Old Conrad was not slow in answering.
"The gentlemen called day before yesterday, mein herr, and took much away. They will return to-morrow for the remainder."
"Gentlemen?" I gasped. "Remainder?"
"The gentlemen to whom the Herr Count sold the rugs and chairs and chests and—"
"What!" I roared. Even Poopendyke jumped at this sudden exhibition of wrath. "Do you mean to tell me that these things have been sold and carried away without my knowledge or consent? I'll have the law—"
Herr Poopendyke intervened. "They had bills of sale and orders for removal of property dated several weeks prior to your purchase, Mr. Smart. We had to let the articles go. You surely remember my speaking to you about it."
"I don't remember anything," I snapped, which was the truth. "Why—why, I bought everything that the castle contained. This is robbery! What the dickens do you mean by—"
Old Conrad held up his hands as if expecting to pacify me. I sputtered out the rest of the sentence, which really amounted to nothing.
"The Count has been selling off the lovely old pieces for the past six months, sir. Ach, what a sin! They have come here day after day, these furniture buyers, to take away the most priceless of our treasures, to sell them to the poor rich at twenty prices. I could weep over the sacrifices. I have wept, haven't I, Gretel? Eh, Rudolph? Buckets of tears have I shed, mein herr. Oceans of them. Time after time have I implored him to deny these rascally curio hunters, these blood-sucking—"
"But listen to me," I broke in. "Do you mean to say that articles have been taken away from the castle since I came into possession?"