This time no second command was necessary: Michael obeyed without hesitation. He stood before the Count, who, looking him directly in the eye, held out to him the empty case. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, with apparent composure.
The young man shook his head; he did not comprehend the strange question.
"It was lying here on the writing-table," Steinrück continued, "but it was not empty as it is now. It contained a star of sparkling stones. Did you not see it?"
Michael reflected. That, then, must have been the glittering object that sparkled so in the sunlight, but of which he had taken little heed.
"Well, I am waiting for an answer," said the Count, still keeping his eye fixed on Michael's. "Where is the star?"
"How should I know?" asked Michael, more and more surprised at this strange examination.
The Count's lips quivered. "You do not know, then? You are hardly so stupid as you pretend to be. You act a farce extremely well. Where is the star? I must know, and that instantly."
The threatening tone of the last words revealed the truth to the lad, and he stood as if paralyzed, so horrified, so dismayed, that for the moment he was utterly incapable of exculpating himself. His aspect deprived Steinrück of all shadow of doubt. He saw in it the consciousness of guilt.
"Confess, fellow!" he said in an undertone, but with terrible emphasis. "Give up what you have stolen, and thank God that I let you go scot-free. Do you hear? Give up your booty!"
Michael shrank as if he had received a stab, but in an instant he burst forth, "I a thief? I take----"