A Dash for a Throne

"I WAS THINKING—COUSIN."

The pause before the use of the word and the emphasis upon it told me she had more than her usual meaning.

"I can guess your thought, I believe," I said.

"Well?"

"You were wondering whether you are right still to call me cousin."

"I don't believe what they told me," she replied quickly, for I had guessed her thought.

"What did they tell you? No; I won't ask that either. I will tell you freely all that has to be told."

I paused an instant, and suddenly the clean, clear moonlight which flooded everything so brilliantly seemed to turn chill and fear-laden for me.

The horse moved restlessly, striking the ground harshly with his fore hoof. I stroked his neck to quiet him and left my hand on the crest of it.

"Well?" The question was asked softly and gently.

"It is hard to tell it," I answered in a low and rather unsteady voice.

"To me? Are you afraid of me?" and I felt a hand placed on mine.

"It is hard to speak words that may divide us—but I have deceived you. I am not your cousin. I am not the Prince."

I felt the fingers on mine start and tighten for a second, and then close in a warm, trustful pressure.

"Can I make the telling easier for you? I had made up my mind that that was so; but the rest? Who are you? Don't tell me unless you wish. I trust you none the less. You remember I told you days ago—how long it seems—you had a secret and that I saw it. Now I know part of it; and I am glad of the knowledge—not glad that you are not my cousin Hans; glad only that you have told me. But I am eager for the unknown part."

I could not beat down my feelings to speak coolly; so I waited to fight for my self-control.

"They told me only one thing that should be hard for you to tell me—and that I know was untrue," she continued, as if it were a pleasure to bare her heart to me. "That you were not true to me, but seeking to betray me. I would have laughed at the absurdity if the malignity of such a slander had not maddened me."

"No, I have been no traitor to you," I answered readily. "That I can declare from my soul. But I have kept this knowledge from you. Even that I would not have done but that I could not see how else I could go on helping you. I could do nothing unless men thought I was the Prince."

"Yet you could have trusted me," she said, with a gentle sigh of reproach.

"Had I told you, I could no longer have remained at the castle. It was not that I did not trust you—indeed, I longed to tell you, not only that but all the rest."

"The rest?" she repeated softly in a low voice that trembled; and again I felt her fingers on mine start.

"Yes. The secret at which even you did not guess. I can judge pretty much what these people have told you—that I am an adventurer and an ex-play-actor. There is a secret behind that which I have not shared with a single soul on earth; but I will tell you."

Then I told her plainly of my meeting with von Fromberg, the mistake under which I was first taken to Gramberg, and the chain of circumstances which had kept me from breaking silence as to my identity and had seemed to drive me into accepting the part that had been thrust upon me.

I did not dwell too strongly upon the one motive that had influenced me—the wish to save her from the plot against her safety. But she was quick to read it all; and maybe her feelings for me prompted her to give it exaggerated importance.

She listened almost in silence, merely asking a question here and there when some point was not clear, and at the close she sat thoughtful, and said sweetly:

"It means a great loss to me—and yet perhaps a greater gain."

I looked up with a question in my eyes.

"I have lost my cousin, it seems—surely the truest cousin that ever a woman had; but then I have gained a friend whose stanchness must be even greater than my cousin's, for there was no claim of kinship to motive his sacrifices for me. But, cousin or friend, you are still——" She did not finish the sentence.

"Still what?" I asked.

I think she was going to make some pretty quip in reply, for I saw a smile half mischievous and all witching on her face; but, reading by my looks how much store I set on her answer, she said earnestly:

"The one man in the world who has proved himself as true as steel to me, and whom I trust with my whole heart."

"You may," I answered, with an earnestness equal to her own, and my hand, which was resting on the horse's neck, turned and sought hers, and pressed it in a strong, firm clasp. "Whatever happens," I added, "I can at least be your friend, and I will."

We stood thus awhile, our heart-thoughts in close sympathy, till she started and lifted her head. Those quick ears of hers had caught the sound of a horse's hoofs approaching from behind us.

"Some one is coming. You have not yet told me something. How am I to call you, and by what name to think of you?"

"There is still a longish story to tell, and I will tell it all to you; but for the present we must keep up our play of cousinship until the truth can be safely told. That will not be long now."

"And then? But there, I do not wish our cousinship to end. I am glad to know so much, however. Every time I say 'cousin' I shall think of this talk to-night."

I took the horse's bridle again then, and led him on, for the sounds of the hoofs behind us were growing clear and distinct, and we did not speak until Major Gessler rode up to us.

"You have not got so far as I expected, Prince," was his greeting. "I'm afraid I seemed to leave you rather in the lurch."

"This horse of ours was tired, and we stayed a time on the road," I answered, not without a slight feeling of embarrassment. We should probably have reached the house at Landsberg but for the long halt I had made in telling my story. "But what is your news, major?"

"They are following," he said briefly, and he made a sign to me that something very serious had occurred, which I judged he did not care to tell before Minna.

She saw the gesture and read it also.

"Have they fought?" she asked.

"No, there was no fighting; but the Count von Nauheim has met with a serious accident—very serious."

He thought evidently that any ill news in regard to him might need to be broken carefully to Minna.

"You may speak plainly," I said. "Is he dead?"

