CHAPTER VIII.
SEBALT TRACKS THE PLAGUE.
Sperver's face wore a look of supreme indignation; Sebalt's one of bitter irony. The master of the hounds, whose melancholy appearance had struck me during my first days at Nideck, was as thin as a rail; he wore a leather jacket fastened at the waist by a belt, from which hung a hunting-knife with a bone handle; long leather gaiters reached above his knees, and his horn hung at his elbow from a shoulder belt that went from right to left across his chest. On his head was a broad-brimmed hat with a heron's plume in the band, and his profile, terminating in a yellowish beard, suggested that of a goat.
"Yes," continued Sperver; "I have some news for you!"
He threw himself into a chair, burying his face in his hands, while Sebalt quietly drew his trumpet over his head and laid it on the table.
"Come, Sebalt," cried Gideon, "speak out!"
"The witch is roaming about the Castle."
This information would have failed to interest me had it not been for the interview with Marie Lagoutte; but now it made a deep impression upon me. There was some mysterious connection between the Lord of Nideck and this horrid creature, the nature of which was an enigma to me. I felt that I must solve it at all costs.
"One moment, gentlemen! one moment!" I said to Sperver and his comrade; "first of all, I want to know where this Black Plague comes from."
Sperver stared at me in astonishment.