"It is my duty, Herr Professor; in such cases I may not discriminate," apologized Brandt, "and it is but a matter of form."
"So be it, search!" and the offended professor turned again to the dead man, ignoring the industrious Brietmann, who emptied bags, unlocked boxes, peered into jars of chemicals, and generally upset the scientist's most sacred possessions.
At length, in a dark corner of the tent, Brietmann came to a black box secured with a big padlock.
"Herr Professor," he called; "this box. It is locked."
The professor simply grunted.
"The key, Herr Professor," he persisted.
"I advise you to leave that box alone," growled the owner.
"It must be opened, nicht warum, wachtmeister?" asked Brietmann of the sergeant.
"Ja wohl," said the wachtmeister.
"Again I advise you not," said the old man. "Surely there is no need; I do not wish it opened."