"Yes, he is dead. When he ran off in that way, and Signor Praga after him, the shots we heard were fired at the count's horse by his pursuer. His object was not to kill the man, but to prevent his escape. Both shots missed their aim, however, and then he determined to ride the man down. On the brow of the hill, where you saw them disappear, comes a straight bit of road for a couple of miles, at the end of which is a steep, dangerous hill. Both men rode like madmen across the level—Praga, who is a splendid horseman, gaining steadily all the time. Finding that he was being caught, von Nauheim began to punish his horse mercilessly, and when they came to the steep descent the poor brute seems to have stretched himself for a final effort to answer the call on him. For a moment he raced away from the other, but when about half-way down the hill he collapsed suddenly, and dropped like a stone. So frightful was the speed at which they had been going that horse and rider rolled over and over several times in an almost indistinguishable mass. Praga, who was not far behind, had great difficulty in avoiding them and in checking his own horse. When he went back to von Nauheim he found him dead. The stirrups had prevented him from getting free when the smash came, and the horse had fallen on him and rolled over him, breaking his back and crushing the life out of him. He was a horrible sight."

THE HORSE HAD FALLEN ON HIM AND ROLLED OVER HIM.

"I am glad Praga didn't kill him," I said. "But I can't say I am sorry he has met his death. He deserved it."

The others made no reply, and we held on our way without speaking. The officer rode on the other side of Minna; and the silence of the night was broken only by the sound of the horses' hoofs, the major's being restive, and breaking now and then into an amble.

"Do you know much of Signor Praga, Prince?" asked the major after a long silence.

"Not enough to speak of him," I replied shortly; and the effort at conversation closed as abruptly as it had begun.

When we had covered a couple more miles, he said he would ride on and prepare for our arrival, and I was not sorry to be quit of him.

"It is a terrible end," said Minna thoughtfully, referring to von Nauheim.

"A more merciful one than he deserved," said I. I could find no pity for such a scoundrel. "He has been a traitor all his life."

"He is dead," said the girl gently.

"But he lived too long. Years ago I would have killed him had he not run from me."

"You knew him years ago?"

"And never knew anything but ill of him. It was because of my knowledge of him that I stayed on at Gramberg. That is part of the story I have yet to tell you."

"When?" she asked eagerly.

"To-morrow. I would tell it you now, but we are close to the house."

And a few minutes later we turned in at the lodge gates, and were winding our way through the high shrubs which lined the drive for more than half the way to the mansion.

When we reached the house an old motherly woman came forward to receive Minna and take her to her rooms.

The girl stood a moment, and put both her hands into mine, with a gesture she had used once just after my arrival at Gramberg. She was thinking of it, too.

"Do you remember my telling you at Gramberg how I trusted you?" she asked, leaving her hands in mine and looking into my eyes.

"I could never forget it," said I, speaking low.

"My instinct was very true, wasn't it? I knew. And after to-night I trust my friend more than I even trusted my cousin. Goodnight, friend—and cousin."

"Goodnight."

A slight shade passed over her face for a moment, though a great light was shining in her eyes, and she waited as it I should say more.

"Good night, Minna," I whispered.

And then she cast her eyes down and blushed; and after standing thus for the space of perhaps five seconds she took her hands gently out of mine, glanced once rapidly into my face, smiled, and turned to the woman, who was waiting at a distance.

"Be up early, cousin," I called to her in a tone of assumed indifference, as if anything about her could be indifferent to me, "for we must make our plans."

"I am quite as anxious as you," she replied; but the real answer was with her eyes, which reflected the thought beneath my words—that I should be all eagerness till the time came for us to meet again.

FLIGHT

As soon as Minna had left me the major brought the officer to apologize for the conduct which had so exasperated me on my arrival. The man had of course exceeded his instructions, and although the explanation did not by any means make amends for what I had endured, it was tendered in good faith, and I accepted it. I was in no mood to harbor anger against any one. What I most wished now was to be alone to recall the scene with Minna on the road, the ineffable sweetness of her voice, the soft tenderness of her looks, and the magic thrill of her touch.

When the major asked me my plans, I answered almost at random, for my thoughts were away back with the darkly robed figure on the horse looking down on me with a light in the eyes which it filled me with sheer ecstasy to believe had been kindled by the torch of love.

I pleaded that I was vastly fatigued, and then went to my room, to lie tossing from side to side like a love-mad loon, grudging even the hours to sleep because I should not be able to think of Minna.

I was in truth crazed with the knowledge that she loved me; and when I awoke in the morning—for sleep conquered my silly resistance—it was with just the same fevered longing to be with her.

Yet I had plenty to think of and to plan; and when I forced myself to think that even now, though things had gone so well thus far, there was much to do before Minna's safety was secured, I began to think rationally and connectedly.

As I stepped into the fresh morning air I found Praga out before me, pacing up and down in heavy thought. He had not been to bed at all, but was like iron, and seemed as fresh as the morning itself.

"I was thinking of rousing you, Prince," he said. "What about the Duke Marx? That best of good fellows von Krugen may be getting anxious."

"I can say nothing yet; but I think my purpose is accomplished, and that I shall send you to him with an order for the duke's release."

"What!" he cried in a tone of astonishment. "Throw it all up when you have the game in your hands? A couple of days' firmness and the countess will have the throne as surely as I know how to whip a sword from its scabbard. You're not turning chicken-hearted, surely?"

"You do not understand matters," I said shortly.

"Understand! There's not much wit needed to understand this business. I know enough what the people think and want, and what a bold coup would do at this crisis; and if ever a woman had a crown at her feet, and for the mere picking up, it's the countess."

"Maybe; but matters are as I say. I will give you my decision later."

"I hope you won't let yourself be ruled by a woman's tricky fears. There's danger that way, too. Once give these Ostenburg folk the power, and you may whistle for your chances of any safety. I wouldn't trust one of them. What will you do?"

