cheeks, possibly the only tears that were shed for the dead man
under the elder-tree. But even this sympathetic soul could find
nothing to say in his praise. She could feel pity for his dreadful
death, but she could not assert that the world had lost anything
by his going out of it. As if saddened by the impossibility of
finding a single good word to say about the dead man, she left the
office with drooping head and lagging step.

Pokorny helped her into the cab that was already waiting before the
door. The office force had got wind of the fact that something
unusual had occurred and were all at the windows to see them drive
off. The three clerks who worked in the department to which Winkler
belonged gathered together to talk the matter over. They were none
of them particularly hit by it, but naturally they were interested
in the discovery in Hietzing, and equally naturally, they tried to
find a few good words to say about the man whose life had ended so
suddenly.

The youngest of them, Fritz Bormann, said some kind words and was
about to wax more enthusiastic, when Degenhart, the eldest clerk,
cut in with the words: "Oh, don't trouble yourself. Nobody ever
liked Winkler here. 'He was not a good man - he was not even a
good worker. This is the first time that he has a reasonable excuse
for neglecting his duties."

"Oh, come, see here! how can you talk about the poor man that way
when he's scarcely cold in death yet," said Fritz indignantly.

Degenhart laughed harshly.