Puzzled over this, as well as sure that her conclusion was the right one, Mrs. Havermann opened the drawer where she had once seen and counted the fourteen thousand dollars. To her surprise there was no money here now, only some of Stolz’s shirts and underwear. She opened other drawers in the wardrobe, and then looked into a set of drawers built into the closet. Such drawers as did not hold clothing were empty.

He’s taken the money away, she thought vaguely, aware that her sensations were a mixture of relief and disappointment. The next instant she became illogically convinced that the thief had been successful, the money stolen! In fright she finished her search by throwing open the door of the wardrobe compartment designed to hang clothes. At sight of the enormous heap of green packets she stood transfixed, and as she comprehended the size of the heap and the amount of money which must be here, she gave a shrill cry and almost fell to her knees.

She was as stunned as if she had come upon some monstrous growth which in stealth and darkness had increased beyond all bounds. While she stood tottering a couple of packets slid off to the floor, and she jerked her foot away as from a poisonous and malignant fungus.

She managed finally to slam the wardrobe door, then went to the bed and sat down groggily. Fear seemed to have congealed in her marrow. Under the poleaxed numbness some thoughts fluttered: one, that there must be something illegal in Stolz’s hiding such a vast amount; and also, a brief feeling of outrage that he had chosen to put it here. In that instant she nearly grasped how illusory was the sentimental dream she’d built up around him.

She rose from the bed and, without another glance at the wardrobe, went into the hall and locked the door.

She passed Karen on the stairs. Karen carried cleaning materials in her hands, had her eyes fixed where she must step. For a moment Mrs. Havermann paused. Her emotions had been stirred as they had not been in years. She was on the verge of panic and the need to talk to someone was almost overpowering. She blurted, “Karen!” and the girl looked at her.

Like an electric spark there seemed to flow between them a blaze of sympathy and compassion. There was in both a terrible need to communicate. Mrs. Havermann’s stark eyes and chalky skin brought out in Karen the yearning to console, to listen and reassure. And for the first time in Mrs. Havermann’s life she felt the girl there as a living human being on whom she could depend, whose love she had earned and deserved.

Mrs. Havermann put out a hand, opened her lips to speak. In the next moment she would have spilled her panic and confusion, and Karen would have confessed all of Skip’s plans.