h his right hand clutching the barrel of his gun, the other
clenched, and his forehead split with an axe.

These were the statements of the foresters. It was then the peasants'
turn, but no evidence could be obtained from them. Some declared they
had been at home or busy somewhere else at four o'clock, and they were
all decent people, not to be suspected. The court had to content itself
with their negative testimonies.

Frederick was called in. He entered with a manner in no respect
different from his usual one, neither strained nor bold. His hearing
lasted some time, and some of the questions were rather shrewdly framed;
however, he answered them frankly and decisively and related the
incident between himself and the forester truthfully, on the whole,
except the end, which he deemed expedient to keep to himself. His alibi
at the time of the murder was easily proved. The forester lay at the end
of the Mast forest more than three-quarters of an hour's walk from the
ravine where he had spoken with Frederick at four o'clock, and whence
the latter had driven his cows only ten minutes later. Every one had
seen this; all the peasants present did their utmost to confirm it; to
this one he had spoken, to that one, nodded.

The court clerk sat ill-humored and embarrassed. Suddenly he reached
behind him and, presenting something gleaming to Frederick's gaze,
cried: "To whom does this belong?" Frederick jumped back three paces,
exclaiming, "Lord Jesus! I thought you were going to brain me."

His eyes had quickly passed across the deadly tool and seemed to fix
themselves for a moment on a splinter broken out of the handle. "I do
not know," he added firmly. It was the axe which they had found plunged
in the head-forester's skull.

"Look at it carefully," continued the clerk. Frederick took it in his
hand, looked at the top, the bottom, turned it over. "One axe looks like
another," he then said, and laid it unconcernedly on the table. A
blood-stain was visible; he seemed to shudder, but he repeated once more
with decision: "I do not know it." The clerk of the court sighed with
displeasure. He himself knew of nothing more, and had only sought to
bring about a possible disclosure through surprise. There was nothing
left to do but to close the hearing.

To those who are perhaps interested in the outcome of this affair, I
must say that the story was never cleared up, although much effort was
made to throw light upon it and several