"I have not decided," I repeated; and it was evident that my apparent vacillation mortified him. But the mood passed in a second, as did most moods with him, except revenge, and he laughed.

"Well, of course, it must be as you please. It is your game, not mine," and he waved his hand as though the matter were settled. Then he asked with another change of tone:

"And about the burial of that carrion von Nauheim?"

"Where is the body lying?"

"In the shed of a cottage nearest to the spot where he broke his miserable neck."

"I will leave directions here for the funeral. There will be some sort of inquiry, and you may have to be present as witness. But I don't suppose any of those who have used him will take much heed of his death, and probably Major Gessler will be able to make all arrangements."

Later on I discussed this with him, and he agreed to see that everything the authorities might require should be done.

"If you're giving up things, you'll have no more need of me, I suppose?" asked the Corsican after a pause.

"You put it bluntly," I answered. "I hope, of course, that all these complications are nearly over, but if you will let me I shall wish to see you about your future. But for you I could not have carried this through, and I shall not forget that."

"I never take too serious thought about what you call my future, Prince. If I killed the brother, I've helped to save the sister, and, if she knows it, that's enough for me." He said this with as much earnestness as I had ever observed in him save in his moods of furious passion. But he lapsed into his more customary temper immediately after, and added: "Besides, I've had my revenge, although I'm sorry I didn't run the brute through before he had the luck to break his neck. To the close of my life I shall regret never having had him to play with at the end of my sword."

At that moment Major Gessler came out of the house looking very serious and called me aside.

"I have very grave news from Munich, Prince," he said. I noticed that he was now always very careful to give me the title which I think he knew did not belong to me. "Last night the Kaiser's confidential adviser, von Augener, arrived there from Berlin. The news of this business has caused a big stir in the capital, and the Emperor himself is expected at Munich. The Duke Marx should be there without an hour's unnecessary delay."

"Had you held the Countess Minna safe in your charge yesterday, Major Gessler, he might have been there now. It is not I who am responsible for the delay."

I spoke firmly, for I resented the too peremptory tone he adopted.

"What are your plans, then?" he asked next. "Will you give me the authority for his release?"

"I can tell you better an hour hence, when I have seen my cousin."

"You must be good enough to give me some definite news to send to Munich."

"You can send them the reason for the delay," I retorted hotly. "I decline your dictation, sir, and can dispense with your interference."

He was about to reply with equal warmth when Minna came out of one of the windows.

"Good morning, gentlemen," she said brightly. "Good morning, cousin Hans," and, her face radiant with smiles, she came to me holding out her hands.

All my anger fled at the sight of her, and when I held her hands in mine and read in her eyes the answering emotions to those which were rushing out through mine I had no thoughts save of peace, gladness, goodwill, and love.

"We must speak together at once," I said. "Shall we walk in the gardens here?"

I led her to a large, wide lawn, through the centre of which ran a broad path. It was a spot where we could not well be overheard.

"I passed the night in wondering what I was to hear this morning," she said. "I think it must be good news, for I was so happy."

"You have not slept, then?"

"Oh, yes. But while I slept I dreamt, and now and then had spells of delicious wakefulness. I don't know which was the better—the dreams that all was right, or the waking beliefs that all would soon be."

"I hope it will be," I declared earnestly.

"Nay, I am sure it all will," she declared, as if in rebuke of my doubt. "Isn't this a lovely old garden?" she cried. "Not so good as Gramberg, of course, because no place could be so dear to me as that. But yet lovely. And what flowers! Did you ever see such magnificence? And the perfumes! They seem to distil the very essence of peace. And what a change from yesterday. It was a prison then—to-day a veritable palace of delight. Heigho! And you have changed it for me! And now for this news. You know where you left off? I do. I think I could repeat every word you said. You are going to tell me who you were before you became Heinrich Fischer, the actor at Frankfort."

"I was a nameless wanderer, and went there almost direct from my death and burial."

She stood still in the path and looked at me in blank surprise; her face wrinkled in perplexity that was only half earnest; and, despite the serious nature of things, her mood partially infected me.

"Your death?" she said in wonderment.

"It is all true. Did you ever hear your brother speak of a young Count von Rudloff, in the navy, who was at one time a friend of the Royal Family, and whose death at Berlin about five years ago aroused some comment? It happened almost immediately after the Prince, now his Majesty the Emperor, had met with an accident on board the Imperial yacht."

"The Count von Rudloff?" she repeated thoughtfully, saying the name over once or twice as though some old memories were partly stirred by it. "I think I did—but what is that to us?"

"To me much—everything, indeed. I am the Count von Rudloff," and then I told her unreservedly the whole of my strange story.

Her first comment surprised me.

"Is this the story you thought would part us?" she asked.

"I had misled you."

"Yes, and for a base and cruel purpose—to help me out of my trouble," and she raised her eyebrows as she smiled. "You must judge me curiously if you think I should consider that a cause for sacrificing the truest friend a helpless girl could have. I believe I could almost be angry with you for that judgment."

"But my helping you was, after all, only for a selfish purpose," I said after a pause.

"What was that?" she asked quickly, all unsuspecting.

"I loved you, Minna."

We were near the end of the gravel walk and, instead of turning as we had done before, I walked on past some large laurels which hid us from the house.

I stopped there and took her hand, which she left freely in mine.

"I have told you all now," I whispered. "Your answer?"

"This is the happiest day of my life," she murmured.

I put my arm round her and held her to my heart.

"You love me, then?"

