“Restrain yourself and don’t shout in that way,” said Veit, laying the dice aside. “It is a long time yet before the clock will strike ten and the gates open to the Rupperschwyls.”
“They ought to be all around the city before this time,” said Conrad.
“All my ten fingers are itching for our work,” said Jörgel, “but it is too bad we cannot get at the rich goods of the merchants.”
“We ought to have had wagons to carry the plunder to our castles,” said Conrad.
“Worse than that, we are expected to divide with the landlord,” said Veit, “and the thought does not please me. Therefore I think it would be better for us to take the money to the nearest bankers. And mark what I tell you: if any one interferes with us we can then swear we have clean hands. The Rupperschwyls and patricians can look after the slaughter, for they will kill Burgomaster Brun and the entire new Council.”
“Did you hear that?” said Conrad, laughing. “Just think, Jörgel, of Veit’s tender conscience. It is as easy as if he had never—”
Conrad suddenly ceased talking. A deep sigh was heard which did not come from any of the three. They sprang from their seats and looked about them. Jörgel had the most acute hearing of them all. He traced the unaccountable sound to the vicinity of the door and soon found a figure seated in a chair in a dark corner which the candles failed to light. Uttering a terrible curse he dragged the witness of their conspiracy into the light.
“Boy, you must die,” he cried furiously, at the same time holding his victim by the throat so tightly that he could only emit a feeble groan.
“First let him tell how he came here, and let him say his prayers before he dies,” said Veit.
“No,” said Conrad, “no mercy to a spy.” In his wrath he drew his dagger, but he weakened some when he saw a dagger flashing in the uplifted hand of the boy.