One by one the men went, till at last Muller was left alone, seated onthe saw-bench, his head sunk upon his breast, in one hand holding thewarrant, while with the other he stroked his golden beard. Presently heceased stroking his beard and sat for some minutes perfectly still--sostill that he might have been carved in stone. By this time theafternoon sun had sunk behind the hill and the deep waggon-house wasfull of shadow that seemed to gather round him and invest him with asombre, mysterious grandeur. He looked like a King of Evil, for Evil hasher princes as well as Good, whom she stamps with an imperial seal ofpower, and crowns with a diadem of her own, and among these Frank Mullerwas surely great. A little smile of triumph played upon his beautifulcruel face, a little light danced within his cold eyes and ran down theyellow beard. At that moment he might have sat for a portrait of hismaster, the devil.
Presently he awoke from his reverie. "I have her!" he said to himself;"I have her in a vice! She cannot escape me; she cannot let the old mandie! Those curs have served my purpose well; they are as easy to play onas a fiddle, and I am a good player. Yes, and now we are getting to theend of the tune."
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