The old man leaned back in his chair, and by an imperious wave of the hand dismissed his son.
Werner left the apartment, followed by Sorr, whose fulsome gratitude the Freiherr cut short by another impatient wave of the hand. As soon as they had left the room, Werner, still accompanied by Sorr, hurried first to the library where he hoped to find Lucie, and then up-stairs, where the maid informed them that Fräulein Müller had not been seen since four o'clock, when she had gone for a walk with Fräulein Celia; old Franz had searched both garden and park for her in vain.
Werner burst into a rage at this information of the maid's. "Arno saw her!" he exclaimed, when he was once more alone with Sorr in the castle court-yard. "He knows where she is, and must tell us where to find her." He then returned to the garden-room alone, leaving Sorr to await him in the court-yard. The reception he met with was of the coldest; his father swore he would not hear a word from him, Arno refused to answer any questions, and Celia continued her performance of one of her father's favourite sonatas without deigning even to look at him. He dared not linger longer in the castle,--there was nothing for it but to return to the court-yard, where the vehicle in which he had arrived stood ready for departure.
"We must go, Herr von Sorr," said Werner; "time flies. My father, brother, and sister are evidently in league with your wife; they know where she is, but utterly refuse to tell,--it would take hours to find her, and every moment is priceless."
"We cannot leave without my wife; I do not dare to confront Repuin without her."
"Then stay here; I am going," Werner resolutely declared. "I will not imperil my freedom by a fruitless search, and besides we may chance to meet her on our way. Will you come?" He opened the carriage-door and sprang in. Sorr hesitated a moment, and then followed him; the coachman whipped up his horses, and they galloped off at a rattling pace.
Not more than a quarter of an hour had elapsed when there appeared, on the road to the castle along which they had so lately passed, a mounted gendarme, preceding, by another quarter of an hour, an open barouche, in which sat three gentlemen, two officers and a civilian. Colonel von Schlichting, with his adjutant, Lieutenant von Styrum, and the famous, or, as some would have it, the notorious police official, the Geheimrath Steuber, from Berlin; a second civilian, his assistant, sat on the box beside the coachman.
The gendarme, when in sight of the castle, awaited the barouche, behind which came a detachment of mounted dragoons, and reported that he had seen nothing suspicious, no carriage either going towards or coming from the castle.
"The birds are probably not yet flown," the Geheimrath said, rubbing his hands and chuckling. "The castle can be approached only in this direction. I was afraid upon learning at the station that immediately after our arrival a carriage and a horseman had left it at full speed that they might have got wind of our coming, but now I rather think we shall find the entire band of conspirators, including Count Repuin, together."
The Geheimrath was evidently elated at the prospect of a good haul. There was a smile upon his ugly face, which, to Count Styrum, made it look uglier still, and his view was shared by Count Schlichting. Both officers were fulfilling a disagreeable duty; they had received their orders from the highest authority, and were instructed if the arrest of the Freiherr von Hohenwald were really unavoidable, to proceed with the greatest caution and delicacy. Count Schlichting and Count Styrum, the latter of whom was but just re-admitted to military service, had personally been informed by their august commander how painful it was to him to issue orders for a search of Castle Hohenwald, which might result in the arrest of the Freiherr and his son Arno in addition to that of the Finanzrath and Count Repuin, which had already been ordered. Stern necessity alone had overcome considerations which would else have prevailed even with the highest authorities, and both search and arrests were confided to the charge of the famous Geheimrath, who was at the head of all investigations of the treasonable combinations still existing after war had been declared. Thus the police official was, in fact, the leader of this expedition to Hohenwald, although for form's sake he appeared as the colonel's assistant, and this galled the old soldier, for the Geheimrath's past was more than questionable; he owed his lofty position entirely to his cunning. Schlichting would gladly have replied harshly to the exultation of the man who, with his old, wrinkled face and large, prominent eyes glaring through round spectacle-glasses, looked like nothing so much as a malicious and evil-minded kobold, but considerations of duty kept him silent. Styrum, however, felt bound by no such considerations, and when the Geheimrath went so far as to stigmatize all the inmates of the castle as conspirators he indignantly repeated the obnoxious word, and added, in a deeply offended tone, "You would do well, Herr Geheimrath, to be better informed before you apply such an epithet to the old Freiherr von Hohenwald or to my comrade and friend, the Freiherr Arno. As to the latter, I can vouch for his patriotism and devotion to his country; he is incapable of treason, and there is nothing but unfounded rumour, so far as I can learn, that can cause you to regard the old Freiherr as a conspirator."