That afternoon the light knocking was heard again, and Tinkeles reappeared. He looked cautiously around the room, and approached Anton. "Allow me to ask," said he, with a confidential wink, "is it really true that you lent him twenty ducats, and would lend him more if he wished?" Anton assented to both these propositions. "And now," said he, "tell me plainly what is running in your head, for I see you have something to disclose." Tinkeles made a sly face, and winked harder. "Even though he be your good friend, beware of lending him money. If you know what you are about, you will lend him no more money." "And why not?" inquired Anton. "Your good advice is useless, unless I know on what it is founded." "And if I tell you what I know, will you intercede for me with Mr. Schroeter, so that he may not think about the wagons when he sees me in his counting-house?" "I will tell him that you have behaved well in other respects. It will be for him to decide what he will do." "You will intercede for me," said Tinkeles; "that's enough. Things are going ill with Von Rothsattel, the father of this young man--very ill. Misfortune's black hand is raised over him. He is a lost man. There is no saving him." "How do you know this?" cried Anton, horrified. "But it is impossible," he added, more calmly; "it is a lie, a mere idle rumor." "Believe my words," said the Jew, impressively. "His father is in the hands of one who walks about in secret, like the angel of destruction. He goes and lays his noose around the necks of the men he has singled out without any one seeing him. He tightens the noose, and they fall around like ninepins. Why should you lend your money to those who have the noose around their neck?" "Who is this demon who has the baron in his power?" cried Anton, in uncontrollable excitement. "What signifies the name?" coolly replied the Galician. "Even if I knew it I would not tell it, and if I told it it could do you no good, nor the baron either, for you know him not, and he knows him not." "Is it Ehrenthal?" inquired Anton. "I can not tell the name," rejoined the trader, shrugging his shoulders; "but it is not Hirsch Ehrenthal." "If I am to believe your words, and if you wish to do me a service," continued Anton, more composedly, "you must give me exact information. I must know this man's name--must know all that you have heard of him and of the baron."