Ilse was sweeping the corridor when she noticed the shadow of a visitor cast across the floor by the light of the wall lamps. She knew who it was even before raising her head, and she froze.
Holy God, how did you find us?
When she and her son had first arrived at the boardinghouse, Ilse had had to work to pay for part of the rent, since what Paul was making carrying coal wasn’t enough. Later, when Paul had transformed Ziegler’s grocery into a bank, the young man had insisted that they find better lodgings. Ilse had refused. There had been too many changes in her life, and she clung to whatever gave her security.
One of those things was the broom handle. Paul-and the owner of the boardinghouse, to whom Ilse wasn’t much help-had insisted that she stop working, but she had paid no attention. She needed to feel useful somehow. The silence into which she’d sunk after they’d been expelled from the mansion had initially been the result of anxiety, but later had become a voluntary manifestation of her love for Paul. She avoided conversation with him because she was afraid of his questions. When she spoke, it was of unimportant things, which she tried to invest with all the tenderness she could muster. The rest of the time she simply gazed at him silently, from afar, and grieved over what she had been deprived of.
Which was why her anguish was so intense when she found herself face-to-face with one of the people responsible for her loss.
“Hello, Ilse.”
She took a step back cautiously.
“What do you want, Otto?”
The baron drummed on the ground with the end of his walking stick. He wasn’t comfortable here, that much was clear, as was the fact that his visit signaled some sinister intent.
“Can we talk somewhere more private?”
“I don’t want to go anywhere with you. Say what you have to say and leave.”
The baron snorted in annoyance. Then he gestured scornfully at the moldy paper on the walls, the uneven floor, and the fading lamps that gave off more shadow than light.
“Look at you, Ilse. Sweeping the corridor in a third-class boardinghouse. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Sweeping floors is sweeping floors, it makes no difference if it’s a mansion or a boardinghouse. And there are linoleum floors that are more respectable than marble.”
“Ilse, dear, you know that when we took you in you were in a bad way. I wouldn’t have wanted-”
“Stop right there, Otto. I know whose idea that was. But don’t think I’m going to fall for the routine that you’re only a puppet. You’re the one who’s controlled my sister from the very start, making her pay dearly for the mistake she made. And for the things you’ve done hiding behind that mistake.”
Otto took a step back, shocked at the anger that seethed from Ilse’s lips. The monocle fell from his eye and swung against the front of his overcoat like a condemned man hanging from a gibbet.
“You surprise me, Ilse. They told me you’d-”
Ilse gave a joyless laugh.
“Lost it? Gone crazy? No, Otto. I’m quite sane. I’ve chosen to remain silent all this time because I’m afraid of what my son might do if he found out the truth.”
“So stop him. Because he’s going too far.”
“So that’s why you’ve come,” she said, unable to contain her scorn. “You’re afraid the past will finally catch up with you.”
The baron took a step toward Ilse. Paul’s mother moved back against the wall as Otto brought his face up close to hers.
“Now, listen carefully, Ilse. You’re the only link there is to that night. If you don’t stop him before it’s too late, I shall have to break that link.”
“Go on, then, Otto, kill me,” said Ilse, feigning a bravery she didn’t feel. “But you should know I’ve written a letter revealing the whole affair. All of it. If anything happens to me, Paul will receive it.”
“But… you can’t be serious! You can’t write that down! What if it falls into the wrong hands?”
Ilse didn’t reply. All she did was stare at him. Otto tried to hold her stare, a tall, solid, well-dressed man facing down a fragile woman in ragged clothes who clung to her broom to stop herself from falling.
Finally the baron gave up.
“It doesn’t end here,” said Otto, turning and rushing out.