BEERMANN. It is not in the Police Department either.
HAUSER. Of course it is there. Where else should it be?
BEERMANN [indicating his side pocket]. Here.
HAUSER [amazed]. What?
BEERMANN [takes the diary out of his side pocket and places it on
the table]. Here it is.
HAUSER. So, this is the celebrated diary of Madame Hauteville.
[Beermann nods.] Who gave it to you?
BEERMANN. Nobody. I just took it.
HAUSER. You mean; you sto ...
BEERMANN. ... Stole it, yes, sir.
HAUSER [pulls back his chair and breaks into a loud laugh]. You
did that! [He laughs.] ... Say, that's pretty good. Now I am
beginning to respect you. Confound it, I would never have given
you credit for a stunt like this. [He laughs and slaps his knee.]
BEERMANN. Laugh, while I am dying of fright.
HAUSER. Don't spoil my good impression of you! I am on the point
of admiring you. [He laughs again.] Let me apologize. I always
held you as a wishy-washy bourgeois and now you go and pull this
thing off.
BEERMANN. You had better give me some advice. I have not had a
quiet moment since I took the book. I want to destroy it but how
can I? If I tear it up the pieces will be found.
HAUSER. Burn it.
BEERMANN. Where? There is no fire in the house, except in the
kitchen range. If I hide it, I shall always have to run to and fro
to see if it is there, and I feel less safe if I have it on my
person.
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