“Or nothing of the kind!” interrupted Neforis, picking up a pair of man’s shoes which lay on the ground by the sufferer.

Orion turned as pale as death and hastily took the shoes from his mother’s hand; he would have liked to fling them up and away through the open roof.  How came they here?  Whose were they?  Who had been here this night?  Before going into the tablinum he had locked the outer door on that side, and had returned subsequently to open it again for the people in the court-yard.  It was not till after he had done this that the crazy girl had rushed upon him; she must have been lurking somewhere about when he first went through the atrium but had not then found courage enough to place herself in his way.  When she had thrown herself upon him, the dog had pulled her down before he could prevent it:  he would certainly have sprung past her and have come to the rescue but that he must thus have betrayed his visit to the tablinum.

It had required all his presence of mind to hurry to his room, fling on his night garments, and rush back to the scene of disaster.  When Paula had first called for help he was already on his way, and with what feelings!  Never had he felt so bewildered, so confused, so deeply dissatisfied with himself; for the first time in his life, as he stood face to face with Paula, he dared not look straight into the eyes of his fellow-man.

And now these shoes!  The owner must have come there with the crazy girl, and if he had seen him in the tablinum and betrayed what he was doing there, how could he ever again appear in his parents’ presence?  He had looked upon it as a good joke, but now it had turned to bitter earnest.  At any cost he must and would prevent his nocturnal doings from becoming known!  Some new wrong-doing-nay, the worst was preferable to a stain on his honor.—­Whose could the shoes be?  He suddenly held them up on high, crying with a loud voice:  “Do these shoes belong to any of you, you people?  To the gate-keeper perhaps?”

When all were silent, and the porter denied the ownership, he stood thinking; then he added with a defiant glare, and in a husky voice:  “Then some one who had broken into the house has been startled and dropped them.  Our house-stamp is here on the leather:  they were made in our work-shop, and they still smell of the stable-here, Sebek, you can convince yourself.  Take them into your keeping, man; and tomorrow morning we will see who has left this suspicious offering in our vestibule.—­You were the first to reach the spot, fair Paula.  Did you see a man about?”

“Yes,” she replied with a hostile and challenging stare.

“And which way did he go?”

“He fled across the viridarium like a coward, running across the poor, well-kept grass-plot to save time, and vanished upstairs in the dwelling-rooms.”