"Hear me, Schmeie," said Anton, looking wondering at the Galician, who still harped upon the same string, trying to regain his composure by dint of speaking. "Hear me, my lad; you were in this town when our wagons were plundered--you saw from some hiding-place or other our quarrel with the landlord--you know this man's character, and yet you remain here; and now I will just tell you, in so many words, what you have half confessed to me--you knew of the unloading of the wagons, and, more, you had an interest in the carriers remaining behind; and in short, you and the landlord are in the same boat. After what you have now said, I shall not let you go till I know all. You shall either come with me to my room, and there freely confess, or I will take you to the soldiers, and have you examined by them." Tinkeles was annihilated. "God of my fathers, it is fearful--it is fearful!" whined he, and his teeth chattered. Anton felt compassion for his great terror, and said, "Come with me, Tinkeles, and I promise you that if you make a candid confession nothing shall be done to you." "What shall I confess to the gentleman?" groaned Tinkeles; "I, who have nothing to confess." "If you will not come at once, I call the soldiers," said Anton, roughly. "No soldiers," implored Tinkeles, shuddering again. "I will come with you, and will tell you what I know, if you will promise to betray me to no one, not to your principal, not to Mausche Fischel, and not either to the wicked man, the landlord, and not to any soldiers." "Come," said Anton, pointing down the street. And so he led away the reluctant Tinkeles like a prisoner, and never took his eyes off him, fearing that he would follow the suggestions of his evil conscience, and run off down some side street. The Galician, however, had not courage to do this, but crept along by Anton, looked toward him every now and then, sighing deeply, and gurgled out unintelligible words. Arrived at Anton's lodging, he began of his own accord: "It has been a weight on my heart--I have not been able to sleep--I have not been able to eat or drink; and whenever I ran here or there on business, it has lain on my soul just as a stone does in a glass--when one tries to drink, the stone falls against the teeth, and the water spills. Alas! what have I not spilled!" "Go on," said Anton, again mollified by the candid confession.