After a time he came back, "It isn't there," he said mournfully, "it has been stolen from me."--"That's a good joke!" working himself into a rage. "My three hundred pounds were not stolen, at least you said they were not, and now you say your book is stolen, because it suits you to say so."--"Oh God!" cried the old man, "give me time!" He clasped his hands together: "Oh God, my book is gone."--"Yes," cried Alick, "and the labourer Regel is also gone, and everyone knows how he escaped. My three hundred pounds are also gone, and everyone knows where they are to be found. Have you noted them in the book?" he asked advancing close to Hawermann, and looking him full in the face.--The old man stared at him, and then looking all round as if to make sure where he was, let his clasped hands fall to his side. He shivered from head to foot as does a giant river when about to break its icy fetters, and the blood rushed through his limbs and tingled in his face, like the waters of the great river, when they have freed themselves from their bonds, and rush swiftly on their course carrying all before them. Beware of such times, children of men! "Scoundrel!" he shouted, springing upon Alick, who had: retreated a few steps when he saw the expression of the other's face. "Scoundrel!" he cried, "my honest name..." Alick got into a corner and seized the weapon that was always kept there. "Scoundrel!" cried the old man, "your gun and my honest name!" And now began a violent struggle for possession of the gun, which the bailiff caught by the stock and tried to wrench out of his opponent's hand. Bang! The gun went off.--"Oh Lord!" cried Alick, falling back upon the sofa. The old man stood beside him with the gun in his hand.--The door opened, and Mrs. von Rambow rushed up to her husband: "What is it? What's the matter?" she exclaimed, and all the love she had ever felt for him came back with a rush. "Oh, what is this? Blood!"--"Never mind," said Alick, trying to raise himself, "it's only my arm."--The old man stood motionless with the gun in his hand. His fury was calmed, but he felt that he had done an evil deed that he could never wash out however long he might live.--Daniel and the housemaid both ran into the room, and with their help Alick's coat was taken off and he was laid upon the sofa. His arm was much lacerated by the shot, and the blood dripped upon the floor.--"Go for a doctor," said Mrs. von Rambow, while she tried to stop the flow of blood by binding handkerchiefs round her husband's arm. She had not enough to be of any use, so she rose to fetch more. She had to pass Hawermann on her way to the door. He was standing pale and motionless by his master's side. "Murderer!" she said as she went out, and again when she came in she repeated: "Murderer!" The old man made no reply, but Alick raised himself, and said: "No, Frida, no. He is not that," for even an unrighteous man speaks the truth when he feels that he has escaped death by a hair's breadth,