ong. Look here, this is my money-box." He drew out the iron chest. "It
is safe from thieves," said he, with self-complacency, "for no one in
the town can stir it but I, and no one can open it, for the lock is the
masterpiece of the father of my dear departed wife. Few besides me can
lift the lid, and even if many of them came, they would find it too
tough a job for them; so you may believe that the money is safe here
from rogues, and swindlers, and the like," said he, triumphantly. He was
about to put the key into the lock. "Stop," he suddenly cried; "one word
more. I trust you, baron, as I do my Karl--that of course; but just
answer me this question: You really are the young baron?"

Now it was Eugene's turn to smile, and, putting his hand into his
pocket, he said, "Here is my patent."

"Ah! many thanks," cried Sturm, carefully looking through the paper, and
reverentially reading the names, then bowing, and giving it back with
two fingers in the most respectful manner possible.

"And here," continued Eugene, "I happen to have a letter of Wohlfart's
in my pocket."

"Of course," cried Sturm, looking at the address, "that is his living
hand."

"And here is his signature."

"Your devoted Wohlfart," read the giant; "and if he writes that, you may
be sure that it is true. So now the business is settled," said he,
opening the box. "Here is the money. So, then, nineteen hundred
dollars!" He took five great rolls out of the chest, held them
comfortably in one hand, and gave them to Eugene. "Here are a thousand."

Eugene tried in vain to hold them.

"Just so," said the porter; "I will bring them down to the carriage. The
rest I must give you in promissory notes. These are worth a little less
than a hundred dollars, as of course you know."

"It does not signify," said Eugene.

"No," said the giant. "It can be mentioned in the note of hand. And now
the matter is all settled." He closed the chest, and pushed it under the
bed.

Eugene re-entered the little parlor with a lightened heart.

"Now, then, I will carry the money to the carriage," cried Sturm.

"The note of hand has yet to be written."

"True," nodded the giant; "we must do things in order. Just see, sir,
whether you can write with my coarse pen. If I had known that I should
have such a visitor, I would have brought a better one with me from Mr.
Schroeter's."

Eugene wrote out an acknowledgment, while Sturm sat by his can of beer,
and looked at him in adm