Our friends now felt inclined for their night's rest, so their host showed them into a room with two beds, and wishing them a good night, left them to undress, and before many minutes had passed both were sound asleep. The following morning early our two friends, in the company of their host, started from the inn to visit the corpse of the murdered executioner. As they entered the hall where the body lay exposed, Fritz instantly recognised the clothes; if not the identical vestments worn by the defunct twelve years ago, at least, of the same colour and material, being, as I have said before, a doublet and hose of crimson, a colour that he seems to have been partial to. "Yes," said Fritz; "these are the Henker's clothes, I've no doubt." Then, after examining the form laid out before him, he was observed to start slightly, and he added in a whisper to his friend: "Ludwig, this is not the body of Franz Wenzel--I'll take my oath of that." "How! Not Franz Wenzel! Who else should it be, then?" "That I am not prepared to say, but it is not the body of the Henker; that is certain. Remember that I passed a night at Wenzel's house; during that time I took note of the features and figure of the Scharfrichter, and though twelve years have passed since I saw him, I can swear----" "But how! His own family have recognised him. What further proof would you have?" Then addressing the landlord, Ludwig said: "Is it true, landlord, that his own family have recognised the body?" "Yes, sir; at least, the son did. I don't know whether his wife did or not, as she has been laid up for ever so long with paralysis, poor soul. It may be she has never been informed of the murder. One does not like to frighten invalids, you know." "Well, well--enough if the corpse has been recognised by the son." "Yes, sir, he recognised it. It is true, he was a little the worse for liquor when they brought him before the corpse of his father; but when is he otherwise, for the matter of that? As sad a young dog as ever lived that same--inherits all the vices of his father. Nevertheless, who is there in the township that does not recognise the Henker's red legs?" "You see, therefore, my friend," said Ludwig, turning to his companion, "that you are mistaken. Everybody recognises him." "I see nothing of the sort," replied the Englishman, doggedly; "and I am still prepared to swear that the corpse before us is not that of Franz Wenzel." "My dear Fritz," said Engstein, "you are obstinate. What reason can you possibly have for saying so?" "Observe the hands of the corpse," said Fritz, in a low tone. "Do they look like the hands of an executioner? They are long and delicate. Those of Franz Wenzel were hard, rough, and hairy, with square stunted fingers; besides, the headsman wore no ring. This hand, though no ring is visible, has a depression on the forefinger, as if the owner were in the constant habit of wearing one."