There he found Schrotter; Mayboom was also there sobbing, and a tearful old servant.

In an arm chair near the bed was Dorfling, still in his dress coat and tie, his head sunk on his breast, his face hardly whiter than in life, his arms hanging down, and in the middle of the white shirt-front a great red stain.

On the floor lay a revolver.
Wilhelm, horrified, took his friend's hand.

It was still quite warm.
His agonizing look sought Schrotter's, who answered in a hushed voice, "He is dead." Then his tears broke out, and his trembling fingers had hardly strength to close the lids over his friend's eyes, those eyes which looked so strangely quiet and peaceful as if they now knew the answer to the Great Secret..