Her face was close to me, she was smiling trustfully and lovingly, and the answer came in the pressure of her lips to mine as our hearts met in pledge of our betrothal. After that we stood together there, just a pair of happy lovers, for whom the sun was made to shine and the earth to be beautiful, and forgetting all else save the one immeasurable fact of our avowed love. A commotion somewhere near the house recalled us to ourselves as the sounds floated across to our ears. They broke in upon our love ecstasy, and with a sigh Minna unwound her arms from my neck, and we stood hand in hand a minute.

"Better than friendship or cousinship, Minna?" I asked.

The glad glow on her cheeks and in her eyes answered me, and I kissed her again.

"And now we must be common-sense folk, for we have to decide what course to take."

"I can make no decision—except that you must not leave me," she said.

"Yet we are forgetting you are the Queen."

"Do you remember what I once told you would be my first command?"

"Your Majesty has been anticipated. I have told you all—and the assembly was certainly a very Privy Council."

"Yes. Just Queen—and——" she paused, and then, hiding her face on my shoulder, added softly, "and King. I want no other throne than this."

It was very sweet fooling, though not very witty, and I would have been glad enough to continue it if I had not seen through the little gaps in the bushes that a number of people had come out of the house and were walking in different directions through the grounds. Some were coming our way.

"Let us walk on here, dearest," I whispered. "There are men coming from the house in search of me, I think. And remember I must still be for the present the Prince, and you my cousin."

We moved away then and walked as if in consultation, and I told her what I thought we had best do.

"I do not know how matters will go at Munich," I said; "but I hear this morning that the Kaiser himself will see what the trouble is, and that already old von Augener—the 'Kaiser's own man,' as they call him—is there making inquiries."

"He is the awful man who came to you years ago, isn't he?" cried Minna, with fear speaking from her eyes at the mere thought of danger to me.

"Yes—but there is no reason to fear that he will recognize me. I am so completely changed. The more serious consideration is what view he will take of your supposed part in the disturbance, and of my having kidnapped the Duke Marx on your behalf. I told Baron Heckscher that you were only too anxious to resign all claim to the throne, and that I would use my influence with you—it was not so great then as now," I broke off to say.

"Oh, yes, I should always have done whatever you wished," replied Minna. "It never occurred to me to do anything else."

"Well, I told him I thought you would remain in hiding long enough for him to settle matters in the Ostenburg interest. And this coming of von Augener makes me more inclined than ever to advise you to put the frontier between yourself and these plotters."

"When shall we start?" she asked instantly.

"And then I can watch your interests at Munich."

"You do not wish me to go alone?"

"Not to go alone. But unless you know of some better place you might well go to Charmes to your real cousin; and you could stay there until these troubles have blown over."

"And you?"

"I shall of course go with you to Charmes, and then return with all speed to Munich to watch matters there."

"Why should you go back to face the risks there alone?"

"I can do more good for you as well as for myself if I know you are in a place of safety."

"We can talk of that on the way; but what should I do now if anything happened to you?" she cried in distress.

I loved her for the words, but could not thank her as I would, for at that moment one of the men caught sight of us and came hastily toward me.

"Major Gessler is very desirous of seeing your Highness at once," he said.

"I will come to the house," I said, and with that we turned, the man hastening on to give my message.

"I am sorry to have to press you, Prince," said the major, coming to meet me; "but I am most anxious to send tidings to Munich. Have you made your decision? It is nearly three hours since I spoke to you."

I saw Minna start with surprise at this mention of the time we had been together.

"It has been a complicated problem to discuss, major," I answered gravely. "But we have decided it at last. The countess will leave by the first train from Landsberg, and I shall accompany her. At the station I will hand the authority you need to you and Signor Praga."

"And your destination?" he asked.

"Is our own affair, sir," I returned stiffly.

"I merely asked so that I should know when to meet you at the station;" and he turned on his heel and left us abruptly.

"I can be ready directly," said Minna, and she ran into the house.

A few minutes later she returned, and we had breakfast together, in the middle of which a messenger from Major Gessler brought me a list of the chief trains in each direction. I chose the first that started westward; and we set out soon afterward for the station.

There Praga was waiting, and I gave him the authority which I had written out to von Krugen to release the Duke Marx, and added in a tone loud enough for the major to hear:

"I shall be in Munich to-night or to-morrow. You can see me there."

A minute later the train started.

"Now for freedom, Minna. A few hours more and we shall be across the French frontier!" I exclaimed.

"Did you hear Major Gessler say that we had been three hours in the garden this morning, Karl?" asked Minna, blushing and smiling. "Can it really have been so long?"

"The time did not fly on the same wings for him as for us," I answered; "and if the next half-dozen or so will only speed at the same pace, I shall breathe all the more freely."

"And will they, do you think?" she asked demurely as she crossed from her seat to that next mine.

They did, although I had many moments of anxiety.

The journey itself was as uneventful for some hours as a tourist's trip. We had the compartment to ourselves for the greater part of the time, though occasionally an unwelcome passenger came in for a few miles, and so broke the thread of our long, delicious talk. But my anxiety began to increase when, as the hot afternoon passed and the cool evening air refreshed us, we began to approach the frontier. I could not put my fears into words, nor could I see any probable reason to fear interruption. But whenever we stopped I looked out with an ever-increasing apprehension I could not entirely allay, and scanned curiously the people standing about on the platforms.

As we ran into the frontier station this feeling quickened up into excitement. A few minutes would see Minna safe, if only there were no interruption.

The officials came to examine tickets, then others to see the baggage, and still all was going well. We had no baggage, of course, and sat watching the different effects which that most irritating process of examination produced upon the tempers of our fellow-travellers.

