"If I am to be there," said Veitel, "I can do it alone, and shall not require your help. Listen to me. I will contrive that the office shall be empty; that Ehrenthal and the baron shall leave the house at the same moment. I will give you a sign, to say whether the papers are on the table or in the press. It will be dark. You will have about half an hour's time. I will fasten the house door, and unbolt the back door, which is generally closed. It will all be so safe that a child of two years might do it easily." "Safe enough for you," said the old man, dryly, "but not for me." "We have tried what could be done with the law, and it has not answered," cried Veitel; "now we must defy it." He struck the balustrade with his clenched fist, and ground his teeth fiercely. "And if you don't choose to do it, still it shall be done, though I know that all the suspicion will fall upon me, unless I am in Bernhard's room at the time." "Very fine indeed, gallant Itzig," said the man, adjusting his spectacles, so as to observe more closely the expression of the other's countenance. "Since you are so brave, I will not leave you in the lurch. But three hundred." The bargaining then began. The pair squeezed themselves into the farthest corner of the gallery, and whispered together till dark. A few days later, at twilight, Anton entered his friend's sick-room. "I am come to pay you a flying visit, just to see how you are." "Weak," replied Bernhard; "still very weak, and breathing becomes very difficult. If I could only get out, only once out of this gloomy room." "Does your doctor allow you to drive out? If the sun be bright and warm, I will bring a carriage to-morrow and take you a drive." "Yes," cried Bernhard, "you shall come. I shall have something to tell you then." He looked cautiously around. "I have this day received by the townpost a note without a signature." He drew it out from under his pillow, and gave it with a mysterious look to his friend. "Take it: perhaps you know the hand." Anton went to the window and read, "The Baron Rothsattel wishes to speak to you this evening. Contrive, therefore, to be alone with your father." When Anton gave back the note, Bernhard received it reverentially, and replaced it under his pillow. "Do you know the hand?" said he. "No," replied Anton; "the hand seems a feigned one; it is not the young lady's." "Whoever the writer may be," continued Bernhard, dejectedly, "I hope for a good result from this evening's interview. Wohlfart, this dispute lies like a hundred weight on my breast; it takes my breath away. This evening I shall be better; I shall be free."