But "Willie" was not to be caught like that. He merely replied:
"Well—something which must at all hazards be concealed. How this Spaniard can know I cannot in the least imagine—unless that woman gave me away!"
For the next two days I was mostly out with his Highness in the car, and in addition the Kaiserreviewed the Prussian Guard, a ceremony which always gave me much extra work.
On the third day I had in the morning been out to the Wildpark Station, and, passing the sentries, had re-entered the Palace, when one of the footmen approached me, saying:
"Pardon, Count, but there is a gentleman to see his Imperial Highness. He will give no name, and refuses to leave. I called the captain of the guard, who has interrogated him, and he has been put into the blue ante-room until your return."
At that moment I saw the captain of the guard striding down the corridor towards me.
"A bald-headed man is here to see His Highness, and will give no name," he told me. "He is waiting now. Will you see him?"
"No," I said, my suspicions aroused. "I will first see the Crown-Prince."
After some search I found the latter lolling at his ease in his own smoking-room in the private apartments, reading a French novel and consuming cigarettes.
"Hulloa, Heltzendorff! Well, what's the trouble?" he asked. "I see something is wrong from your face."
"The man Aranda is here," I replied.
"Here!" he gasped, starting up and flinging the book aside. "Who let him in?"
"I don't know, but he is below demanding to see you."
"Has he made any statement? Has he told anybody what he knows?" demanded the Crown-Prince, who at that moment presented what might be termed a white-livered appearance, cowed, and even trembling. In his slant eyes showed a look of undisguised terror, and I realized that the truth, whatever it might be, was a damning and most disgraceful one.
"I can't see him, Heltzendorff," he whined to me."See him; hear what he has to say—and—and you will keep my secret? Promise me."
I promised. And I should have kept that promise were it not for his brutal and blackguardly acts after the outbreak of war—acts which placed him, with his Imperial father, beyond the pale of respectable society.
I was turning to leave the room, when he sprang towards me with that quick agility of his, and, placing his white, manicured hand upon my arm, said:
"Whatever he may say you will not believe—will you?"
"And if he wants money?" I asked.
"Ascertain the amount, and come here to me."
A quarter of an hour later Martinez Aranda sat in my room opposite my table. I had told him that unfortunately His Imperial Highness was engaged, for the Emperor had come over from the Neues Palace for luncheon. Then I inquired the nature of his business.
"Well, Count, you and I are not altogether strangers, are we?" was his reply, as he sat back calmly and crossed his legs, perfectly at his ease. "But my business is only with His Highness, and with nobody else."
"His Highness sees nobody upon business. I am appointed to deal with all his business affairs, and anything told to me is the same as though spoken into his ear."
The Spaniard from Montmartre was silent for a moment.
"If that is the case, then I would be glad if you will obtain his permission for me to speak. He will remember my name."
"I already received orders before I invited you up," I said. "His Highness wishes you to deal with me. He knows that you are here to settle some delicate little piece of business concerning that secret visit of his to Rome—eh?"
"Yes," he answered, after a few seconds' pause. "I am well aware, Count, that for mention of the reason I am here you might call the guard to arrest me for blackmail. But first let me assure His Highness that such action would not be advisable in the interests of either himself or of the Emperor. I have already made arrangements for exposure in case His Highness endeavours to close my mouth by such means."
"Good. We understand each other. What is your complaint?" I inquired.
"I know the truth concerning the mysterious death of the woman, Claudia Ferrona, in Rome last December," he said briefly.
"Oh!" I exclaimed. "Perhaps you will tell me next that the Crown-Prince is an assassin? Come, that will be really interesting," I laughed. "Perhaps you will tell me how it all happened—the extent of your knowledge."
"Why should I do that? Go to the Crown-Prince and tell him what I allege—tell him that the girl, Lizette Sabin, whom he knows, was a witness."
"Well, let us come to business," I said. "How much do you want for your silence?"
"I want nothing—not a sou!" was the hard reply. "All I want is to reveal to the Emperor that his son is responsible for a woman's death. And that is what I intend doing. You hear that! Well, Count von Heltzendorff, please go and tell him so."
Quickly realizing the extreme gravity of the situation, I returned to the Crown-Prince and told him the startling allegation made against him.
His face went as white as paper.
"We must pay the fellow off. Close his mouth somehow. Help me, Heltzendorff," he implored. "What can I do? He must not reveal the truth to the Emperor!"
"Then it really is the truth!" I exclaimed, astounded.
The Crown-Prince hung his head, and in a low, hoarse voice replied:
"It is my accursed luck! The woman must have told the truth to this scoundrel of a Spaniard before—before she died!"
"And Lizette?" I asked. "She is a witness, the fellow says."
"No, no!" cried His Highness wildly, covering his white face with his hands as though to hide the guilt written upon his countenance. "Say no more! Ask the fellow's price, and pay him. We must not allow him to go to the Emperor."
Three minutes later I went back to my room, but it was empty. The Spaniard had walked out, and would, no doubt, be wandering somewhere in the private apartments.
At that instant the telephone rang, and, answering it, I heard that His Majesty had just arrived by car, and was on his way up to the room wherein I stood—the room in which he generally met his son.
For a moment I was perplexed, but a few seconds later I held my breath when I saw coming down the corridor the Emperor, and walking with him the adventurer, who had apparently met him on his way downstairs.
I confess that at that most dramatic moment I was entirely nonplussed. I saw how cleverly Aranda had timed his visit, and how, by some means, he knew of the internal arrangements of the Marmor Palace.
"Yes," the Emperor exclaimed to the Spaniard. "You wish to have audience. Well?"
In a second I broke in.
