Paul, little the worse for the struggle, released his hold of the soldier and rose to his feet. But it was beyond the power of the other to rise. Fear, inspired by the presence of the dark-frowning Zabern, kept him motionless and mute. He sat the picture of abject terror. Now that Paul was free to look around, he observed that he was within a vaulted stone chamber, about twenty feet square, and but scantily supplied with furniture. In one part there was a small iron chest fixed to the wall with staples. Paul, by some intuition, divined that Michael's nefarious attempt was directed against the contents of this chest. Zabern made one swift stride towards the coffer, and seemed relieved at finding it locked. Turning again, he folded his arms and faced the man with a terrible frown. "I shall not ask your object in coming here. You and I both know that. So you haven't got it?" Michael made no reply. "It is still safe?" Michael remained mute. He seemed literally frozen with terror. "Why so silent, fellow? Your tongue wagged ever loudest in the guard-house." "When I first entered," observed Paul, "smoke hung about the place." An enthusiastic orator in the Diet had once described Zabern as "the man who had never known fear." The statement, if true at the time of the utterance, was certainly not true now. Fear in all its power fell upon the heart of the marshal as his eye caught sight of a passage in the paper which he held: "Risk of discovery in transmitting document. Therefore burn as soon as seized." "Hell shall seize you, fellow, if you have done so!" he cried. "Did you come provided with a key, then? Where is it?" Still Michael made no reply. Zabern, following the direction of his eyes, perceived a key lying upon the floor. The marshal placed it within the lock of the chest, turned it, raised the lid, and saw that the coffer contained nothing but a heap of charred parchment. Zabern, his mouth drawn in an agony that showed all his white teeth, rose, and with a dreadful look in his eyes turned slowly round upon the guilty man. A cry for mercy rang through the chamber as the marshal sprang forward with drawn sabre. His was not a 'prentice hand; he knew exactly where to find the fifth rib. A swift stab,--the fall of a body, and then all was silent, save for the mournful plash of the rain outside. Paul was shocked by the ferocity of Zabern's action, which had been performed with a quickness that left no time for intervention. "Without a court-martial!" he said, severely. "We act not so in England."