Upon such a stage as this he felt as if born anew. It was here that he had inaugurated his reign of power, when the war sent him from his South Sea plantations back to his home, a ruined man, and this domination of his he could not renounce. While these thoughts were passing through his mind he went to the detective and asked what had happened. “You must inquire of the State Attorney, sir,” said the man. “Dr. von Wenk is just outside.” Mabuse turned pale and walked away, going rapidly towards the Privy Councillor, whom he saw still sitting in the front row. As he went, he felt in his pocket to make sure that his revolver was safe, and sensations of hatred and defiance went through his whole body, fastening as it were like a brand upon his mental image of Wenk. “First of all you, and then ...” he said to himself, but he was already smiling in the Councillor’s face. “Your hypnotic powers,” said the latter, “seem to be giving the State Attorney some trouble!” “Is that Dr. Wenk?” said Mabuse, drawing back as if astonished. “I saw him just now going from seat to seat and fixing an eagle eye on everybody here, as if to pierce through coat, waistcoat and shirt to reach a guilt-burdened conscience. He does not seem to have found his man, however.” Mabuse’s breast heaved, inflated at the thought of his success. He felt like a horse in sight of its manger after a long and weary road. Although he clearly understood what the words implied, he nevertheless asked the Councillor, “How do you know that?” “It is quite simple, for if he had found his man, he would have let one of the detectives take him out without disturbing your lecture.” “That is true,” said Mabuse. “Let us go.” He pressed towards the door, taking the Councillor with him. He was thoroughly on the alert, looking behind him to see that he did not lose touch with Wendel, and also ahead, where lay the danger he wished to avoid. Whenever any movement threatened to separate him from the elderly savant, he used all the cunning at his command to get near him again. It was above all essential not to leave the hall exposed to Wenk’s gaze as a solitary individual. The Councillor, who was old and well known, must help him to throw the hound off the scent. He was aged, however, and could not hurry; but Mabuse dared not be the last one to leave, closely eyed as he would be by a disappointed man who had not found the quarry he sought. There were still some others behind him, to whose party he might attach himself, so that he need not be the last.