The miser gazed at him as if he had suddenly found himself in the presence of a furious madman, and he exclaimed vehemently, in the first excitement of passion, "Why I believe that you are Satan himself! Is it not enough to drive me mad, to have lost seven thousand pounds in one night, without having a stranger insulting me in my own drawing-room, talking of Asteroth, and Mammon, and Apollyon, and all the follies that ever were concocted in the brain of that half-drunken idiot, John Bunyan?--Was it you that robbed me?--How should I know that it was not?--I never saw you before--you may have had a hand in it for aught I know!"
"It is very probable," answered Lieberg, "especially as there has been another robbery committed in your house that you are not aware of, and that to a large amount."
Mr. Carr instantly ran to a little old oak cabinet, and shook the door to see if it had been opened. All was safe, however, and he exclaimed, "Where?--how?--in what room?"
"In my room"--answered Lieberg; "that is to say, in the room where I slept last night; and where, if I robbed you as you say, I committed the folly of robbing myself also, to the amount of some six or seven hundred pounds--It seems to me, Mr. Carr," he continued, in a quicker but less ironical tone, "that this loss of yours has made you mad, and that instead of thinking of recovering your property by pursuing these men at once, with all the activity in your nature, you are, instead, raving like an insane person. Why don't you saddle every horse in your stable, and track the wheels of the cart in which they carried off your goods and mine? I have already sent for a magistrate, and no time ought to be lost in taking other measures."
"True--very true, Count!" said Mr. Carr, who, now that the first burst of passion had passed, was coming to his senses again, and recollected that it would not do to offend a guest, who was likely to hire his manors--"I will send out some men directly. I beg your pardon, sir, for being so violent, but this is a great loss.--We must despatch people to the village, too, and after we have taken all sorts of measures, we can just go over the manors together. But, dear me, what shall I do about going to town with Miss Barham!--Hark!--what is that? There is somebody calling me--they do not know where to find us. Perhaps they have found some of the plate. It was very heavy, and the men may have thrown it away. Here I am--here I am!" he continued, putting his head out of the drawing-room door, "What do you want with me? Have you found anything?"
"No, sir, no!" exclaimed the cook, running up with eager eyes. "We have not found anything, but what is worse than finding anything in this world, we can't find the young lady--we can't find Miss Barham!"
"God of Heaven!" exclaimed Lieberg, starting forward. "Can't find her? Are there any signs of violence?"
"Oh, dear! Lord bless you, sir! they have murdered her!" exclaimed the cook, with her eyes as big as saucers, while the housemaid gaped behind, and Helen's maid appeared with the tears on her cheeks. "They have murdered her, and taken away the body to bury it, like a dead dog, in some field. I'll wager any money she saw them and screamed, and they cut her throat. They would have cut mine, too, if I had screamed, but I knew better."
"I declare I heard her scream in the night!" cried the housemaid; "but I thought it was only a screech owl."
"Get along, you fool," said the cook, in reply, "you heard nothing at all, not even yourself snoring."