As the time slipped away I fast grew easier in mind, and I joined with Minna in laughing at one or two comical incidents. But my laughter died away as I saw a couple of officials walking slowly along the train, scrutinizing closely all who were in the carriages.

On catching sight of me one of the men started, and drew the attention of a companion, who looked quickly in my direction, and then referred to some papers. The papers seemed to satisfy him, for he called up a couple of men, and all four came to our carriage.

"Something is wrong," I whispered to Minna. "Be on your guard."

"Pardon me, sir," said the man, bowing, "but I think you are the Prince von Gramberg, and this lady is the Countess Minna von Gramberg?"

"Yes. What do you want?" I replied.

"I am sorry to incommode your Highness, but may I ask you to alight for a moment?"

"How much time is there before the train starts?" I asked sharply.

"There will be plenty of time. Will you come to the waiting-room, and you, madam, as well, if you please?"

"No, I will not," I answered firmly. "If you have anything to say to me, say it here. What is it?"

"I regret that my instructions are to detain your Highness."

"Let me see your instructions."

"Pardon me, I am not at liberty to show them. But I trust you will make this repugnant duty as little unpleasant as possible. It is inevitable," and a glance at the men around him emphasized his meaning.

"Where are your instructions from? At whose instigation is this unwarrantable liberty taken with us?" I asked, with as grand an air as I could assume.

"I can say no more now than that you must really do what I wish. You will surely see the uselessness of resistance."

His tone changed slightly, and he showed a little more authority.

Minna had turned very pale, and sat trembling.

"We had better go," she said in reply to a glance from me.

"I comply—under protest, mind," I said to the official. "I shall hold you responsible for this outrage."

He spread out his hands and shrugged his shoulders by way of reply; and, when we left the carriage, he and his men walked on each side of us to the waiting-room. He came in alone with us, signing to the others to stay outside, and he gave utterance to the most voluble apologies for his unpleasant duty.

At that moment the whistle sounded, and the train started.

"You said there was plenty of time for this to be explained before the train went," I cried angrily.

"Before your train, your Highness; and, besides, I wished to avoid any scene. But I am pained to say you must consider yourselves under arrest, and must be prepared to return to Munich by the first available train."

AN OLD ENEMY

I saw at once it would be hopeless to attempt any resistance to this new development. My first feeling was one of bitter chagrin and exasperation, mingled with genuine alarm for the consequences to Minna. Who had dealt the blow, and for what object? I knew that I had rendered myself liable to arrest and prosecution for my impersonation of the Prince von Gramberg, although, despite what Baron Heckscher had said, I could not understand who would attempt to set the law in motion.

But with Minna it was very different. It was certain that the conspiracy with which she had nominally been concerned might carry very ugly consequences; but, at the worst, any such act would constitute only a political offence against the Bavarian laws, and I did not think that outside Bavaria she could be touched. But we had long passed that frontier safely. Whose hand, then, was this?

I recalled, with something of a shudder, the news which Major Gessler had told me, to the effect that von Augener had gone to Munich, and I saw that, if our arrest was made at his instigation, the results might be even more serious than I had anticipated.

"I have no intention to offer resistance to this step," I said after a pause of thought; "but, of course, you must satisfy me of your authority for it."

"I am the chief of the police here," replied the official, "and hold full instructions—very full instructions indeed, and very urgent ones. The case is a very exceptional one."

"But surely you can tell me the nature of the charge for which you say I am to consider myself under arrest?"

"Under ordinary circumstances I could and should, of course, do so; but not in this. I trust you will understand my position."

"You have performed an unpleasant task very tactfully. But can you tell me no more than you have—if not officially, then as a matter of courtesy?"

"We are not allowed much latitude for courtesy, I fear, your Highness; but I may tell you privately that I have not been informed of any charge against you. My instructions are merely to prevent your crossing the frontier should you attempt to do so, and to see that you return to Munich; and these instructions, which came first from Munich, have been repeated as urgent from Berlin."

"I need no more than that, and will not mention that you told me. We will return to Munich, Minna," I said, turning to her.

There was an hour to wait for the train, the man told me, and we filled up the time by getting some supper. It was a doleful enough meal. The police official did his best to make the fact that we were under arrest as little obvious as possible; but it was plain to me that we were kept under the strictest surveillance.

"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 reassure 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 pass, 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 associations 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 gratitude 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 God, 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 anticipated, 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."

"I will send you to a police cell to learn manners," he cried.

"As you please. I would rather sit in a jail than stand to be hectored by you," and I smiled and shrugged my shoulders.

Like my voice, the smile appeared to set his wits gleaning for the facts that would piece together the puzzle my voice and gesture had set him.

For a moment he seemed as if he would carry out his threat; but I judged he would be much more eager to learn what I knew of the conspiracy than to stickle over the question whether I sat or stood in his presence. And so it proved.

"You still dare to carry things with a high hand, even with me?"

"On the contrary, I am here for the express purpose of discussing the whole of this affair with you in its new light. But I tell you at the outset that if you think to frighten me with threats or to treat me as what you call a prisoner, with the meaning your accent gives to the term, you will get nothing from the interview."

"We shall see," he said grimly; but he said no more about my standing up.

A long pause followed, in which I saw him look several times at me with obvious doubt and interest; and I knew by these glances that he was trying hard to place me in his memory and failing.

"Now, sir," he said at length in a quick, sharp tone. "Who are you?"

"At present I am generally known as the Prince von Gramberg—but that is not my real name."

