CHAPTER XXVI.
[A CONSPIRACY].
What a story was this! To Egon, Storting's narrative seemed like some wild romance. Herr von Osternau and Fritzchen, the bright, intelligent little fellow, dead, Frau von Osternau the victim of a scoundrel's crime, and Lieschen forced to work hard to stave off destitution! He could hardly trust his ears, and it needed the sight of Storting's sad, earnest face, as he spoke, to confirm his words.
Egon's mind was filled with the eager desire to aid those to whom during the past few years his heart had so often turned,--those who, as he was now painfully aware, had formed part of every vision of his future life. He had resisted all impulse to revisit Castle Osternau; only when his new existence was fairly and honestly begun at Plagnitz could he hope to find there the pardon for which he thirsted for the deceit practised upon its inmates. And now this could never be, and the thought that he was possessed of superfluous wealth, while those dear to him were working for their daily bread, was positively intolerable. He sprang up, but the instant and intense pain in his head reminded him that the physician had forbidden all exertion for some days, and that he could not hasten as he longed to Lieschen's side, to shield her from all further distress. He sank back wearily in his arm-chair.
"Confound that miserable accident!" he said, angrily. "It keeps me a prisoner here when every moment is precious. Frau von Osternau must not live a day longer in such unsuitable circumstances. Storting, you must do me a favour to-morrow,--no, to-day. By the night-train you must go to Berlin. I cannot go myself, as you see, and perhaps it is better that you, Frau von Osternau's old friend, should act for me. I will give you an order on our bank. You must draw any sum necessary to provide handsomely for Frau von Osternau, and to prevent Fräulein Lieschen from taking the place of a hired servant. I will not allow it; it shall not be. Make haste, Storting! I will write to our cashier and get the order ready for you while you are preparing to set off. You must be in Berlin to-morrow."
Storting smiled, but shook his head.
"Your kind and generous intention does you honour, Herr von Ernau," he said, cordially, "but I fear it will be of no avail. My journey to Berlin, where, according to her last letter, I should no longer find Frau von Osternau, would be of no use even were the lady still there. She would thank you for your generosity, but would refuse to accept your money, as she has already refused the offers of help made her by Herr von Sastrow and others of her relatives. 'As long as I can work, we are not objects of charity,' I myself heard Fräulein Lieschen say, while her head was held as haughtily and her eyes sparkled as brightly as in the dear old times. She will work to the last, but she never will suffer her mother to receive aid from outsiders."
What had Egon been thinking of to propose to offer money to Frau von Osternau? Storting's words convinced him that Lieschen would indeed refuse such a gift. It was well that his wound had prevented his immediate departure for Berlin. How mortified he should have been to have his thoughtless gift rejected with fitting pride! And yet he could not endure the thought of Lieschen--in his heart he almost said his Lieschen--forced to labour for her daily bread, to resign her freedom and place herself at the beck and call of strangers. Oh, it was intolerable! What could he do? A happy idea suddenly suggested itself.
"Did you not once tell me, Storting," he asked, "that old Herr von Osternau had lost large sums of money through his careless generosity? was there not some story of a manufacturer in Breslau whose factory burned down, and to whom Herr von Osternau loaned a very considerable amount of money without sufficient security, and lost it all by the man's absconding?"
"Yes, that did really happen. The swindler was a paper-manufacturer by the name of Simon; he ran off to America ten years ago, and Herr von Osternau lost every penny of the twenty thousand thalers he loaned him."
"Now, perhaps the poor fellow was no swindler at all. Probably only extreme need drove him to America, and so soon as he is aware of the circumstances in which Frau von Osternau and her daughter are placed he feels it his duty to restore, both principal and interest, the loan so generously made him. As he does not know Frau von Osternau's present place of abode, he naturally makes application to Herr Storting, whom he knew formerly as the admirable Osternau inspector, and to him he sends the owing money, commissioning him to hand it over to the heirs of the late Herr von Osternau. Of course Herr Simon will require from these heirs a receipt for the sum handed them, and a quittance of all further claims. You must not be surprised, Storting, to receive a communication from Herr Simon this very evening, with an order upon the firm of A. C. Ernau & Co., in Berlin, for the sum in question; and of course I shall give you leave of absence for some time that you may arrange the matter satisfactorily. I am sure you will not refuse to undertake the affair, Storting."
"What can I say, Herr von Ernau," cried the delighted Storting, "except that I am honoured in being the instrument of such generosity?"
"After all, there is really not much honour, my dear fellow, in being made accomplice in a forgery. But we must contrive to answer all that to our consciences. Go now and get ready to start. In an hour you shall receive Herr Simon's letter. You will be obliged to suppress the envelope, which may not bear the correct stamp."
"No need even of that, for I received a letter from New Orleans yesterday, and its envelope will serve your purpose admirably. It followed me to Plagnitz from my former place of abode, and will explain my desire to leave here as soon as possible: of course I am in a hurry to hand over her property to Frau von Osternau."
"Bravo! and now to business."
Two hours later Storting was on his way to the nearest railway-station, with a letter from Carl Johann Simon, New Orleans, Louisiana, U. S. A., and an order upon the banking-house of A. C. Ernau & Co., Berlin, in his pocket.