[Reisacher looks at him with amusement.  A knock at the door.]

Stroebel [formally].  Come in!

Beermann [enters hastily from the left.  He breathes heavily.  He has a handkerchief in his hand, with which he frequently mops his brow].  Is this the proper department at last?  I am being sent all around the building. [Breathing heavily.] I hope I am finally in the proper bureau.

Stroebel.  What do you want?

Beermann.  Pardon me for a moment while I catch my breath.  I climbed twice to the third floor and again down to the ground floor.  The Commissioner sent me to room 147 and there they told me to go to room 174.

Stroebel.  Who sent you?

Beermann [taking a deep breath].  The Commissioner.  I really wanted to speak to him personally, but he told me I should go to the gentleman who has “Morality.”  Are you the gentleman who has all the morality?

Stroebel.  Certainly.

Beermann.  At last. [Mopping his braze.] Good God? when a matter is so urgent and so much depends on it they ought not to chase one all over the building.  I must rest a bit.  All this excitement and running up and down stairs. ...  So you are the gentleman who has the matter in hand.

Stroebel.  What matter?

Beermann.  On Saturday night a lady was arrested.  A Madam de Hauteville, and certain papers were taken from her.  Have you those papers here?

Stroebel.  What business is that of yours?

Beermann.  My name is Beermann; Fritz Beermann, the banker.  I am the Chairman of the Society for the Suppression of Vice.

Stroebel [very politely].  Oh, indeed!  Pardon me!  I didn’t recall your name immediately, but I was expecting you.

Beermann [startled].  You—­were expecting—­me?

Stroebel.  The Commissioner said that you would undoubtedly call on us.

Beermann.  He said that I undoubtedly would call?  But he never mentioned a word to me about that, and I saw him just a moment ago.  Perhaps after all it will be better if I go down to see him again?

Stroebel.  That is not necessary.  I have full charge of the matter.

Beermann.  Oh, yes, quite right; you have charge of the matter.  And you have those writings here too?

Stroebel.  The diary? [He indicates the desk.] Here it is.

Beermann [peeps anxiously over].  Then it is a regular diary?

Stroebel.  Quite correctly kept.  Gives date and names.  Even little jesting remarks about the people concerned.

Beermann [shouts].  But that is an unheard of insolence!

Stroebel.  Yes.

Beermann.  Why does she write such things?  To what purpose?  Can’t she herself realize how dangerous it is?  Fancy, a woman whose whole stock in trade is secrecy, keeping an address hook of her patrons.  Confound her!