The Schrandeners had armed themselves in a way worthy of the occasion.

For three days they had been busy polishing up their accoutrements.

Those among the disbanded Landwehr-men who still possessed their _Litewka_ had donned it, and pikes and sabres were seen in the crowd.

Possibly they might be called upon to help in an instantaneous administration of justice.

The Landrath's sleigh had entered the village at one o'clock, and, as was customary, put up at the parsonage stable, where Herr Merckel and his son stood ready to welcome the high functionary. There was no gendarme on the box, which greatly mystified the Schrandeners. But perhaps the services of one were not required when they could be depended on to despatch the criminal at the first signal.

Shortly before two, the Landrath, accompanied by the old pastor, left the parsonage and entered the inn by a side door, where Herr Merckel, senior, again was to the fore to receive him, while Felix slouched in the background, piqued at not being treated with what he considered sufficient respect by the civilian.

The Landrath von Krotkeim was a tall, extremely slender man, whose h.o.a.ry leonine head rose with great effect from his contracted, sloping shoulders. There was something awe-inspiring in its pose. He wore, in defiance of the fashion of the period, long whiskers, which flowed behind his ears, mingling with his thick iron-grey mane.

His part in the formation of defences for the Fatherland had been an important and distinguished one. Two years before he had sat as a deputy for the knighthood in the famous _Land-tag_ to which Germany owed the foundation of the Landwehr. He had hailed old York with cheers, and helped to draw up the address to the King. Afterwards he had hastened back to his native place to set the organisation on foot, and had achieved results which made his district the brilliant model that excited the admiring emulation of the whole country. Then arose those marauders attendant on success, vanity and egoism. What at first had been a labour of n.o.ble disinterestedness, gradually degenerated into a peg for self-advertis.e.m.e.nt and a means of memorialising his own fame. For the rest, and long before the treachery of the Cats' Bridge incident had been generally made known to the world, Herr von Krotkeim had by repute been a bitter enemy of the house of Schranden. To hope any favour at his hands would therefore be over-sanguine indeed. But Boleslav had abandoned hope of any kind as he entered the square in front of the church. He advanced composed, and almost indifferent, towards the crowd that formed a cordon round the inn. He had, on his way, cast one shy glance at the parsonage, where in a window he fancied he had seen a fair face which withdrew into shadow directly he smiled up at it. He was received by a murmur of malignant tongues, but the cordon let him through, understanding enough to know that, without him, the game they were antic.i.p.ating with such keen relish could not be played.

At the entrance to the best parlour, he stood face to face with the great man with the lion's mane, on either side of whom sat the old pastor and Herr Merckel. Felix lounged in the window-sill, trying to a.s.sume an air of nonchalance. He now considered his former playmate too inferior an object on which even to bestow his hate. But the old landlord greeted Boleslav with a benign smile. Had he come there with the purpose of treating every one present to a bottle of the celebrated Muscat wine, the smile could not have been more smugly servile.

Lightning-flashes irradiated from beneath the prominent brows of the old pastor, and the Landrath sat coolly contemplating his fingers, which were white and bony as a skeleton's. Boleslav felt his bosom swell proudly. "His hand against every man; every man's hand against him." It was the old story!

A voice from the crowd hiccoughed out some unflattering remark. The Schrandeners received it with laughter.

"It's the poor father, the unhappy father," old Merckel whispered to the Landrath, with a melancholy elevation of his eyebrows.

"As you have summoned me here," exclaimed Boleslav, "I demand your protection from the insults of the mob!"

The Landrath drooped his eyelids and bowed.

"Silence, dear people!" he commanded, stroking his clean-shaven chin, and then he added, "I shall have any person who makes a disturbance ejected."

He consulted a green portfolio that lay spread before him on the table.

Behind him a little man in grey was energetically trying goose quills.

Probably he was the reporter.

The examination began. With frigid politeness the Landrath put the usual questions.

"Where have you resided hitherto?"

Boleslav enumerated several places.

"Your word is of course to be trusted, _Herr Baron_, but have you proofs?"

"No."

"Up to what date does your answer hold good?"

"Till the spring of the year '13."

"After that?"

"I entered the army."

"Have you proofs to support that statement?"

"No."

"I regret to say that the name von Schranden is not to be found in the army list."

"I enlisted under another."

"Under the name of Baumgart?"

"Yes."

"For what reason?"

There was silence. Boleslav bit his lips.

"Ha, ha!" came triumphantly from the window. The exclamation put Boleslav on his mettle.

"To have borne my real name would have involved me in difficulties."

"Why?"

"Because, through a rumour which I was powerless to contradict, there was a blot on that name."

"What rumour?"

It was clear this man intended to humiliate him to the dust before pa.s.sing on him the inevitable sentence.

"You know it," he murmured faintly between his closed teeth.

The Landrath bowed. "Nevertheless I must ask for information on the subject."

"I decline to give it."

The mob sent up a shout of scornful laughter.

"Do for him at once! put him in chains!" roared the same hiccoughing voice that had made use of an abusive epithet earlier in the proceedings.

The Landrath gracefully waved his long white hands.

"A note has been made of that refusal?" he asked without turning round.

A small quavering pipe behind him, which greatly amused the Schrandeners, answered in the affirmative.

Then he continued with imperturbable politeness.

"May I ask you, then, to tell me to which company you were attached?"

Boleslav did so, and also gave the names of his Heide comrades.