"A new misfortune has happened, Mr. Burgomaster," cried the city-marshal, entering hastily. "The gardener in the park, who exhibited the aloe for some time past, has suddenly disappeared; but the Netherlandress, who lodged with him, was found dead in her room an hour ago. I went thither with two officers to seal up every thing, and took the town-physician with me; for the flight of the host, and the lady's death, seem to stand in a doubtful connexion. The people of the house talked of poison. I found the woman lying on the floor, in an upper room, horribly disfigured; and on the table was a cup, the dregs of which the physician positively declared to be poison. In her stark right hand the corse held fast this writing. It is addressed to you, Mr. Burgomaster, and sealed moreover."
"To me!" said Erasmus, in alarm; tore the writing away from the marshal, and broke it open. A quantity of dry leaves fell out of it towards him--"Strange!" he murmured, and began to read; and, as he read, the hand in which he held the letter trembled more and more, till at last he grew so faint that he sunk back into his chair. But he forced himself to read it to the end, and then burnt the letter in the flame of the expiring candle, waiting with great patience till the paper was entirely converted into ashes. He then turned to the marshal:--"Let the body be watched by six gens d'armes till night; then let it be carried behind the wall to the churchyard, and there silently interred. I will myself take an inventory of all that is left, and you will be silent as to the whole transaction--on your oath of office."
The old man's voice broke at the conclusion of his discourse, and with tottering steps he left the Sessions-chamber.
Three years had passed since Tausdorfs death. Christopher Friend had remained a widower, and by all means, just as well as unjust, had considerably increased his mammon. He was asleep in his own bedroom, on a beautiful summer's night, when he was awakened by a grasp at his throat, and, on opening his eyes in terror, there sat upon the bed two men, fearfully illuminated by the moon. They were enveloped in dark cloaks, with black masks on their faces, and held two daggers glittering at his breast, in the pale yellow light. The one figure had his hand about Christopher's throat, and seemed ready to close it at the slightest motion of his victim.