Raschke started up from his chair. Struvelius, whose emotion was only visible in his bristly hair, began: "We were called yesterday to the police-station. When the brother of Magister Knips fled to America, his things were taken possession of on the application of petty creditors, and as the greater portion of his effects were at his mother's house, they were taken away from there. Amongst them were utensils and portfolios which evidently did not belong to the fugitive, but to his brother; one of those portfolios contained tracings after the style of manuscripts, unfinished attempts to imitate old writings, and written parchment sheets. The officials had been surprised at these, and requested me to inspect them. It appeared upon closer observation that the Magister had long been occupied in acquiring the skill of imitating the characters of the Middle Ages. And from the fragments I have found in the portfolio, there can be no doubt that he has other forgeries in his collection, some of which answer exactly to that parchment strip."
"That is enough, Struvelius," began his wife. "Now let me speak. You may imagine, dear colleague, that Werner at once occurred to us, and that we were greatly alarmed lest the husband of our friend should get into trouble through the deceiver. I asked Struvelius to write Professor Werner, but he preferred to inform him through you. This method also appeared most satisfactory to me."
Raschke, without saying a word, took off his dressing-gown, and ran in his shirt-sleeves about the room, searching in all the corners. At last he found his hat, which he put on.
"What are you about, Raschke!" exclaimed his wife.
"Why do you ask?" he said, hastily; "there is no time for delay. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Struvelius," he said observing his sleeves, and again put on his dressing-gown, but in his excitement he still kept on his hat, and thus attired, seated himself opposite his friends. Bertha, at a sign from her mother, gently took his hat off.
"A quick decision is necessary in this case," he repeated.
"There is no reason," continued Struvelius, "for withholding the property of the Magister from his mother; but, meanwhile, they would willingly allow you an inspection of the writings."
"That I do not wish," exclaimed Raschke; "it would spoil the day for me. Your judgment, Struvelius, satisfies me."
There was some further excited interchange of views, and the visitors left. Again Raschke rushed stormily about, so that the skirts of his dressing-gown flew over the chairs.
"Dear Aurelia, do not be frightened; I have made up my mind. I shall set out to-morrow."