Styrum had already taken a thorough dislike to Count Repuin, from witnessing his behaviour towards Fran von Sorr. Now, as he marked the triumphant malice that mingled with the contempt expressed in his face, this dislike deepened to what was almost a horror. He divined what would be the solution of the riddle of the lost money; he remembered all that the Assessor had said of Sorr, and, recalling the keen scrutiny that Repuin had bestowed upon Sorr's movements at the gaming-table, he could not doubt why the Russian had summoned the pale, trembling wretch before him. Still, he could not understand the triumph with which Repuin was regarding the detected thief. Was he not, according to the Assessor's report, the man's intimate friend? What reason could he have for sacrificing him merely to restore some lost money to a stranger? This riddle Styrum could not solve, for it was incredible that Repuin should act thus, simply from indignation at Sorr's dishonesty. After a moment's pause the Russian turned to Styrum: "Do you now guess, Count, where your hundred-thaler note will be found? You do not reply? Well, I will tell you; it is at present in Herr von Sorr's breast-pocket, whither it was conveyed from your pocket-book, with immense dexterity it is true, but not dexterously enough to elude my vigilance. He is the thief,--does he dare to deny it?" He did not dare. Repuin's words seemed to annihilate him, all the more that they were uttered by a man whom he had thought his friend. Pale and trembling, unable to articulate a word in self-defence, he bowed before the terrible fate that had thus overtaken him. All power of resistance seemed crushed out of him. In silence he awaited his sentence. "Give back the stolen note to Count Styrum," the Russian ordered. Again he obeyed; he was incapable of thought,--Repuin's iron will ruled him irresistibly. Automatically be put his hand into his breast-pocket, took out the note, and handed it to Count Styrum. "I have kept my word," Repuin continued. "You are again in possession of the missing note. We must now consider what is to be done with this scoundrel. It is your part, as the sufferer by his theft, to decide this. Shall we deliver him over to justice and a jail? He is ripe for it; this is not his first crime of the kind, as his skill in committing it testifies. Let us take the gentlemen in the next room into council, and send for the police. What say you, Count?" "For God's sake, have mercy upon me!" With this cry Sorr threw himself at the Russian's feet. But Repuin thrust him from him. "Hands off, scoundrel! To me you appeal in vain. There stands your judge!" He pointed as he spoke to Count Styrum, and to him the wretched Sorr turned with clasped hands. "Spare me, Count!" he implored. "I have given you back the note. Have pity!"