SENDEN.
It was going splendidly. We had 47, the opponents 42 votes. Eight votes were still to be cast. Two more for us and the day would have been ours. The legally appointed moment for closing the ballot-box had come. All looked at the clock and called for the dilatory voters. Then there was a trampling of feet in the corridor. A group of eight persons pushed noisily into the hall, at their head the vulgar wine-merchant Piepenbrink, the same one who at the fête the other day—
ADELAIDE.
We know; go on—
SENDEN.
Each of the band in turn came forward, gave his vote and "Edward Oldendorf" issued from the lips of all. Then finally came this Piepenbrink. Before voting he asked the man next to him: "Is the professor sure of it?" "Yes," was the reply. "Then I, as last voter, choose as member of Parliament"—[Stops.]
ADELAIDE.
The professor?
SENDEN.
No. "A most clever and cunning politician," so he put it, "Dr. Conrad
Bolz." Then he turned short around and his henchmen followed him.