'Then I say it, Herr Baron!' pursued Henker Rothhals, wiping his frontispiece: 'The Devil has turned against you at last. Look up there— Ah, it's gone now; but where's the man sitting this side saw it not?'
The Baron made one spring, and stood on the board.
'Now! will any rascal here please to say so?'
Something in the cruel hang of his threatening hatchet jaw silenced many in the act of confirming the assertion.
'Stand out, Henker Rotthals !'
Rotthals slid a hunting-knife up his wrist, and stepped back from the board.
'Beast!' roared the Baron, 'I said I wouldn't shed blood to-night. I spared a traitor, and an enemy——'
'Look again!' said Rothhals; 'will any fellow say he saw nothing there.'
While all heads, including Werner's, were directed to the aperture which surveyed them, Rothhals tossed his knife to the Goshawk unperceived.
This time answers came to his challenge, but not in confirmation. The
Baron spoke with a gasping gentleness.