away.”  So saying, he went out of the room.  Not one minute had he been gone when there came a gentle knock at the door.  It was raining heavily, and, being a stranger to the city, not dreaming that in any crowded town such a state of things could exist as really did in this, the young man, without hesitation, admitted the person knocking.  He has declared since—­but, perhaps, confounding the feelings gained from better knowledge with the feelings of the moment—­that from the moment he drew the bolt he had a misgiving that he had done wrong.  A man entered in a horseman’s cloak, and so muffled up that the journeyman could discover none of his features.  In a low tone the stranger said, “Where’s Heinberg?”—­“Upstairs.”—­“Call him down, then.”  The journeyman went to the door by which Mr. Heinberg had left him, and called, “Mr. Heinberg, here’s one wanting you!” Mr. Heinberg heard him, for the man could distinctly catch these words:  “God bless me! has the man opened the door?  O, the traitor!  I see it.”  Upon this he felt more and more consternation, though not knowing why.  Just then he heard a sound of feet behind him.  On turning round, he beheld three more men in the room; one was fastening the outer door; one was drawing some arms from a cupboard, and two others were whispering together.  He himself was disturbed and perplexed, and felt that all was not right.  Such was his confusion, that either all the men’s faces must have been muffled up, or at least he remembered nothing distinctly but one fierce pair of eyes glaring upon him.  Then, before he could look round, came a man from behind and threw a sack over his head, which was drawn tight about his waist, so as to confine his arms, as well as to impede his hearing in part, and his voice altogether.  He was then pushed into a room; but previously he had heard a rush upstairs, and words like those of a person exulting, and then a door closed.  Once it opened, and he could distinguish the words, in one voice, “And for that!” to which another voice replied, in tones that made his heart quake, “Aye, for that, sir.”  And then the same voice went on rapidly to say, “O dog! could you hope”—­at which word the door closed again.  Once he thought that he heard a scuffle, and he was sure that he heard the sound of feet, as if rushing from one corner of a room to another.  But then all was hushed and still for about six or seven minutes, until a voice close to his ear said, “Now, wait quietly till some persons come in to release you.  This will happen within half an hour.”  Accordingly, in less than that time, he again heard the sound of feet within the house, his own bandages were liberated, and he was brought to tell his story at the police office.  Mr. Heinberg was found in his bedroom.  He had died by strangulation, and the cord was still tightened about his neck.  During the whole dreadful scene his youthful wife had been locked into a closet, where she heard or saw nothing.