"A needless addition. What is your real name? Who were you before you were known as Heinrich Fischer, the actor at Frankfort? I warn you to speak freely. Your only hope lies in that."

"For the present I prefer not to tell you," I answered very quietly. "It does not concern this matter—in its present stage, that is."

"You refuse to tell me?"

"If you put it so, I refuse to tell you."

"What was your object in usurping the character of the Prince von Gramberg?"

"I was forced by a series of blunders on the part of others to take the position; it was done by the desire of the real heir of the Prince, Hans von Fromberg, who is now known as Henri Frombe; and I kept up the part in order to protect the Countess Minna from a foul conspiracy against her, in which a scoundrel who is now dead was one of the chief agents." And then I told him at considerable length the exact circumstances under which I had first been taken to Gramberg by von Krugen and Steinitz. "You can easily verify what I say," I added.

"You mean by those two men who have since been your tools in the affair?" he sneered.

"I mean by finding the real von Fromberg and questioning him."

Despite his sneer I could see that the story impressed him; and he put a number of questions to test its consistency and truth.

"You don't attempt to deny, then, that you were willing to continue the impersonation of the late Prince and to accept the inheritance?"

"There were no gains in what you call the inheritance. The only inheritance was the castle of Gramberg itself, mortgaged for a great deal more than its value. Scarcely a valuable prize for such an adventurer as men appear to have described me to you. I have my own private fortune—a large one."

"There was something else at the castle besides a mortgage," he sneered.

"Indeed there was," I replied quickly, purposely misunderstanding him. "There was a mess of intrigue and treachery against the Countess Minna."

"And you were the cavalier to save her from it—and for yourself."

The gibe made my blood boil.

"That is the sneer of a coward," I cried hotly. "And if that is to be the tone in which you dare to address me, I decline to say another word or to remain in your presence. I am prepared to tell you the whole truth, and to lay bare every word, motive, and act of mine throughout; but I will not allow you or any man to insult me in that coarse and brutal fashion."

He laughed coldly.

"You use bold terms," he said.

"I will back them with acts. Unless you pledge yourself to abstain from further insults, you can send me to jail or to hell itself before I'll remain here."

"I'm not accustomed to make compacts with prisoners."

"Nor I to hold converse with bullies who forget themselves!" I cried, all my old hate of the man fired by his manner and words.

I got up and turned to the door.

"Come back at once, sir," he thundered. "If you dare to attempt to leave this room you go straight to a prison."

"Rather there than here." I flung the words at him over my shoulder, and went on toward the door.

He struck the bell on his table sharply, and the door opened as I neared it to admit two men in uniform.

"Will you return here?" he called to me.

"No, not without a pledge that you cease to insult me."

"Detain that man," he cried to the others, who came and stood on either side of me, and laid their hands on my shoulders.

I stood with my back to the table.

"Face him round," he ordered, his voice thick with anger.

The men forced me to turn round.

"Now, sir, I give you a last chance," he cried, pointing his finger at me and shaking it menacingly.

"I don't accept it," I answered recklessly. "I've had enough of this Inquisition process. I will have a public trial. I am not ashamed of what I have done; but I should be ashamed of myself if I stayed here to be bullied and browbeaten and insulted and sneered at by you. Do what you like."

My recklessness was a factor on which he had not calculated, and I could tell by his indecision how it perplexed him. Without my version of the plot he could not hope to get a full grasp of the facts, and I reckoned that in an affair of such real State importance he would be altogether unwilling to have any public trial.

"Leave us a moment," he said to the men; and when they had gone he asked, "Do you mean to persist in this obstinacy?"

"'Obstinacy!' Is that what you call my refusal to be a stalking-horse for your ill-conditioned flouts and gibes, after you have had me dragged three hundred or four hundred miles, and hauled in here that you may treat me like a dog or a thief, without even telling me the charge preferred against me? If that be obstinacy, then indeed I am obstinate, and shall remain so. But I will do more than that. I will appeal to the Emperor himself, and tell him the story to which you have refused a courteous ear."

"The Emperor does not concern himself with the private offences of every nameless adventurer in his empire."

"I am no nameless adventurer. I bear a name——"

I stopped, checked by the cold, steely glance of his eye.

"What name is that? Or what do you say it is?" he asked when I paused.

"I decline to tell you;" and with that I turned on my heel and walked to the back door.

Again the bell was rung, and the two men entered.

"Detain the prisoner in the ante-room," cried von Augener peremptorily; "and send the chief of the police to me at once. I'll find a way to make you talk," he added angrily to me.

I was led out into the ante-room, and the men mounted guard over me, the rest of those present, who were lolling and chatting idly, staring at me with some curiosity. I cared nothing. My temper was still excited, and my pulses throbbing with anger, as I sat paying scant heed to what went on around me.

Suddenly there came a change. Every man in the room leapt to his feet and stood rigid at attention. A strong, firm, somewhat harsh voice was heard, which I knew well; and, like the rest, I rose instinctively as I saw the Emperor enter the room, followed by two officers of his suite. A single, hurried, sweeping glance of his appeared to notice everything in the place, and after a rapid, lightning look in my direction, the eyes dwelling on my face for one second, he passed through the door and entered the room which I had just left. When I resumed my seat my heart was beating fast, no longer with anger against von Augener, but with the thought of meeting again under such altered circumstances the powerful and remarkable monarch who, as a Prince, had been my intimate companion. I hoped and more than half believed that he had come so that he might be present at my examination. I guessed he would have been told the hour fixed for it, and, let the risks be what they might, I resolved that the opportunity should not pass, if I could possibly help it, without my obtaining an audience. I would put everything to the hazard in order to lay before him directly the true story of the plot from Minna's point of view, and I would back my statement with an avowal of my identity. A quarter of an hour later the door was opened again—and how anxiously I had kept my eyes glued to it may be imagined—and I was ordered to return alone into the room. My excitement, as I rose to obey, was so intense and unnerving that it was all I could do to command myself sufficiently to be able to walk steadily into the presence.

