him as the bird does at the snake. It was
the face of a devil into which he gazed; the red hair stood up
bristling; hellish dread and hate were in every ugly feature. Bernhard
closed his eyes, and covered them with his hand. But the face came
nearer still, and a hoarse voice whispered in his ear.

Meanwhile two men stood in the office below, and looked at each other in
stupid amazement. The casket and its contents were gone. The deeds that
the baron had laid on the desk were gone too. Ehrenthal had unlocked the
door as usual. There was nothing wrong with the bolts. Every thing stood
in its right place. If any money had been taken out of the drawer, it
could be but very little. There was not a sign of the well-secured
shutters having been touched; it was inexplicable how the documents
could have been taken away.

Then they searched the whole ground floor: nothing to be seen--even the
house door was locked. They recollected that the cautious book-keeper
had done that as they went up stairs. Again they went back to the office
and searched every corner, but more rapidly and more hopelessly than
before. Then they sat over against each other, watching for some token
of treachery; and again they sprang up, and mutually poured out such
reproaches as only despair can invent.

The papers had vanished from Ehrenthal's office just as he had
unwillingly yielded to his son's entreaties for a reconciliation with
the baron. He had not, indeed, made up his mind to it--he had only gone
to fetch the papers. Would any one believe that those papers were
stolen? Would his own son believe him?

And as for the baron, his loss was greater still. He had just had a hope
of rescue, now he fell again into an abyss beyond his fathoming. His
notes of hand were in some stranger's possession. If the thief
understood how to make use of them--nay, if the thief were only
apprehended, he was lost; and if they were never found again, still he
was equally lost. He was not in a condition to make any arrangement with
Ehrenthal; he was not in a condition to pay any of his creditors; he was
lost beyond possibility of deliverance. Before him lay poverty, failure,
disgrace. Again there recurred to his mind that court of honor, his
fellow-officers, and the unfortunate young man who had destroyed
himself. He had been obliged to view the body; he knew how one looks who
has died thus; he knew too, now, how a man comes to die. Once he had
shuddered at the image of