Morok again approached the judge, and glancing at the orphans, recommenced speaking in a low voice.  “Oh” cried the burgomaster, with, indignation, “you go too far now.”

“I affirm nothing,” said Morok, hastily; “it is a mere supposition founded on—­” and he again brought his lips close to the ear of the judge.

“After all, why not?” resumed the magistrate, lifting up his hands; “such people are capable of anything.  He says that he brings them from the heart of Siberia:  why may not all this prove to be a tissue of impudent falsehoods?—­But I am not to be made a dupe twice,” cried the burgomaster, in an angry tone, for, like all persons of a weak and shifting character, he was without pity for those whom he thought capable of having beguiled his compassion.

“Do not be in a hurry to decide—­don’t give to my words more weight than they deserve,” resumed Morok with a hypocritical affectation of humility.  “I am unhappily placed in so false a position with regard to this man,”—­pointing to Dagober—­“that I might be thought to have acted from private resentment for the injury he has done me; perhaps I may so act without knowing it, while I fancy that I am only influenced by love of justice, horror of falsehood, and respect for our holy religion.  Well—­who lives long enough will know—­and may heaven forgive me if I am deceived!—­In any case, the law will pronounce upon it; and if they should prove innocent, they will be released in a month or two.”

“And, for that reason, I need not hesitate.  It is a mere measure of precaution; they will not die of it.  Besides, the more I think of it, the more it seems probable.  Yes this man is doubtless a French spy or agitator, especially when I compare these suspicions with the late demonstration of the students at Frankfort.”

“And, upon that theory, nothing is better fitted to excite and stir up those hot-headed youths than—­” He glanced significantly at the two sisters; then, after a pause, he added with a sigh, “Satan does not care by what means he works out his ends!”

“Certainly, it would be odious, but well-devised.”

“And then, Mr Burgomaster, look at him attentively:  you will see that this man has a dangerous face.  You will see—­”

In continuing thus to speak in a low tone, Morok had evidently pointed to Dagobert.  The latter, notwithstanding his self-command, felt that the restraint he had imposed upon himself, since his arrival at this unlucky inn, and above all wince the commencement of the conversation between Morok and the burgomaster, was becoming no longer bearable; besides, he saw clearly that all his efforts to conciliate the favor of the judge were rendered completely null by the fatal influence of the brute-tamer; so, losing patience, he advanced towards him with his arms folded on his breast, and said to him in a subdued voice:  “Was it of me that you were whispering to Mr. Burgomaster?”

“Yes,” said Morok, looking fixedly at him.