THE EMPEROR

When I entered the room the second time, old von Augener was still sitting at the table, and the Emperor was standing at one of the windows, his stern, strong profile showing to me clear cut and hard against the light. I halted just inside the door, and stood gazing at him. I was in a sense half fascinated by the crowd of emotions which his presence roused. To me he was still what he had always been—the type of much that is best and highest in mankind, while his actual greatness and nobility were magnified many times by the glamour of my old personal affection for him. Had he known who I was, what, I wondered, would have been the manner of my reception? As I entered the room the two members of the suite left it, and we three—the Emperor, von Augener, and I—were left alone. Ignorant though the harsh old man was of my identity, yet the hate and hostility which he had felt for me originally appeared to motive him now, for he scowled to the full as angrily as on that day when he had come to my cabin to pass the virtual sentence of death upon me.

"Now," he called suddenly, with a sharp, rasping jerk of his voice, for he saw that my eyes were fixed on the Emperor, "stand here, if you please," and he pointed to a spot in front of his table. "You refused to speak a few minutes since, and to tell me what you know of this matter. Perhaps you will do so now since his Majesty has graciously vouchsafed to give you another chance."

The harshness of his manner did more than anything else could have done to collect my somewhat scrambled wits.

"I did not refuse to say what I knew—I refused to submit to insinuations that were insulting to me. I told you that if you would question me without insult I would reply. I am only too anxious to make known every fact in my possession, and it was my intention to solicit an audience of his Majesty for that purpose."

The old bully listened with very ill grace to this, and would have frowned me down had he dared; but I was not to be stopped by him.

"You have told me how you went to Gramberg, and you allege that you remained there to protect the Countess Minna from a plot against her. How came you as a stranger to know anything about such a plot?"

"I was told that the Count von Nauheim was the acknowledged representative of a powerful section of the Gramberg supporters here in Munich, and that it was a part of the compact that he should have the countess as his wife; the alleged reason being the desire to secure to that section a direct share of the influence which the throne would naturally wield. As I knew that the count was already married, and a man of the vilest and most infamous character, the inference of treachery lay on the surface."

"The inference might affect the man himself, but how do you know that others were aware of his character?"

"The fact itself was a sufficient motive to induce me to try and save the girl from such a man—the proofs that others were concerned with him came afterward and gradually."

"What proofs?"

"That von Nauheim, at the instigation of others, had virtually murdered the Countess Minna's brother at the moment when a former plot was rife to carry the throne and put the Count Gustav upon it. The murder was in this wise;" and I told the story of Praga's duel.

As I spoke, unfolding the story gradually and with such skill as I had at command, I saw the face by the window growing darker and gloomier and sterner every minute.

"There is a nest of vermin here that needs clearing out," exclaimed von Augener at the close. "How do you know all this?"

"From Praga himself, who extorted the confession of the whole plot from von Nauheim both in writing and afterward in the presence of the Countess Minna and myself. Praga was himself attacked in turn by the agents of these men, because he had refused to do what they wished—to murder me. By a lucky stroke of fortune, it was I who chanced to come to his help."

"What attempts have been made on you, and, in your opinion, why?"

For answer I described the means by which I had at the meeting managed to make my life necessary for the carrying on of their scheme.

"There was a plot within a plot," I said—"an open plot, of which the securing of the crown for the Countess Minna was the object ostensibly; and a secret one, which aimed at her ruin, to make her unfit to become Queen by mating her with a man already married, or to ruin her by putting her into his power for an object infinitely more foul and vile. It was against that I had to fight, and to fight almost single-handed;" and I went on to describe at length many of the incidents of the past few weeks.

"Why did you not come to Berlin, sir?"

The question came from the Emperor, who wheeled round on me as if clinching an accusation, while he stared fixedly at me, those searching, piercing, wonderful eyes of his boring into my head.

"You would have spared us all this trouble."

"I should have spared myself also the humiliation of having no sufficient answer to your Majesty's question," was my reply. "I see it now. My motive was that I feared the enmity of the Ostenburg family would reach the Countess Minna wherever she might be. I was told, and believed that indeed, that they would suffer no Gramberg rival for the throne to remain alive and at liberty. I knew that they had compassed the death of the brother and had plotted a dishonor worse than death against the countess herself, and I believed there were no limits to their venom and hostility."

"But how could you hope to save her by allowing things to go on?" he asked again after a pause in the same sharp, indicting tone.

"I thought I had devised a scheme by which I could put the countess in a position of such strength that she could dictate virtually her own terms, and so secure that liberty which I feared they would never otherwise concede. My plan was to allow the conspiracy to go forward for putting the countess upon the throne, to postpone the marriage with von Nauheim, and then to watch for and thwart the attempt I knew would be made to get her into their power; and at the same time to deliver a counter-blow and to get the Ostenburg heir, the Duke Marx, into my own hands. I calculated that then I could make my own terms in the countess's interests."

"'Fore Heaven, sir, you don't lack daring to play fast and loose with thrones in this way," cried von Augener; while the Emperor stood sternly silent, revolving what I had said.

"Tell me the rest," he said abruptly.

