Given under my hand and seal at Copenhagen, this eleventh day of January, 1699.
Cumbysulsum.
The private secretary shook like a leaf. He tried to speak, but could not. The bishop handed the parchment to the pale and agitated president.
“What do I see?” exclaimed the latter, as he unfolded the parchment. “A note to the noble Count d’Ahlefeld, upon the means of legally ridding himself of Schumacker! I—I swear, reverend Bishop—”
The paper dropped from his trembling fingers.
“Read it, read it, sir,” said the bishop. “I doubt not that your unworthy servant has abused your name as he has that of the unfortunate Schumacker. Only see the result of your uncharitable aversion to your fallen predecessor. One of your followers has plotted his ruin in your name, doubtless hoping to make a merit of it to your Grace.”
These words revived the president, as showing him that the suspicions of the bishop, who was acquainted with the entire contents of the casket, had not fallen upon him. Ordener also breathed more freely. He began to see that the innocence of Ethel’s father might be made manifest at the same time with his own. He felt a deep surprise at the singular fate which had led him to pursue a fearful brigand to recover this casket, which his old guide, Benignus Spiagudry, bore about him all the time; that it was actually following him while he was seeking for it. He also reflected on the solemn lesson of the events which, after ruining him by means of this same fatal casket, now proved the instrument of his salvation.
The president, recovering himself, read with much show of indignation, in which the entire audience shared, a lengthy memorandum, in which Musdœmon set forth all the details of the abominable scheme which we have seen him execute in the course of this story. Several times the private secretary attempted to rise and defend himself, but each time he was frowned down. At last the odious reading came to an end amid a murmur of universal horror.
“Halberdiers, seize that man!” said the president, pointing to the private secretary.
The wretch, speechless and almost lifeless, stepped from his place, and was cast into the criminal dock, followed by the hoots of the populace.