Hauser.  Did you confess?

Beermann.  How can you suppose that? [Sits down again.] I spoke for the others.  I explained to the official that he is showing up the influential element; that he is injuring the established order of society,—­but [he touches his forehead with his palm] that fellow has nothing but police ordinances in his head.

Hauser.  Shouting will not help us a bit.  Remain cool and collected.  One thing is important, at this moment.  Has the diary reached the District Attorney’s office?

Beermann.  No, it has not.

Hauser.  Well, as long as it remains in the Police Department there are still possibilities.

Beermann.  It is not in the Police Department either.

Hauser.  Of course it is there.  Where else should it be?

Beermann [indicating his side pocket].  Here.

Hauser [amazed].  What?

Beermann [takes the diary out of his side pocket and places it on the table].  Here it is.

Hauser.  So, this is the celebrated diary of Madame Hauteville. [Beermann nods.] Who gave it to you?

Beermann.  Nobody.  I just took it.

Hauser.  You mean; you sto ...

Beermann. ...  Stole it, yes, sir.

Hauser [pulls back his chair and breaks into a loud laugh].  You did that! [He laughs.] ...  Say, that’s pretty good.  Now I am beginning to respect you.  Confound it, I would never have given you credit for a stunt like this. [He laughs and slaps his knee.]

Beermann.  Laugh, while I am dying of fright.

Hauser.  Don’t spoil my good impression of you!  I am on the point of admiring you. [He laughs again.] Let me apologize.  I always held you as a wishy-washy bourgeois and now you go and pull this thing off.

Beermann.  You had better give me some advice.  I have not had a quiet moment since I took the book.  I want to destroy it but how can I?  If I tear it up the pieces will be found.

Hauser.  Burn it.

Beermann.  Where?  There is no fire in the house, except in the kitchen range.  If I hide it, I shall always have to run to and fro to see if it is there, and I feel less safe if I have it on my person.  Then I have always a feeling as though that thing were bulging out my pocket; and the police must be missing it by this time.

Hauser.  Oh, tear out the page on which your name appears and send it back anonymously.

Beermann.  Impossible.  My name appears on almost every second page.

Hauser.  Oh ... so.

Beermann.  What shall I do when the police ask me for the book?

Hauser.  There is only one way; you know nothing about it.

Beermann.  But they will be dead certain that I have it.

Hauser.  Remain firm.  For Heaven’s sake don’t fall into the trap that by confessing you will improve this fine job. [A loud and prolonged ringing of the electric bell is heard.]