In a spider's-web stretched between two twigs a fly was struggling—whew! how convulsively it struggled! perhaps it moaned also, but we couldn't hear it. Yes, high and noble fly, you have a fate no different from that of the human fly. Everywhere spiders—yes, spiders! And you are better off, you will be speedily eaten.
Sonnenkamp struck his forehead with his clenched fist: he was angry with his brain, that led him into such subtile speculations.
He turned away and went back to his room. The best thing you can do, he said to himself, is to make a speedy exit; then are your children free, and you are free too. He took a revolver from the wall just as some one knocked at the door.
"What's the matter? what do you want?" A groom gave his name, and Sonnenkamp opened the door. The groom informed him that his black horse rattled in the throat and foamed at the mouth; that he was sick, and they could not tell what ailed him.
"Indeed?" cried Sonnenkamp. "Have you not walked the horse out for exercise? Has any one ridden him?"
"Yes; the Herr Captain ordered the horse to be saddled the night before, and was a long time gone with him."
"So! Come, I'll cure him speedily." He went down to the stable, looked grimly at the horse, and then shot him through the head. The horse gave one hoarse rattle, and fell headlong.
"So! it's all over now!" cried Sonnenkamp. "Now you are free!"
As he was leaving the stable, Pranken came up.
"What have you done?"