"Probably he took every care to save that first," thought Boleslav, and had not the presence of his father's corpse restrained him, he would have pulled it down from the wall, and trampled it under foot. A case containing arms stood in a corner. The newest and most costly of shooting weapons were ranged there, including every variety of pistol, sword, and spear. Above it was unrolled a plan of the Castle island, showing the spots where ingeniously contrived man-traps, mines, and spring-guns awaited the trespasser--roughly calculated, there were over a hundred of them. Boleslav shuddered. Surely this unhappy man had been punished enough for his misdeeds in the life he had been compelled to lead during his last few years on earth! Caged up like a hunted wild beast, his murderous contrivances were a perpetual source of menace to himself, for to have forgotten for a moment the position of one of his death-traps must have instantly proved fatal. When Boleslav went out at the door he stumbled over Regina, who was cowering on the threshold. She started to her feet with a low cry of pain, like the whine of a trodden-on dog. He felt a momentary thrill of compassion for her, but it vanished before he had spoken the kind words that involuntarily rose to his lips. "What were you lying there for?" he inquired harshly. "It's my place," she answered, always regarding him with the same humble, luminous glance. "Indeed? It's a dog's place as a rule." "It's mine too." "Your name is Regina Hackelberg?" "Yes, _gnäd'ger Junker_." "It was you who led the French over the Cats' Bridge?" "Yes, _gnäd'ger Junker_." "Why did you do it?" "Because I was told to do it." "Who told you?" She cast down her eyes. "Why don't you answer?" "Because I was forbidden to tell." "Who forbade you; my--_he_?" "Yes; the _gnäd'ger Herr_." "So that's what you call him, eh?" "Yes, _gnäd'ger Junker_." "Call me, if you please, _Herr_, and not _Junker_. I am not _Junker_." "Very well, _gnäd'ger Herr_." "_Herr_, I say--simply _Herr_. Do you understand?" "Yes, _gnäd'ger Herr_." "_Himmelkreuzdonnerwetter_! Didn't I say you were to call me _Herr_, without any prefix?" She trembled nervously at his oath; but when it dawned on her what he meant, a smile of pleasure illumined her face. "I see, _Herr_," she said, and nodded. "I shall expect you to tell me everything," he went on. "Do you hear?" "The _gnäd'ger Herr_ did not wish me to speak about it.... Not to any one." "Did he say not to _any one_?" "Yes." He bit his lip. Why should he inquire further into the matter, when it was all as clear as daylight? This creature had been used as a tool because she was stupid, and bad enough to let herself be so used. "How old were you at the time the French came?" Again she cast down her eyes. "Fifteen, _Herr_." Once more he felt softened towards her, but almost immediately dark suspicion stifled his pity. "You were paid for your work?" he asked between his clenched teeth.