"God preserve me from that man!" cried Tinkeles; "the very first day that he came to town he tried to open the cupboard in which my effects were. I had trouble to prevent him from stealing my clothes. I have nothing to do with such men."
"So much the better for you," replied Anton; "now hear me out. The baron has had a casket stolen, in which most important documents were kept. The robbery took place in Ehrenthal's office. Have you chanced to hear of it? or have you any suspicion as to who the thief may be?"
The Galician looked restlessly around the room, at Anton, at the money, and then, with closed eyes and a resolute tone, replied, "I have not."
"This, however, is just what I want to hear; and the money is for him who gives me information respecting it."
"If I must speak, then," said the Galician, "I must. I have heard that the man named Hippus, when drunk, has screamed, and has said, 'Now, then, we have the red cock; he is done for; owing to those papers, he is doomed.'"
"And you know nothing more?" asked Anton, in painful suspense.
"Nothing," said the Galician; "it was long ago, and I understood but little of what they said to each other."
"You have not earned the money," returned Anton, after a pause; "you have told me scarce any thing. However, that you may see the stress I lay upon obtaining information from you, take this hundred dollars; the second will be given when you can put me on the track of the thief or the lost papers. Perhaps that is not out of your power?"
"It is," said the Galician, positively, weighing the one roll in his hand, and contemplating the other. "What Itzig does, he does so as not to be overlooked; and I am a stranger in the place, and have no dealings with rogues."
"See what you can do, however," replied Anton. "As soon as you hear any thing, bring me word, and this money is yours. I need not caution you to avoid exciting Itzig's suspicions. Do not let it appear that you know me."