The attorney's face grew black, his eyes started from his head; but his despair gave him strength. When he saw the robber's knife descending, he caught it in his hands.
There was a noise in the house. Steps were heard. The attorney's cries had roused the servants.
Viola made a violent movement. Again, and again, and again was the broad steel buried in the breast of his victim. Then, seizing the papers with his bloody hands, he rushed from the room and reached the yard, where he was met by the coachman and another servant. They pursued him.
He crossed the meadow, and disappeared in the thicket which covers the banks of the Theiss.
When the domestics entered the attorney's room they found him dying. There were no traces of a robbery. The wretched man's watch and purse lay on the bed.
"Robbers! Murderers!" cried the cook, who was the first to enter. "Follow him!"
"Send for the doctor!"
"No, send for the curate!"
All was noise and confusion. Two of the men raised the attorney and laid him on the bed.
"Follow him!" gasped Mr. Catspaw, "Follow! My papers!"