surprises me that you expect it to be effective, that you expect so false and empty an accusation to wound or frighten me. But won’t you sit down? You’re standing there in such a hostile attitude. There’s no occasion for enmity between us; I meant to tell you that long ago. If there’s anything concerning your late sister or myself that you want to know, I shall be glad to inform you. In return, I’d like to ask you to answer me a few questions too. Do sit down.” He pointed courteously to a chair.