Wilfred and I thought our last hour had surely come. But he did not appear to see us in the oblique shadow of the loft, notwithstanding that the fire started up again in the cold draft from the open window. He squatted down on a chair and began to shiver in a strange manner. Suddenly he fixed his yellowish-green eyes upon me; his nostrils dilated and he watched me for a full minute, while the blood froze in my veins. Then turning toward the stove, he gave a hoarse cough, like the purring of a cat, without moving a muscle of his face. He drew a large watch from his breeches pocket, made a gesture as if looking at the time, and either inadvertently or purposely laid it on the table. This done, he rose as if undecided, looked doubtfully at the window, hesitated, and finally disappeared through the door, leaving it wide open behind him. I sprang up to turn the lock; already the man’s footsteps creaked on the staircase two floors below. An irresistible curiosity asserted itself over my fear, and hearing a window open, which looked upon the court, I approached the sash of the little winding staircase on the same side of the house. The courtyard, from where I stood, lay at a dizzy depth, and a wall from fifty to sixty feet high divided it. On the right of the wall was the yard of a pork butcher; on the left, the inn yard of the Pied de Mouton. The top of this wall, which was overgrown with damp mosses and that sort of vegetation that thrives in dark places, extended in a straight line from the window, which the man had just opened, to the roof of a large, sombre-looking dwelling, built in the rear of the Bergstrasse.
I took all this in at a glance while the moon shone between the heavy, snow-laden clouds, and I shuddered as I saw the man flee along the wall, his head bent forward and the knife still in his hand, while the wind howled lugubriously around him. He reached the opposite roof and disappeared. I thought I must be dreaming. For some moments I stood there, open-mouthed with wonder, my breast bare, and hair tossed about, drenched by the sleet that fell from the roof. At length recovering from my bewilderment, I returned to the loft and found Wilfred, who looked at me with a haggard expression and was mumbling a prayer. I hastened to bolt the door, dress myself, and replenish the fire.
“Well,” said my comrade, sitting up. “Well,” I rejoined, “we have escaped this time, but if that fellow didn’t see us, it was only because our time has not yet come.” “You are right!” he cried. “He is one of the murderers Annette spoke of. Great Heavens! What a face! And what a knife!” And he fell back on the straw.
I emptied at a draft what wine still remained in the jug, and then, as the fire started up again, diffusing a grateful warmth through the chamber, and the lock appeared sufficiently strong, my courage began to revive. But the watch was still there and the man might return for it. The thought filled us with horror.
“Well, what is our next move?” asked Wilfred. “The best thing we can do is to strike out at once for the Black Forest.” “Why so?” “I have no further desire to figure on the double-bass; you may do as you like.” “Why should we leave? We have committed no crime.” “Speak low!” he replied, “that one word ‘crime’ might hang us. We poor devils are made to serve as examples for others. They don’t bother their heads much to find out whether we are guilty or not. If they should discover that watch here, it would be enough.” “Look here, Wilfred! It won’t do to lose your head! A crime has undoubtedly been committed in this neighborhood, but what should honest men do under the circumstances? Instead of running away from Justice, they should try to aid it.” “How aid it?” “The simplest way would be to take this watch to the bailiff and tell him what has passed.” “Never! I wouldn’t even dare to touch it!” “Very well, I will take it myself, but now let’s go back to bed and try to get some more sleep if we can.” “I don’t care to sleep.” “Well, light your pipe, then, and we will talk while we wait for daylight. Let’s go downstairs, there may be some one there still.” “I would rather stay here.” “All right.” And we sat down again before the fire.
As soon as dawn appeared, I took the watch from the table. It was a fine one with minute and second hands. Wilfred seemed somewhat reassured. “Kasper,” he said, “on second thoughts, it seems more suitable for me to go to the bailiff. You are too young to take part in such matters. You would make a mess of it when you tried to explain the affair.” “Just as you like,” I replied. “Yes, it would look odd for a man of my years to send a mere child in my place.” “Very good; I understand.”
