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The officials stared at each other, dumfounded; my comrades seemed to cheer up a bit. “I am the companion of these unfortunate people,” I continued, “and I say it without shame, for every one of them is honest, even if he is poor, and there is not one among them capable of committing the crimes imputed to him.”

Again silence followed. Dame Bertha began to weep quietly. At last the bailiff aroused himself. Looking at me sharply, he said: “Where do you pretend to deliver the assassin into our hands?” “Right here in this very house! And to convince you of it, I only ask for a moment’s private conversation.” “Let us hear what you have to say,” he replied, rising. He motioned Madoc to follow us; the others remained. We left the room. I went hastily up the stairs, with the others at my heels. Pausing at the window on the third floor, I showed them the man’s footprints in the snow. “Those are the murderer’s tracks!” I said; “he visits this house every night. Yesterday he came at two in the morning; last night he returned, and he will undoubtedly be back again this evening.”

The bailiff and Madoc examined the footprints without a word. “How do you know that these are the murderer’s tracks?” asked the chief of police, doubtfully. Thereupon I told him of the man’s appearance in our loft. I pointed out to them the little window above us through which I had watched him as he fled in the moonlight, and which Wilfred had not seen, as he remained in bed. I admitted that it was mere chance that had led me to the discovery of the tracks made the night before.

“It is strange!” muttered the bailiff; “this greatly modifies the position of the accused. But how do you explain the presence of the robber in the cellar?” “That robber was myself.” I now related briefly everything that had taken place from the time of my comrades’ arrest until the moment of my flight from the inn. “That will do,” said the bailiff; and, turning toward the chief of police, he added: “I must admit, Madoc, that the depositions of these musicians never seemed to me very conclusive of their guilt; moreover, their passports established an alibi difficult to controvert. Nevertheless, young man,” turning to me, “in spite of the plausibility of the proofs you have given us, you must remain in our power until they are verified. Keep him in sight, Madoc, and take your measures accordingly.” The bailiff descended the stairs thoughtfully, and, refolding his papers, he said, without continuing the examination: “Let the accused be taken back to the prison!” And with a scornful glance at the landlady, he departed, followed by the secretary. Madoc alone remained with two officials.

“Madame,” he said to Dame Gredel, “maintain the strictest secrecy about what has happened, and give this brave young man the same room he occupied night before last.” Madoc’s look and emphasis admitted of no reply. Dame Gredel swore she would do whatever was required of her if she could only be rid of the robbers! Madoc replied: “We shall stay here all day and to-night to protect you. Go about your work in peace, and begin by giving us some breakfast. My good fellow, you will give us the pleasure of dining with us?” My situation did not permit me to decline. I accepted accordingly, and we soon found ourselves seated before a leg of ham and a jug of Rhine wine. Other people arrived from time to time, and endeavored to elicit the confidence of Dame Gredel and Annette, but they maintained a discreet silence, for which they deserve no little credit. We spent the afternoon smoking our pipes and emptying our mugs; no one paid any attention to us.

The chief of police, in spite of his sallow face, piercing glance, pale lips, and sharp nose, was excellent company after a bottle or two; he told us some excellent stories, and at every word of his the other two burst out laughing. I remained gloomy and silent. “Come, young fellow!” he said with a smile, “forget for a little the death of your respectable grandmother. Take a drop, and put your troublesome thoughts to flight.”