“Hold there!” exclaimed Veit. “This is Master Hildprand’s apprentice. Let him loose, Jörgel, let him loose, or I will release the poor fellow.” As Veit’s hand was already upon his weapon, and he was in no mood to be refused, Jörgel obeyed.
“Now, confess,” said Veit to the boy in a severe tone. “Your master sent you here with my dagger, but surely not to play the spy. Speak, youngster!”
Florian Häbli threw himself at the knight’s feet and protested his innocence. He said he was brought to the room by the landlord, and when he entered the gentlemen were so excited over the dice that they did not notice him. Then their furious dispute frightened him. He dared not advance, and was so terrified that he took the seat in the corner. He was speedily overcome by sleep, for he had been up all the previous night and was deadly sleepy. When or how he awoke he could not say.
“What have you heard of our talk?” said Veit, harshly.
Florian did not instantly reply, but at last said: “Nothing, not the slightest thing.”
“He is a lying knave,” said Jörgel. “Do you not see how he reddens at every word?”
“Let’s make an end of him,” said Conrad, seizing him by the throat.
“Take your hand away,” said Veit. “This lad is Master Hildprand’s apprentice and his favorite sister’s son, of whom he is very fond. We must do nothing that will hurt the master, for we all need him. He knows where he sent the boy, and if he does not return he will know where to look for him. Supposing we kill the lad, how can we conceal his body without taking the landlord into our confidence and placing ourselves completely in his power?”
“Supposing, then, we shut him up until everything is over,” said Jörgel.
“Then he will raise an alarm,” replied the knight.