He took the watch, but I believe that only his pride drove him to this resolution. He would have been ashamed to show less courage than I before his comrades. We went down from the loft in a thoughtful mood. As we crossed the alleyway that comes out on the Rue Saint Christopher, we heard the clicking of glasses. I recognized the voice of old Bremer and his sons, Ludwig and Karl. “By Jove,” said I, “it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a glass before we start.” I pushed open the door of the tap-room as I spoke, and we found all our company gathered there, their instruments variously deposited about the room. We were received with shouts of satisfaction and places were quickly made for us at the table. “Ho! Good morning, comrades,” said Bremer; “more snow and wind. All the taverns are full of people, and every bottle that is opened means a florin in our pockets.” I saw little Annette looking as fresh and fair as a rose, and smiling fondly at me with her lips and eyes. This sight reanimated me. It was I who got the daintiest morsels, and whenever she approached to set a glass of wine at my elbow, she touched me caressingly on the shoulder, and I thought, with a beating heart, of the days when we used to go chestnutting together. But in spite of this, the pale face of our strange visitor of the night before recurred to me from time to time, and made me tremble. I looked at Wilfred; he, too, seemed thoughtful.
Eight o’clock came and our party was about to start out, when the door was thrown open, and three big fellows, with lead-colored complexions, their eyes shining like rats, and their hats awry, appeared on the threshold, followed by several others of a like description. One of them, with a razor-back nose, and with a heavy club bound to his wrist, stepped forward, crying: “Your passports, gentlemen!” Each one hastened to comply with the request. Unfortunately, Wilfred, who stood near the stove, was seized with a sudden trembling. The officer’s experienced eye detected his agitation, and as he paused in his reading to give him a questioning look, my comrade conceived the unlucky idea of slipping the watch into his boot; but before it had reached its destination, the official slapped his hand against the other’s hip, and said jeeringly: “Something seems to trouble you here.” To everybody’s amazement, Wilfred was seized with a fainting spell and dropped upon a bench pale as death. Without further ceremony, Madoc, the Chief of Police, pulled up his trousers’ leg and drew out the watch with a burst of evil laughter. He had no sooner glanced at it, however, than he became sober, and, turning to his men, he cried in a terrible voice: “Let no one leave the room! We have caught the whole band at last! Look! this is the watch of Dean Daniel Van den Berg. Bring hither the handcuffs!” This order chilled us to the marrow. A tumult followed, and I, believing that we were lost, slid under a bench near the wall. As I was watching them chain the hands of poor old Bremer and his sons, Karl and Ludwig, together with Heinrich and Wilfred, I felt Annette’s little hand brush against my cheek and she drew me gently toward her—slowly and quietly toward the open cellar door. I was unnoticed in the general confusion; I slipped within; the door closed behind me. It was but the matter of a second. Scarcely had I concealed myself, before I heard my poor comrades depart; then all became silent.
I will leave you to imagine the nature of my reflections during an entire day, crouched down behind a wine cask with my legs gathered under me, and realizing that if a dog should enter the cellar, if the landlady should take the notion to come downstairs to fill a pitcher, if the cask should run out before night and were to be replaced; in short, if the slightest thing went amiss, it would be all up with me. All these thoughts and a thousand others passed through my mind, and I fancied that I already saw my comrades being led to execution. Little Annette, no less anxious than myself, closed the door prudently each time that she came up from the cellar. At last, I heard the old woman cry: “Leave the door open! Are you mad to lose half your time in shutting it?” After that the door remained ajar, and from my nook in the shadows I could see the tables gradually filling with new customers.
Stories, discussions, and exclamations concerning the famous band of robbers reached my ears. “Oh! the rascals!” cried one; “thank Heaven they are caught. What a scourge they have been to Heidelberg! No one dared risk himself in the streets after ten o’clock, and even business was beginning to suffer; but now things are changed and in a fortnight it will all be forgotten.”