For a week after Anna's escape Herman Klein had sat alone and brooded.
Entirely alone now, for following a stormy scene on his discovery of
Anna's disappearance, Katie had gone too.

"I don't know where she is," she had said, angrily, "and if I did know I
wouldn't tell you. If I was her I'd have the law on you. Don't you look
at that strap. You lay a hand on me and I'll kill you. If you think I'm
afraid of you, you can think again."

"She is my daughter, and not yet of age," Herman said heavily. "You tell
her for me that she comes back, or I go and bring her."

"Yah!" Katie jeered. "You try it! She's got marks on her that'll jail
you." And on his failure to reply her courage mounted. "This ain't
Germany, you know. They know how to treat women over here. And you ask
me"--her voice rose--"and I'll just say that there's queer comings and
goings here with that Rudolph. I've heard him say some things that'll
lock him up good and tight."

For all his rage, Teutonic caution warned him not to lay hands on the
girl. But his anger against her almost strangled him. Indeed, when she
came down stairs, dragging her heavy suitcase, he took a step or two
toward her, with his fists clenched. She stopped, terrified.