"What do you think it means?" asked Minna.

"It can scarcely be anything very serious, I think. Probably it is the outcome of old von Augener's presence at Munich, and maybe half an hour's conversation with him will be enough to put things right again.

I had intended to see him in any event."

I spoke much more lightly of the matter than I thought, in order to rea.s.sure her, and I was pleased to see my words had the effect I desired.

When the train came in, the police official showed us to a carriage, and, with another apology for his intrusion, entered it after us. I made no demur, because I knew it would be superfluous. We must make the best of a bad job, and consequently I settled Minna comfortably in a corner of the carriage so that she might sleep through the night. I took my seat opposite to her, and during the whole of the long, wearisome journey I sat rapt in thought, speculating upon the possible reasons for the arrest and trying to see the best course to be taken in her interest.

I was now disposed to blame myself bitterly, since matters had come to this pa.s.s, for not having, in the first instance, abstained from meddling with the plot against the mad King. I had pitted my wits against the men in the Ostenburg interest, and had allowed Minna to appear to be implicated in everything that was done, trusting to my own ingenuity to beat them at their own game. I had done it successfully to a point; but now I could see how, like a fool, I had miscalculated the real effect of this intervention from Imperial headquarters.

The flaw in the present situation was one I could see easily enough now.

I had neglected to provide anything like sufficient proof of Minna's innocence, her dislike of the scheme, and her disinclination even to think of accepting the throne. I could see now clearly what I ought to have seen at the start--that if Minna had actually left the country at the moment following her father's death, and had openly relinquished all claim to the throne, she would have had an absolutely clean case so far as Berlin was concerned, and, if necessary, could have appealed there for protection against any efforts of the Ostenburgs to harm her.

The danger to her from the Ostenburgs, which had then loomed so large in my thought, was dwarfed now by this greater and actual danger from Berlin. How, then, was I to repair the blunder I had made?

There was one possible chance--forlorn so far as Minna was concerned, and almost desperate for myself. But the pith of everything would be now that I should be able to prove beyond question and suspicion the absolute sincerity of my motives, and be able to thoroughly convince the Emperor and his advisers that my version of the facts was the correct one. Everything might turn upon this.

As an adventurer who had been known first as Heinrich Fischer, an actor, next as Henry Fisher, an Englishman, and afterward as Hans von Fromberg, only to change once more into the Prince von Gramberg, I could not hope to be believed. Even this very attempt to get Minna out of the country would be charged against me as a crowning offence; while I might rely upon it that every word and act I had spoken and done in the character of the Prince would be construed in the worst light by my enemies.

But what if I declared myself in my true character?

The question stirred a host of old memories and a.s.sociations which came crowding thick and fast upon me with conflicting force and perplexing contradictions. I lived again in thought the crowded week of my life that came between the scene on the yacht and my supposed death. I could not tell how far that act of expiation on my part had changed the royal feeling toward me; nor on the other hand could I gauge what effect would be produced by the avowal that I cheated every one by the farce of my supposed death.

There was one thing on which I thought I could rely, however.

There had been many acts of close friendship between the Prince and myself, and on one occasion I had rendered him a service which he declared at the time would make him ready to grant me any favor I should ever ask. I had none too high an opinion of the grat.i.tude of princes, and had never urged any request; while it was more than likely he would consider what had happened since had completely cancelled any obligation. But I was prepared to risk any and every thing now, and to exhaust every possible resource to help Minna at this juncture.

I had never had such a motive to spur my energies, and I ransacked my memory for incidents which I thought might be turned to help my purpose.

I was in this frame of mind when we arrived at Munich; but I had not got much farther in my plans than a resolve to use every means that might offer, regardless of any effect upon myself.

Minna awoke, chilled and cramped by the long journey, and the cold gray light of the morning depressed her spirits. She looked pale and frightened as the train entered the station, and we peered out curiously to see what reception awaited us.

"Keep a brave heart, Minna," I whispered.

And she smiled a rather wan, weary smile in reply.

"Where are we to go?" I asked the police official.

"I expect to find instructions here," he answered.

Then Minna gave a little start and cry of surprise.

"There is aunt Gratz," she said. "What can that mean?"

I could make no suggestion; but the reason of her presence was soon clear enough.

As we alighted she came forward.

"I should think you are ashamed of yourself, Minna," was her greeting.

"If not, I am ashamed of you. Thank G.o.d, we have saved you, though only on the very brink, it seems."

"There is no need for you to say that to me," returned Minna warmly.

"There is very great need, indeed. You have been the victim of this man's villany."

"There has been no villany--except, perhaps, that which you and the Count von Nauheim attempted yesterday, and cousin Hans succeeded in foiling."

"Cousin Hans, indeed. Poor child; it's only your own obstinacy which prevents your seeing that this man is a wicked impostor who has----"

"Pardon me, baroness----" I began, when she turned on me.

"I will not pardon you nor allow you to speak to me or to the poor girl whom you have so shamefully deceived. But you are unmasked at last, and will be punished as you deserve. Come, Minna. You are to come with me."

At that moment the police official who had travelled with us came forward with another man, who said:

"The countess is to go to her own house here with this lady; and you are to accompany me, if you please."

"As you will," I answered.

At that the tears forced themselves into Minna's eyes, and she came very close to me and gave me her hand.

"We shall meet again soon. I am sure of that. Meanwhile"--and she raised her head proudly as she looked round at the others present, and said: "I wish all to know that I am your promised wife. You have saved my life, and more than my life; and I can never sufficiently repay you for all you have done. When every one else was treacherous, you were stanch and brave on my behalf. Let them say what they will, I know the truth, and nothing shall ever make me doubt you."

I had no words ready for a reply, but I raised her hand to my lips; and, with a lingering look into my eyes, she went away, her face aflame with her gallant little act of loyalty to me.

Then I turned to the man who had spoken to me.

"And what is the charge against me?" I asked.

"You will learn it to-day," he said, with courteous curtness. "Be good enough to come with me."

We entered a carriage that was waiting, and drove to the police bureau, the official stolidly declining to exchange a single word on the way.

There they gave me breakfast, and afterward I was left by myself for some two or three hours. At the end of that time the same man entered the room--for I had not been put to the indignity of having to enter a police cell--and requested me to accompany him, though again he would not say where we were to go.

I was not much surprised, however, when I found the carriage approaching the palace, for I had detected old von Augener's hand in the matter. He delighted in secrecy and surprises. I was led through several corridors into an ante-room, where I waited some time until the door of an inner room was opened and I was told to enter.

I went forward, and, as I had antic.i.p.ated, the first object which my eyes encountered in the room was the hard, stern face of von Augener, whose sharp, piercing eyes looked at me, curiously and menacingly, from under the heavy brows I knew well enough.

He let me stand before his table for some minutes without a word, and after his first glance at me pretended to be writing. He finished this, and then took up a bundle of papers, which he turned over leisurely. I guessed that his motive was to make me understand by this brusk treatment the change in my position. But I let him understand quietly that it had no such effect on me as he wished. I carried a chair close to the side of his table and sat down, saying lightly, as I crossed my legs:

"I've had rather a long journey, so you'll excuse me if I sit down until you are ready to commence our conversation."

At the sound of my voice I saw him start, bend a sharp, keen look on me, and then appear to dive into his capacious memory for the connection which it stirred. Then he said as sternly and harshly as he could:

"This is no drawing-room audience. I don't allow prisoners to sit in my presence. Be so good as to stand up," and he motioned with his hand.

"Thank you, but I deny your right to address me in that tone. I am no prisoner, and this is no court. While I am here I demand to be treated with common courtesy."