The gentleman who was just getting into the carriage drew back, and stamped his foot furiously. "Is hell itself let loose against me?" he cried, and gnashed his teeth. As he had made his way cautiously through the darkness a few minutes before to the inn, of which he had taken note as he drove through the village in the afternoon, and where he hoped to find some vehicle to convey him farther, he had met the Neuenfähr driver, who was just harnessing his horses again, for which the landlord, with the best of goodwill, could find no stable-room, at any rate not before a part of the outhouse was cleared out. "The horses will catch cold," the man had said to himself; "the best thing after all will be to drive back." He was still busying himself in the dark over the harness, which had got twisted, when some one who suddenly appeared beside him asked: "Will you give me a lift, my man?" "Where to, sir?" "To Neuenfähr." "What will you pay, sir?" "Anything you like." "Get in, sir!" said the Neuenfähr man, delighted to find that instead of taking his carriage back this long distance empty, he had found a passenger who would pay him anything he liked to ask. He would not take him for nothing, but he must see about this alarm of murder. "He will not come back in a hurry," muttered the gentleman; "and I shall run the risk of meeting him again; it is almost a miracle that he did not see me." He had been standing close to Ottomar as the latter gave his orders to the people, and, to give more authority to his words, mentioned his name, and that it was his aunt and sister who were in danger, and that there was not a moment to lose or it would be too late. The stranger moved farther into the shadow of the barn before which the carriage stood. He would make sure of not being seen in any case. But just then the Neuenfähr man came back in a state of great excitement. The young lady had been stabbed and killed, whom he had brought here with the young gentleman! Heavens and earth, if he had known that it was Herr von Werben! and that the beautiful young lady, his wife, would so soon be murdered by a foreign vagabond--the same no doubt whom he had seen hanging about in Neuenfähr, when he drew up at the inn by the bridge--a young fellow with black hair and black eyes; and he had noticed the black hair again as the fellow rushed out of the house--plainly--he could swear to it. The fellow might attack them on the road; he was not afraid for himself--he did not fear the devil; but if the gentleman preferred to remain here-- In his excitement the brandy he had been drinking before had got into the man's head; he would have willingly remained; he was evidently a person of importance here, and the gentleman had quite staggered back when he spoke of the foreign vagabond, and had muttered something in his black beard which he did not understand. "Shall we remain here, sir?" "No, no, no! Drive on! I will give you double what you ask!"