Gotthold stood helpless before a barrier that towered before him in impassable height, and which neither his anger nor his despair could remove. Of what crime could she be charged, except that young, generous, and confiding, she had allowed herself to be deceived by a villain, and then after long years of terrible, silent agony, had once more breathed freely at the sight of the friend of her youth, and fled to his arms for deliverance? And now she was the guilty one, and this scoundrel, asserting his rights, could mock, torture, kill her unpunished.
Thus anger and love drove him restlessly around in the terrible circle, from which no escape seemed possible unless some means could be found to fasten the crime, before the eyes of all the world, upon the person who was really guilty.
But how could such crimes be proved?
Gotthold started in horror when, while racking his brains over the possibility, he surprised himself in the act of producing this proof. Should he sully his own and Cecilia's honor by revealing the dark secrets, which, under cover of the night, extended from the master's room at Dollan to the little attic chamber of the maid-servant? Never!
And that the spendthrift and gambler would ever venture out of the dark mole-tracks of vice to the comparatively open road of crime was a thought that had also occurred to him; but there were too many probabilities against it. He did not give the scoundrel credit for the courage that always belongs to crime; besides, in that case, Wollnow would probably have expressed some suspicion; Wollnow, who, apparently out of sympathy for the Assessor, and perhaps also from the impulse of his own nature, which every dark problem irritated, had entered into the affair so eagerly, followed with so much care even the smallest clew that might lead to the discovery of the lost or stolen money. And, after all, was it not a psychological impossibility, that even a Brandow--if he had been directly or indirectly concerned in the robbery--could quietly clasp the hand of the man he had wronged, as he had done just now, when Gotthold met him engaged in a most animated conversation with the convalescent and his wife. True, the matter had been settled by the trustees of the convent of St. Jürgen, in a manner particularly favorable to Sellien. Under the direction of Alma's father, who presided at the meeting, they decided that the Assessor was not in the least to blame, since, as the agent of the convent, he was authorized, nay obliged, to receive the money, and certainly could not be held responsible for what happened to him on Dollan moor, during and after the fall. So the convent merely set down the ten thousand thalers as lost, "and," Sellien's father-in-law said, "if we were requested to withdraw the warrant for the apprehension of Hinrich Scheel, I, for one, should make no objection. The fellow has escaped long ago, and it is neither for our interest, gentlemen, nor that of my son-in-law, to have the stupid story constantly kept before the people."
Brandow laughed heartily when Sellien, in the most amusing manner, gave an account of the last meeting of the trustees, but was unfortunately obliged to take his leave immediately, as he wanted to go away directly after he had attended another consultation of the racing committee: the seventh within a fortnight! He could not get away from the city at all; but what was he to do? It was everything to him to get the resolution to include a piece of marshy ground in the race-course withdrawn. His Brownlock, which had compared very favorably with the other horses yesterday, was as good a steeple-chaser as could be found; but for the very reason that he had so much power in leaping, required firm ground. "It would be a sin and shame to treat him so; even young Prince Prora has declared it 'indigne.' But I'll pay no forfeit for non-performance of my contract. I'd rather be left sticking in the bog and if necessary drown."
"He is a hero!" Alma Sellien exclaimed, ere Brandow had closed the door behind him, opening her eyes very wide to express her enthusiasm.
"He is a fool," Gotthold muttered to himself, as he walked through the wet, silent streets towards his lodgings; "at least as much fool as knave, and certainly incapable of a deed which, in any sense, requires a man."
On reaching his room, Gotthold found a letter in the firm, even bold hand of Wollnow, now so familiar to him.
The epistle was a lengthy one. Gotthold expected to find news of the Stettin affair, about which a great deal of correspondence had passed between him and his friend during the last few weeks. He was mistaken. His eyes sparkled as, still standing, he glanced rapidly over the pages; then he threw himself into a chair, but instantly started up again, for his resolution was already formed. He hurried to the house where the racing committee met. Herr Brandow, after a violent altercation with one of the gentlemen on the committee, had left the house half an hour before. He went to the hotel where he knew Brandow usually lodged. This time Herr Brandow had not done the hotel the honor; perhaps he had taken a room at the "Golden Lion." The "Golden Lion" knew nothing of Herr Brandow; perhaps the gentleman might be at the "White Rose." Brandow had left the "White Rose" about fifteen minutes before, for home, the head waiter thought, at least he had ordered his luggage to be carried to the ferry-boat.