"It was there I lost my way," cried Martin of Dillberg.
"As to that, I know nothing," said the host; "but you came back that night, and slept at my house, and you were not near so chatty as the night before."
"Enough, enough," said Count Frederick; "we have traced him on the road to Eppenfeld; we shall soon find him at the castle gates, and hear what he did there."
Martin of Dillberg's two hands clasped together, straining tightly upon each other, but he said nothing; and his lord, whose eye was fixed upon him, at length, demanded, "Now, youth, will you confess your crime?"
"I have committed none," said the young man, sullenly.
"Bring in the man we took in the watch-tower," said Count Frederick; and looking to the host, he added, "you may go for the present."
A man was instantly brought in, of a fierce and sullen countenance, who gazed round him as if in some alarm; but Count Frederick soon calmed the sort of savage fear he seemed to feel, saying, "Do not be afraid, no harm is intended you. Now answer truly, did you ever see that youth before?"
"To be sure, I have," answered the man; "I opened the gates for him, some days ago, at Eppenfeld."
"But did not! come to ask the way?" exclaimed Martin of Dillberg. "I adjure you, tell the truth. It can do you no good to ruin me--did I not ask the way?"
"You asked the way to my lord's presence," answered the man gruffly; "that's all you asked; and I showed it to you, as I always did single travellers; for he knew best how to deal with them;" and the man ended with a laugh.