The Jews in the vicinity had manifested great interest.  The widow’s house was never empty of mourners and advisers.  Within the memory of man never had so many Jews been seen together in L. Extremely embittered by the murder of their co-religionist they had spared neither pains nor money to trace the criminal.  It is even known that one of them, commonly called “Joel the Usurer,” offered one of his customers, who owed him many hundreds and whom he considered an especially sly fellow, remission of the entire sum if he could help him to arrest Mergel; for the belief was general among the Jews that the murderer could not have escaped without efficient assistance, and was probably still in the vicinity.  When, nevertheless, all this did no good, and the judicial investigation had been declared closed, a number of the most prominent Israelites appeared in the castle the next morning to make a business proposition to the gracious lord.  The object was the beech-tree, under which Aaron’s staff had been found and where the murder had probably been committed.  “Do you want to hew it down, now that it is in full leaf?” asked the Baron.

“No, gracious Sir, it must remain standing winter and summer, as long as there is a chip of it left.”

“But then, if I should have the forest cut down, it would injure the young trees.”

“Well, we do not want it for any ordinary price.”  They offered two hundred thalers.  The deal was made, and all the foresters were strictly forbidden to injure the “Jew’s Beech” in any way.

Soon after, about sixty Jews with a Rabbi at their head were seen going toward the Forest of Brede, all silent, with their eyes cast down.  They stayed in the woods over an hour, and then returned just as seriously and ceremoniously through the village of B. up to the Zellerfeld, where they separated and each went his own way.  The next morning there was a Hebrew inscription carved on the oak with an axe:[Hebrew:]

And where was Frederick?  Without doubt, gone, and far enough away to find it no longer necessary to fear the short arms of such a weak police force.  Soon he was completely forgotten.  His Uncle Simon seldom spoke of him, and then ill.  The Jew’s wife finally consoled herself and took another husband.  Only poor Margaret remained without consolation.

About half a year afterward the lord of the estate read in the presence of the court clerk some letters just received.  “Remarkable, remarkable!” he exclaimed.  “Just think, Kapp, perhaps Mergel is innocent of the murder.  The chairman of the court of P. has just written me:  ’Le vrai n’est pas toujours vraisemblable’ (Truth does not always bear the marks of probability).  I often find this out in my profession, and now I have a new proof of it.  Do you know that it is possible that your dear trusty Frederick Mergel killed the Jew no more than you or I?  Unfortunately proofs are lacking, but the probability is great.  A member of the Schlemming band (which, by-the-by, we now have, for the most part, under lock and key), named Ragged Moses, alleged in the last hearing that he repented of nothing so much as of murdering one of his co-religionists, Aaron, whom he had beaten to death in the woods, and had found only six groschen on him.