The door which led from his father’s bedroom into the hall stood wide open. Pale with anxiety, he stepped towards the bed—it had not been used, only on the foot of it there was an impression on the feather quilt So his father had been sitting there without stirring for more than an hour and a half—evidently waiting till he himself was asleep.
What in the name of Heaven did all this mean?
His look wandered searchingly round the room. The worsted slippers in which his father generally crept about the house were thrown in the corner, but the boots, which for months had been standing there unused, were gone.
What? Did his lame father want to go for a ramble in the middle of the night? His heart almost stopped beating He rushed out into the yard.
It was as clear as daylight, only as far as the shadow of the barn extended night still reigned.
The storm howled among the trees, the glistening white sand was whirled in the air, otherwise all was silent and deserted.
He hastened through the garden—no trace of him—to the back of the stables—still no trace of him. Ah, what did this mean? The gate open? Where had he gone? The dog near him whined, he hastily unfastened his chain. “Seek for your master, Turk. Seek.”
The dog sniffed about on the ground and ran to the front of the barn, where the bundles of straw were lying piled up like pale mountains of sand along the wall.
The moonlight was dazzling on the whitewashed wall, and lay bright and glittering on the ground One might have found a pin by its light. There was nothing to be noticed, except in one place the straw seemed disarranged.
But stop! how does the ladder come here, which is leaning against the wall? The ladder which but two hours ago was lying flat along the inside of the fence?