story of Annamarie.... It is the one way to know the truth in this house--
the only way.... There in your hand--the letter.... He will never
speak.... The letter for Catherine.

MARTA _sets down the picture and the letter; but something prompts her to
look at them; however, before she can carry out her impulse,_ FREDERIK
_starts up._

FREDERIK. My God! How you startled me! [MARTA _sets down the tray._] Oh!
To be off and out of this old rat-trap. [_He wipes his forehead with his
black-bordered handkerchief._] I mean--our loss comes home to us so keenly
here where we are accustomed to see him.

MARTA. A cup of coffee, sir?

FREDERIK. No, no, no.

MARTA. [_Pathetically._] I thought you wished to keep to your uncle's
customs.... He always took it at this time.

FREDERIK. [_Recovering._] Yes, yes, of course.

MARTA. ... No word?...

FREDERIK. [_Hesitates._] What do you mean?

MARTA. No letter?

FREDERIK. Letter?... [_Covering the letter with his hand._] From whom?...