One day he took his whip from his junk wagon and thrashed Maria with it, gasping the while, "Where is it, you beast?
Where is it?
Tell me where it is; I'll make you speak." "I don' know, I don' know," cried Maria, dodging his blows.

"I'd tell you, Zerkow, if I knew; but I don' know nothing about it.

How can I tell you if I don' know ?" Then one evening matters reached a crisis.

Marcus Schouler was in his room, the room in the flat just over McTeague's "Parlors" which he had always occupied.

It was between eleven and twelve o'clock.