Itzig sat still, but his eyes glanced restlessly to and fro. No stranger would have observed that symptom of a bad conscience, but Anton remembered it in the boy Veitel, when accused at school of some petty theft. Itzig, he saw, knew all about the papers and the robbery.
At length, the agent replied in a tone of indifference, "I have heard of this; it occurred a short time before I left Ehrenthal's."
"Very well," continued Anton; "these papers could have no value for the thief himself. But there is reason to believe that they have found their way into the hands of a third person."
"That is not impossible, but I should hardly think it likely any one would keep up worthless papers so long."
"I know that these papers are extant—nay, I know that they are being used to the baron's prejudice."
Itzig writhed upon his seat. "Why do you speak to me upon these subjects?" said he, hoarsely.
"You will soon discover my drift," said Anton. "I know, as I before said, that the papers are still extant, and I have reason to believe that you may discover their possessor. You can gain any information you may still want respecting them from Hippus."
"Why from him?"
"He has, in the presence of witnesses, made use of expressions that plainly prove him to be acquainted with their purport."
Itzig ground his teeth, and muttered something very like the words "Drunken rascal."