Now, this was a terrible question for Fritz; Providence was clearly not interfering on his behalf; his luck was deserting him; the Amtshauptmann stood before him, in one hand the sausage, in the other the stick, and the stick was hardly two feet from his back; he was therefore wholly thrown upon the little bundle of papers for help, and that too was only so-so, for the Amtshauptmann might discover it by the noise. So he gave himself up for lost, began to cry and said--"It was given me."
"That's a story," broke in the Frau Amtshauptmann, "you have stolen it with the long pole."
"Be quiet, Neiting! No leading questions. Fritz, who gave you this sausage?"
"Mamsell Westphalen."
"When, Fritz."
"When I was sitting in the tree."
"Was she sitting by your side?"
"No, she was sitting in the smoking-garret, and then she fixed the sausage on the pole; I had stuck a nail into the end of it."
"But you said just now, you did not know where Mamsell Westphalen was. Fritz Sahlmann, you have told me a lie."
"Don't beat me, don't beat me, Herr Amtshauptmann. I couldn't help it, I couldn't really. The Rathsherr Herse made me take a solemn oath not to tell anybody, not even you, where Mamsell Westphalen was."