Liebermann winkled the ring from the fob-pocket of his waistcoat and held it up for her to see. Clara looked at it for a moment, somewhat bemused.
'Give me your hand,' said Liebermann softly.
Clara, suddenly silenced, offered him a slim white finger.
Liebermann slid the ring over her knuckle and kissed her forehead.
She stretched out her arm and rocked her hand from side to side. The movement was gauche but endearing. The diamonds flashed and glinted around the sapphire heart-stone, making Clara laugh with innocent pleasure.
'It fits perfectly,' she gasped.
And it did.
Clara threw her arms around Liebermann's waist and pressed her face into his chest. His arms closed around her and he gazed across the gardens, beyond the brooding, melancholy sphinxes and out over the city towards the distant blue hills.
73
A SCABROUS CHIN, bloodshot eyes, and a necktie hanging from his trouser pocket all suggested that Heinrich Holderlin had spent an uncomfortable and sleepless night in his cell. The banker's former gravitas had deserted him. He no longer appeared dignified and well groomed but shabby and irresolute. Even though Rheinhardt accepted that this pathetic figure just might be a ruthless and brutal murderer, his miserable countenance evoked only pity.
At Liebermann's request, Holderlin had been removed from his cell and escorted to a room with a divan. This was not to von Bulow's liking but the Commissioner had overruled his objections. Holderlin was now supine, staring at the ceiling with hollow, frantic eyes.
Liebermann had assumed his usual position, seated at the head of the divan just beyond Holderlin's view.
'I swear to you,' said Holderlin, 'I met with her once – and once only. I was a fool, I admit it, a stupid fool. She made an appointment at the bank – declared that she would soon be receiving a large inheritance and asked if I would be willing to give her some financial advice. She was a cunning little minx, believe me. She said things calculated to flatter my vanity. Things about my office, my position and—'
'Yes?'
'My appearance.' Holderlin sighed. 'As if a young woman like her . . . it's ridiculous, I know. What an idiot! Yet at the time I didn't so much as pause to question her motives. When she suggested that we should meet for lunch on the Prater the following day I agreed. You must understand this was most irregular. Exceptional, in fact. I'm not like
He glanced at Rheinhardt.
'The other Inspector, von Bulow, he's wrong, I tell you. We weren't lovers. The babies she was carrying – they weren't mine! And before yesterday, I'd never seen those dreadful photographs. She hadn't threatened me with blackmail – I don't know what she was up to.'
'Did you see Fraulein Lowenstein again, after that meeting on the Prater?'
'No, it was the last time I saw her. Within the week she was dead.'
The banker suddenly fell silent, but his breathing was loud and wheezy.
'And anyway,' he began again. 'Even if she had threatened me – I wouldn't have killed her, for God's sake. I'm not insane.'
Liebermann crossed his legs and sat back in his chair.
'Why did you interrupt Madame de Rougemont, Herr Holderlin?'
'Isn't it obvious?'
Liebermann remained silent.
'I didn't believe I was going to be accused of murder – if that's what you're thinking. However, I did believe it possible that Madame de Rougemont might receive a flirtatious or affectionate communication from Fraulein Lowenstein. Something that might arouse my wife's suspicion. That de Rougemont woman was uncanny . . .'
'But your relationship with the Fraulein had not become very intimate?'
'No, Herr Doctor, it hadn't. But if your conscience is ordinarily clear, then even a relatively minor transgression acquires considerable significance. Please, Herr Doctor, I beg of you, make sure that my wife hears nothing about this. She is a good woman and it would break her heart. She is beside herself already.'
Liebermann pressed a crease from his trousers and made a steeple with his fingers.
'Herr Holderlin, how did you sleep last night?'
'Not very well – as you can imagine.'
'And did you dream?'
Holderlin paused for a moment.
'Yes . . .' he said, slowly and uncertainly.
'What did you dream?'
Holderlin looked towards Rheinhardt quizzically. The Inspector responded with a polite, muted smile but he stopped smiling when he noticed Liebermann frowning and shaking his head.
'Herr Holderlin?' asked Liebermann, raising his voice slightly.
The banker rolled his head back and said: 'You want to know what I dreamt? Last night?'
'Yes.'
'I don't know – some nonsense about my mother.'
'Go on . . .'
Holderlin sighed, too exhausted to quibble.
'I was in a nursery – on a rocking horse.'
'Were you a child in this dream?'
'Yes, I suppose I must have been.'
'Was the nursery real? Did you recognise it?'
'Yes, it was in the house where I grew up: a big house in Penzing. I was on my rocking horse – pretending to race – and I noticed a box on the floor.'
'What kind of box?'
'It belonged to my mother.'
'A jewellery box?'
'Yes. Ivory – with mother-of-pearl inlay. I remember that when it was opened it played a tune.
'What happened next?'
'I got off the horse, picked up the box and tried to open it. But the lid was stuck. Then my mother appeared and – and reprimanded me – scolded me. Are you sure you want to hear all this rubbish, Herr
Doctor?'
'Very sure.'
'Even though the box was in my hands, I protested. Which seems absurd now – but in the dream it seemed to make sense, seemed reasonable. Then I woke up.'
Liebermann paused for a moment. Then, turning to Rheinhardt, he said: 'That will be all, Inspector.' Gently touching Holderlin's shoulder, he added: 'Thank you, Herr Holderlin.'
The banker sat up.
'We're finished?'
'Yes.'
Holderlin got off the divan and took a few uncertain steps into the middle of the room. He looked feeble and confused. The necktie fell out of his pocket and Liebermann picked it up for him.
'Thank you,' Holderlin whispered, looping the tie loosely around his neck.
Rheinhardt opened the door and ushered him into the corridor, where two constables were waiting for him.
'Well?' said Rheinhardt. 'What do you think?'
