On the strength of these suspicions Schönleben was arrested, and with him a poor beadmaker, Beutner by name, who was suspected of being his accomplice. The only connection between the two was that Beutner had once helped Schönleben to carry a load of wood into the Sterbenks' house; and as he was passing the window of the counting-house, it was said that he gazed spell-bound at the sight of all the money inside. For not more than this the two were lodged in gaol and subjected to criminal examination. It was hardly thought possible that they could be innocent men. A new clue was, however, soon discovered. A barber named Kirchmeier called on Sterbenk and declared that on the day of the robbery he had seen a cash-box identical in every respect with the one stolen. It was in the room of a working gilder, Mannert, who lived in the same house as Schönleben the messenger. On making a second call at the same room a few days later there was no box to be seen. Kirchmeier deposed that the box was standing under the table near the oven and behind the door; and as this witness was a respectable, well-to-do citizen, bearing the character of an upright, religious man, his testimony was deemed unimpeachable. The poor gilder, Mannert, had also always borne the best of characters, but he, too, was arrested, with his wife and sons. When examined, he denied absolutely that he had ever owned such a box, and although he admitted a slight acquaintance with Schönleben, and that he was employed by Sterbenk, he declared that he knew nothing of the messenger's private affairs. Then the examination of the Mannerts was renewed; but as they still persisted in repudiating all knowledge of the strong-box the Court had recourse to more drastic measures. In those days it was not absolutely required that witnesses should take the oath, which was reserved for extreme cases; it was a last step when evidence was imperfect, and the punishment for perjury was very severe. Kirchmeier signified his perfect willingness to be sworn, and eventually reiterated his charges upon oath. "That which I saw, I saw," he averred. "The green-painted cash-box, with green wooden legs, I saw in the rooms of the man who is now kneeling imploringly before me. I cannot help it. I am quite convinced that in this case I am not mistaken. If I am, his blood be on my head." The Court, after such solemn testimony, could not exonerate the Mannerts and Schönleben; and the public shared this conviction. Excitement over the case was not confined to Nuremberg, but spread through all Germany. So high ran feeling against the accused for their obstinate pleas of innocence, that the mob smashed Schönleben's windows and killed his youngest child as it lay in its mother's arms. [Illustration: "TOGETHER THEY ... LIFTED THE CASH-BOX AND ... CARRIED IT HOME" (p. 84).]