mademoiselle beata von holstein krona. charming, old lady, tremendously wealthy and a great benefactress. oh, mademoiselle. my true love. baron skanskorg. baron? i think he's the fellow who stole those jewels. let out the mummy and the party will be complete. polly. jacob, there? funny man. shall we have the young people in too? no, not the young. let them be spared. - shall we take tea? - why? none of us likes tea. why pretend we do? yeah, then, shall we talk? about the weather, which we know? ask about each others health? we know that too. i prefer silence. then you can hear thoughts, see the past. silence hides nothing, words conceal. i read the other day that differences of language arose through the needs of primitive people to keep their tribal secrets private. languages are ciphers. nevertheless, the time does come when that which is most secret must be revealed, when the mask must be stripped from the deceiver's face, when the identity of the criminal must be exposed. what a silence. here, for example, in this resp