METROPOLIS breath that gushed in heaves from Rotwang's breast as though from a boiling, poisoned source. "Where did you get the plan?" the great inventor asked at last. Though it was less a question than an expression of astonished anger. "That is not the point," answered Joh Fredersen. «It is ahout this that I have come to you. There does not seem to be a soul in Metropolis who can make anything of it:' Rotwang's laughter interrupted him. "Your poor scholarsl" cried the laughter. <"What a task you have set them, Joh Fredersen. How many hundredweights of printed paper haveyou forced them to heave over. I am sure there is no town on the globe. from the construction of the old Tower of Babel onward, which they have not snuHled through from North to South. Oh-if you could only Smile, Parodyl U only you already had eyes to wink at me. But laugh, at least, Parody! Laugh, rippingly, at the great scholars to whom the ground under their feet is foreign'" The being obeyed. It laughed, ripplingly. "Then you know the plan, or what it represents?" asked Joh Fredersen, through the laughter. "Yes. by my poor soul. I know it," answered Rotwang. "But, by my poor soul. I am not going to tell you what it is until you tell me where you got the plan." Joh Fredersen reflected. Rolwang did not take his gaze from him. "Do not try to lie to me. Joh Fredersen," he said softly, and with a whimsical melancholy. "'Somebody found the paper." began .Joh Fredersen. "Who-somebody?" "One of my foremen." "Grot?" "Yes, Grot." "Where did he Bnd the plan?" "In the pocket of a workman who waS killed in the acci~ dent to the Geyser machine." «Gro~, brought you the paper?" "Yes. "And the meaning of the plan seemed to be unknown to him?"
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