When Otto came to see Hilda that evening she was guiltily effusive in her greeting and made up her mind that, as soon as they were alone, she must tell him what she had all but done.
But first there was the game of pinochle which Otto must lose to her father. As they sat at their game she was at the zither-table, dreamily playing May Breezes as she watched Otto and thought how much more comfortable she was in his strong, loyal love than in the unnatural strain of Mr. Feuerstein's ecstasies. `` `Work and love and home,' '' she murmured, in time to her music. ``Yes, father is right. They ARE the best.''
August came in and said: ``Hilda, here are two men who want to see you.''
As he spoke, he was pushed aside and she, her father and Otto sat staring at the two callers. They were obviously detectives--``plain clothes men'' from the Fifth-Street Station House. There could be no chance of mistake about those police mustaches and jaws, those wide, square-toed, police shoes.
``My name is Casey and this is my side- partner, Mr. O'Rourke,'' said the shorter and fatter of the two as they seated themselves without waiting to be asked. Casey took off his hat; O'Rourke's hand hesitated at the brim, then drew his hat more firmly down upon his forehead. ``Sorry to break in on your little party,''
Casey went on, ``but the Cap'n sent us to ask the young lady a few questions.''
Hilda grew pale and her father and Otto looked frightened.
``Do you know an actor named Feuerstein?'' asked Casey.
Hilda trembled. She could not speak. She nodded assent.
``Did you see him to-day?''
``Yes,'' almost whispered Hilda.
Casey looked triumphantly at O'Rourke. Otto half rose, then sank back again. ``Where did you see him?'' asked Casey.
``Here.''
``Where else?''
Hilda nervously laced and unlaced her fingers. ``Only here,'' she answered after a pause.
``Ah, yes you did. Come now, lady. Speak the truth. You saw him at Meinert's.''
Hilda started violently. The detectives exchanged significant glances. ``No,'' she protested. ``I saw him only here.''
``Were you out of the store this afternoon?''
A long pause, then a faint ``Yes.''
``Where did you go?'' Casey added.
The blood flew to Hilda's face, then left it. ``To Meinert's,'' she answered. ``But only as far as the door.''
``Oh!'' said Casey sarcastically, and O'Rourke laughed. ``It's no use to hold back, lady,'' continued Casey. ``We know all about your movements. You went in Meinert's--in at the family entrance.''
``Yes,'' replied Hilda. She was shaking as if she were having a chill. ``But just to the door, then home again.''
``Now, that won't do,'' said Casey roughly. ``You'd better tell the whole story.''
``Tell them all about it, Hilda,'' interposed her father in an agonized tone.
``Don't hold back anything.''
``Oh--father--Otto--it was nothing. I didn't go in. He--Mr. Feuerstein--came here, and he looked so sick, and he begged me to come over to Meinert's for a minute. He said he had something to say to me. And then I went. But at the door I got to thinking about all he'd done, and I wouldn't go in. I just came back home.''
``What was it that he had done, lady?'' asked O'Rourke.
``I won't tell,'' Hilda flashed out, and she started up. ``It's nobody's business. Why do you ask me all these questions? I won't answer any more.''
``Now, now, lady,'' said Casey. ``Just keep cool. When you went, what did you take a knife from the counter for?''
``A knife!'' Hilda gasped, and she would have fallen to the floor had not Otto caught her.
``That settles it!'' said Casey, in an undertone to O'Rourke.
``She's it, all right. I guess she's told us enough?''
O'Rourke nodded. ``The Cap'n'll get the rest out of her when he puts her through the third degree.''
They rose and Casey said, with the roughness of one who is afraid of his inward impulses to gentleness: ``Come, lady, get on your things. You're going along with us.''
``No! No!'' she cried in terror, flinging herself into her father's arms.
Brauner blazed up. ``What do you mean?'' he demanded, facing the detectives.
``You'll find out soon enough,'' said Casey in a blustering tone.
``The less fuss you make, the better it'll be for you. She's got to go, and that's all there is to it.''
``This is an outrage,'' interrupted Otto, rushing between Hilda and the detectives.
``You daren't take her without telling her why. You can't treat us like dogs.''
``Drop it!'' said Casey contemptuously. ``Drop it, Dutchy. I guess we know what we're about.''
``Yes--and I know what _I_'m about,'' exclaimed Otto. ``Do you know Riordan, the district leader here? Well, he's a friend of mine. If we haven't got any rights you police are bound to respect, thank God, we've got a `pull'.''
``That's a bluff,'' said Casey, but his tone was less insolent.
``Well, if you must know, she's wanted for the murder of Carl Feuerstein.''
Hilda flung her arms high above her head and sank into a chair and buried her face. ``It's a dream!'' she moaned. ``Wake me--wake me!''
Otto and Brauner looked each at the other in horror. ``Murder!'' whispered Brauner hoarsely. ``My Hilda--murder!''
Otto went to Hilda and put his arms about her tightly and kissed her.
``She's got to come,'' said Casey angrily. ``Now, will she go quietly or shall I call the wagon?''
This threat threw them into a panic. ``You'd better go,'' said Otto in an undertone to Hilda. ``Don't be frightened, dear.
You're innocent and they can't prove you guilty. You're not poor and friendless.''
At the pressure of his arms Hilda lifted her face, her eyes shining at him through her tears. And her heart went out to him as never before. From that moment it was his, all his. ``My love, my dear love,'' she said. She went to the closet and took out her hat. She put it on before the mirror over the mantelpiece. ``I'm ready,'' she said quietly.
