“Stenson!” said Christian. “What have you done with Stenson?”
“Who are you, monsieur, and what are you doing?” cried the minister, in a severe tone. “Is this a time, at this solemn moment, and in the presence of a man whose soul is even now appearing before the supreme tribunal, to commit deeds of violence?”
While the minister was speaking, Jacob was trying to disengage Johan from Christian’s grasp; but the young man’s fearful excitement had increased his strength tenfold, and it would have required more than the combined strength of the three persons present to force him to release his prize.
At the sound of the tumult Stangstadius rushed in, leaving the passage free to the heirs, resolved to be satisfied as to the baron’s real condition, and to the servants, who had been on the watch, and who hurried in, to hear the dying man’s last groan.
“Who are you, monsieur?” repeated the minister, by whom Christian had allowed himself voluntarily to be disarmed, but without releasing his prey.
“I am Christian Goefle,” he replied, as well from compassion for the poor heirs, as because he felt the necessity of being prudent in their company; “I come on the part of M. Goefle, my relative and my friend, to demand old Adam Stenson, whom this wretch has perhaps assassinated.”
“Assassinated?” cried the minister, shrinking back in terror.
“Oh, he is quite capable of it!” cried the heirs, who were crowding in, and who hated Johan.
Without paying any further attention to the incident, they crowded around the dear deceased, stifling the poor physician with their numbers, assailing him with eager questions, and feasting their eyes upon the spectacle of the baron’s hideously disfigured face, which still terrified them, in spite of their joy.
However, they moved aside with some deference to admit the impassible Stangstadius, who came with a glass to make the final test, while declaring right and left that the doctor was an ass, who could not tell whether a man was dead or not. If Christian had not been so busy with his own affairs, he would have heard several voices exclaim, “Is there no hope?” in a tone that signified clearly enough, “Heaven grant that he is really dead!” But Christian had no thought to bestow upon his inheritance; he wanted to see Stenson, and he demanded that Johan should produce him immediately, or should conduct him himself into the old man’s presence.