Then the thorough search of the house began. Every room in both
stories, every corner of the attic and the cellar, was looked over
thoroughly. The stable, the barns, the garden and even the well
underwent a close examination. There was no trace of a body
anywhere, not even a trail of blood, nothing which would give the
slightest clue as to how the murderers had entered, how they had
fled, or what they had done with their victim.

The great gate of the courtyard was closed. The men, reinforced by
the farm hands, entered the church, while Liska and the dairy-maids
huddled in the servants' dining-room in a trembling group around
the old housekeeper. The search in the church as well as in the
vestry was equally in vain. There was no trace to be found there
any more than in the house.

Meanwhile, during these hours of anxious seeking, the rumour of
another terrible crime had spread through the village, and a crowd
that grew from minute to minute gathered in front of the closed
gates to the rectory, in front of the church, the closed doors of
which did not open although it was a high feast day. The utter
silence from the steeple, where the bells hung mute, added to the
spreading terror. Finally the doctor came out from the rectory,
accompanied by the magistrate, and announced to the waiting
villagers that their venerable pastor had disappeared under
circumstances which left no doubt that he had met his death at
the hand of a murderer. The peasants listened in shuddering silence,
the men pale-faced, the women sobbing aloud with frightened children
hanging to their skirts. Then at the magistrate's order, the crowd
dispersed slowly, going to their homes, while a messenger set off