Next morning he missed his fine gold chain, which was an heirloom, and, greatly distressed, he haughtily demanded of the Innkeeper that his servants should be searched.
‘They have robbed me,’ he cried, ‘and they shall suffer for it! Cannot one sleep at your house without meeting with knaves and thieves?’
At this the Innkeeper was very angry. Instead of condoling with the nobleman on his loss, and offering to make it good, he roundly rebuked him for taking away the character of honest men without due proof. The noble was leaving the Inn in much haste when a soft voice asked him why he was troubled.
‘If it be on account of the bauble upon which you set such store,’ it continued, ‘look under your pillow and you will find it. You cannot get on without Hinzelmann after all!’
‘I would I had never known you, base spirit!’ stormed the nobleman. ‘You have put me greatly in the wrong with all these men, and my journey has been for nought, since you are here. If you do not quit me I will leave this country; it is not wide enough to hold us both.’
Then Hinzelmann spoke to him with much reason, pointing out that he wished him no harm, and that it was impossible to shake him off, since wherever the lord went, he could follow.
‘It was I who flew as a little white feather in front of your coach,’ he concluded. ‘You played the part of a poltroon when you fled from what you believed to be evil, instead of fighting it on your own ground. Come back with me, and if you give me your friendship, I will work but good to you and yours.’
So the nobleman went back to his castle, and Hinzelmann lived there with him. A little room was set aside for his use in an upper story, and here they placed, by the nobleman’s orders, a small round table, and a tiny bed. No one could ever make out if he slept on this, but once when the cook entered very quickly, to take him the dish of new milk and wheaten crumbs which was placed each morn on his table, she saw a shallow depression on the down pillow, as if something very small and soft had rested there.