“Very good; but why did you order them to halt so near Skongen?”
“Because it is the only spot in the mountains where all resistance is impossible. None will ever leave it alive but those whom we select to appear before the court.”
“Capital! Something tells me, Musdœmon, to finish this business quickly. If all looks well in this quarter, it looks stormy in another. You know that we have been making secret search at Copenhagen for the papers which we feared had fallen into the possession of Dispolsen?”
“Well, sir?”
“Well, I have just discovered that the scheming fellow had mysterious relations with that accursed astrologer, Cumbysulsum.”
“Who died recently?”
“Yes; and that the old sorcerer delivered certain papers to Schumacker’s agent before he died.”
“Damnation! He had letters of mine,—a statement of our plot!”
“Your plot, Musdœmon!”
“A thousand pardons, noble Count! But why did your worship put yourself in the power of such a humbug as Cumbysulsum?—the old traitor!”