The matter concerning his estate of Tannenreuth was worse.  It had been gambled away, and therefore forfeited.  He had already given it up in imagination; it was only necessary to have the transfer made by the notary.  The Swiss should learn how a true knight satisfies even the heaviest losses at the gaming table.  He would not spare Heinz Schorlin.  He meant to reproach the unprincipled fellow who by base arts had alienated the betrothed bride of an honest man—­for that Wolff certainly was—­when adverse circumstances prevented his watching the faithless woman himself.  Twisting the ends of his mustache with two rapid motions, he knocked at the young knight’s door.

CHAPTER XVII.

Twice, three times, Siebenburg rapped, but in vain.  Yet the Swiss was there.  His armour-bearer had told Seitz so downstairs, and he heard his voice within.  At last he struck the door so heavily with the handle of his dagger that the whole house echoed with the sound.  This succeeded; the door opened, and Biberli’s narrow head appeared.  He looked at the visitor in astonishment.

“Tell your master,” said the latter imperiously, recognising Heinz Schorlin’s servant, “that if he closes his lodgings against dunning tradesfolk—­”

“By your knock, my lord,” Biberli interrupted, we really thought the sword cutler had come with hammer and anvil.  My master, however, need have no fear of creditors; for though you may not yet know it, Sir Knight, there are generous noblemen in Nuremberg during the Reichstag who throw away castles and lands in his favour at the gaming table.”

“And hurl their fists even more swiftly into the faces of insolent varlets!” cried Siebenburg, raising his right hand threateningly.  “Now take me to your master at once!”

“Or, at any rate, within his four walls,” replied the servitor, preceding Seitz into the small anteroom from which he had come.  “As to the ’at once,’ that rests with the saints, for you must know——­”

“Nonsense!” interrupted the knight.  “Tell your master that Siebenburg has neither time nor inclination to wait in his antechamber.”

“And certainly nothing could afford Sir Heinz Schorlin greater pleasure than your speedy departure,” Biberli retorted.

“Insolent knave!” thundered Seitz, who perceived the insult conveyed in the reply, grasping the neck of his long robe; but Biberli felt that he had seized only the hood, swiftly unclasped it, and as he hurried to a side door, through which loud voices echoed, Siebenburg heard the low cry of a woman.  It came from behind a curtain spread over some clothes that hung on the wall, and Seitz said to himself that the person must be the maid whom he had just met.  She was in Els Ortlieb’s service, and he was glad to have this living witness at hand.