"My scheme broke in my hands, because I was myself betrayed to them. The Baron Heckscher succeeded in gaining information of my plans, or rather of that part of them which I had made for the safe-keeping of the countess, and he outwitted me at the last moment," and I described the whole ruse by which Minna had been carried off at the ball and Clara Weylin put in her place.

The story was interesting enough to them, and both listened closely. When I ended, von Augener bent to read some of the papers on his desk, in order, as I saw, to compare what I had told him with what had been previously reported to him.

But the Kaiser needed no notes; that extraordinary memory of his carried every detail, item, and particular, and as I was telling him my version he was comparing it link for link with what he already knew, in a process of subtle mental analysis.

"And your next step?" he asked sharply after a short pause.

"To make my possession of the Duke Marx perfectly secure, and then to warn Baron Heckscher that I held the duke as a hostage for the safety of the countess."

"Do you mean to admit that you openly threatened to use violence on the person of the duke, the heir to the throne?" asked von Augener, as if aghast at my temerity in venturing on such a confession.

"I threatened it, and I meant it too," I replied, in a voice firm enough to prove that I was in earnest.

"You can see the heinousness of that offence?"

"It was not a tenth part so bad as the offences of the Ostenburg party. They had actually murdered one heir and threatened another. I had chosen a course and was compelled to carry it out my own way. But I knew the baron would never drive me to an extreme step of that kind. While I held the duke in pawn the baron was helpless and had no option but to yield to me. And this I made him understand," and with that I gave them a full report of my last interview with Baron Heckscher, and of the compact we then made—that Minna should be given up to me and the Duke Marx set at liberty, the condition being that the former should go away and leave the latter at liberty to come forward when called to the throne, and that there should be a subsequent definite renunciation by Minna of all claim to the crown.

"A pretty ring of king-makers, indeed!" exclaimed von Augener.

"And that 'compact,' as you term it, was carried out?" asked the Emperor.

"Yes, sire. But everything was jeopardized at the eleventh hour by the villany of the man von Nauheim, who made a bold effort to break away with the countess, having as his confederate her aunt, the Baroness Gratz."

"You scatter your charges with a free hand, young man. Every one appears to be a rogue but yourself," ejaculated von Augener, whose malice apparently prompted him to see and put my conduct in the worst light.

The Emperor lifted a protesting hand, however.

"Tell your tale," he said, addressing me curtly.

"Every word I say can be tested by independent inquiry," I answered. "These people are accused not by my words, but by their own acts."

I described then my journey to Landsberg and what had happened there, though I said nothing of the love scenes.

"And by that time, I suppose, you thought you had done enough to warrant you in running off with the countess herself?" said old von Augener.

I made no reply, but kept my face as though he had not spoken.

"How came you to attempt to fly the country?" asked the Emperor.

"I was not attempting to fly the country, sire," I replied readily. "I had told the countess of the interview with Baron Heckscher, and my advice to her was that she should put the frontier between her and the enemies who had betrayed and persecuted her with such virulence. I was taking her to Charmes, to the care of the man in whose place I stood, Herr von Fromberg, now known as M. Henri Frombe; and I had told her that I should immediately return either here or to Berlin to lay her case before your Majesty, that her interests might be secured and herself protected from further violence."

"But you kept up your personation of the Prince," cried von Augener, seeing another point to be scored against me.

"I deemed that a necessary step until all could be explained. The countess was left at Landsberg without a friend to whom she could turn. The Baroness Gratz, who should have protected her, had first betrayed her to Baron Heckscher, and then connived at von Nauheim stealing away with her from Landsberg. What then was I to do? I had explained to her that I was not the Prince, and it seemed that my only possible course was to take her to where she would at least be in the care of a relative, and, as I judged, safe. What else should I have done?"

"Is that all you have to say of your part in the plot?"

The question came from the Emperor as sharply as a pistol shot.

"I think I have told your Majesty everything of my share in it."

"You haven't told us what you hoped to gain by your work," said the vindictive old man, ruthless in his desire to injure me. "But I suppose it's no use to ask that," he added—this with a shrug of the shoulders, as if to suggest that I was no better than a paltry, unreliable rascal, who would tell any tale and any lie to serve his own ends.

I let the sneer pass unheeded.

"Could you form any opinion of the state of feeling in Munich or in the kingdom?" was the Emperor's next question.

"I know but little of either Munich or Bavaria, sire. The men I came in contact with were certainly men of influence, and as certainly were moved by feelings of deep resentment against the conduct of the King, his extravagance in particular. But I was planning for the Countess Minna's safety, and not probing Bavarian politics."

The Kaiser's face gave no indication of the impression which my words created, and after a moment's thought he dismissed that part of the matter with a sentence, and turned to another.

"You will write out a list of all the men whom you met. And now, what of the Countess Minna? Speak as plainly of her part as you have of your own."

The last words were welcome indeed. Like the wave of a brush, they wiped out the sneers of von Augener, and showed me they had produced no effect.

"I thank you, sire," I answered, my pulse quickening. "The countess has had no part or lot in all this, save that of passive acquiescence in my suggestions. She was against the scheme when her brother was the claimant for the throne; she remained hostile to it when he had been killed; and when the Prince, her father, died, she was resolute never under any circumstances to consent to take the crown. It was only the knowledge that her own personal safety was imperilled, and the belief that by this apparent agreement with the scheme she could best secure that safety, which induced her to consent—to even appear to consent—to any such plot being carried on in her name. For that belief I myself accept the responsibility. She left it to me to select the best road to safety, and she is as innocent as any unborn babe of even an intention to conspire against the King."