"I do not think of committing the matter to strangers and officials," answered the Professor. "We have a person in the neighborhood whose good fortune and acuteness in tracing out rarities is wonderful. I have a mind to tell Magister Knips of the manuscript; he may lay aside his proof-sheets for a few days, travel for us to Rossau, and there examine the ground." The Doctor jumped up. "That will never do. Knips is not the man to trust with such a secret." "I have always found him trustworthy," replied the Professor. "He is wonderfully skillful and well-informed." "To me it would appear a desecration of this fine discovery, to employ such a man," answered Fritz, "and I would never consent to it." "In that case," cried the Professor, "I have made up my mind. The vacation is at hand; I will go myself to the old house. And as you, my friend, intended to travel for a few days, you must accompany me; we shall go together. Here is my hand on it." "With all my heart," cried the Doctor, clasping his friend's hand. "We will penetrate into the manor-house, and summon the spirits which hover over the treasure." "We will first come to an understanding with the owner of the house. Then we shall see what is to be done. Meanwhile let us keep the affair secret." "That is right," assented Fritz; and the friends descended, well satisfied, into the garden of Mr. Hahn, and, pausing for a few moments beneath the White Muse, they consulted with regard to the opening of the campaign. The imagination of the Scholar was fast pent up by his methodical train of thought; but in the depths of his soul there was a rich and abundant stream from the secret source of all beauty and energy. Now a hole had been torn in the dam, and the flood poured itself joyfully over the seed. Ever did the wish for the mysterious manuscript return to him. He saw before him the opening in the wall, and the first glimmer of light falling on the grey books in the hollow; he saw the treasure in his hands as he drew it out, and would not part with it till he had deciphered the illegible pages. Blessed spirit of Brother Tobias Bachhuber, if thou shouldst spend any of thy holiday-time in heaven in coming back to our poor earth, and if then at night thou glidest through the rooms of the old manor, guarding thy treasure and scaring inquisitive meddlers, pray, nod kindly to the man who now approaches to bring thy secret to the light of day, for truly he seeks not honor nor gain for himself, but he conjures you, in the name of all that is good, to assist a well-meaning man. _CHAPTER III_. A FOOL'S ERRAND.