"May I be permitted to say a word, Your Majesty?" I said. "There is a little business matter pending between this gentleman and His Imperial Highness the Crown-Prince—a little dispute over money. I regret that Your Majesty should be disturbed by it. The matter is in course of settlement."
"Oh, money matters!" exclaimed the Emperor, who always hated mention of them, believing himself to be far too important a person to trouble about them. "Of course, you will see to a settlement, Count." And the Emperor turned his back deliberately upon the man who accosted him.
"It is not money that I want," shouted the adventurer from Paris, "but I——"
I did not allow him to conclude his sentence, but hustled him into an adjoining room, closing the door after him.
"Now, Monsieur Aranda, you want money, I know. How much?" I asked determinedly.
"Two hundred thousand marks," was his prompt reply, "and also fifty thousand for Lola."
I pretended to reflect. He saw my hesitation, and then added:
"For that sum, and not a sou less, I am prepared to sign a statement that I have lied, and that there is no truth in the allegation."
"Of what? Tell me the facts, as you know them, and I will then repeat them to His Imperial Highness."
For a few seconds he was silent, then in a cold, hard voice he revealed to me what was evidently the truth of the Crown-Prince's secret visit to Rome. I listened to his statement utterly dumbfounded.
The allegations were terrible. It seemed that a popular Spanish variety actress, whom the populace of Rome knew as "La Bella," but whose real name was Claudia Ferrona, lived in a pretty apartment on the Lungtevere Mellini, facing the Tiber. His Highness had met her in Coblenz, where she had been singing. "La Bella" had as her particular friend a certain high official in the Italian Ministry of War, and through him she was enabled to furnish the Crown-Prince with certain important information. The General Staff in the Wilhelmstrasse were eager to obtain some very definite facts regarding Italy's newarmaments, and His Highness had taken upon himself the task of obtaining it.
As Herr Nebelthau he went in secret to Rome as guest of the vivacious Claudia, whose maid was none other than the thief-girl of the Montmartre, Lizette Sabin. This girl, whose intellect had become weakened, was entirely under the influence of the clever adventurer Aranda. On the second night after the arrival of the Crown-Prince in Rome, he and the actress had taken supper together in her apartment, after which a fierce quarrel had arisen between them.
Seized by a fit of remorse, the variety singer blankly refused to further betray the man to whom her advancement in her profession was due, whereupon His Highness grew furious at being thwarted at the last moment. After listening to his insults, "La Bella" openly declared that she intended to reveal the whole truth to the Italian official in question. Then the Crown-Prince became seized by one of those mad, frenzied fits of uncontrollable anger to which he is at times, like all the Hohenzollerns, subject, and with his innate brutality he took up a bottle from the table and struck the poor girl heavily upon the skull, felling her like a log. Afterwards with an imprecation on his lips, he walked out. So terribly injured was the girl that she expired just before noon next day. Not, however, before she had related the whole circumstances to the maid, Lizette, and to the man Aranda, who, truth to tell, had placed the maid in the actress's service with a view of robbing her of her jewels. He saw, however, that, with the death of Claudia Ferrona, blackmail would be much more profitable.
Having heard this amazing story, I was careful to lock the Spaniard in the room, and then returned to where the Crown-Prince was so anxiously awaiting me.
Half an hour later the adventurer left the Palace, bearing in his pocket a draft upon the private bankinghouse of Mendelsohn, in the Jägerstrasse in Berlin, for two hundred and fifty thousand marks.
In return for that draft the wily Spaniard signed a declaration that he had invented the whole story, and that there was not a word of truth in it.
It was only, however, when I placed that document into the hands of the Crown-Prince that His Imperial Highness breathed freely again.
It was five o'clock on a bright September morning when His Imperial Highness climbed with unsteady gait the three flights of stairs leading to the handsome flat which he sometimes rented in a big block of buildings half-way along Jermyn Street when he made secret visits to London.
As his personal-adjutant and keeper of his secrets I had been awaiting him for hours.
I heard him fumbling with the latch-key, and, rising, went along the hall and opened the door.
"Hulloa, Heltzendorff!" he exclaimed in a thick, husky voice. "Himmel!I'm very glad to be back."
"And I am glad to see Your Highness back," I said. "I was beginning to fear that something unpleasant had happened. I tell you frankly, I do not like you going out like this alone in London. Somebody is certain to discover you one day."
"Oh, bosh! my dear Heltzendorff. You are just like a pastor—always preaching." And as he tossed his crush hat upon the table and divested himself of his evening overcoat he gave vent to a half-drunken laugh, and then, just as he was, in his dress-coat and crumpled shirt-front, with the stains ofovernight wine upon it, he curled himself upon the couch, saying:
"Tell that idiot of a valet not to disturb me. I'm tired."
"But don't you think you ought to go to bed?" I queried.
"Too tired to undress, Heltzendorff—too tired," he declared with an inane grin. "Oh, I've had a time—phew! my head—such a time! Oh, old Lung Ching is a real old sport!"
And then he settled himself and closed his eyes—surely a fine spectacle for the German nation if he could then have been publicly exhibited.
His mention of Lung Ching caused me to hold my breath. That wily Chinaman kept an establishment in the underworld of Limehouse, an opium den of the worst description, frequented by yellow men and white women of the most debased class.
A year before one of the Crown-Prince's friends, an attaché at the Embassy on Carlton House Terrace, had introduced him to the place. The fascinations of the opium pipe had attracted him, and he had been there many times to smoke and to dream, but always accompanied by others. The night before, however, he had declared his intention to go out alone, as he had been invited to dine by a great German financier living in Park Lane. It was now evident, however, that he had not been there, but had gone alone to that terrible den kept by Lung Ching.
There, in the grey light of dawn, I stood gazing down upon the be-drugged son of the Emperor, feeling relief that he was back again, and that no trouble had resulted from his escapade.
I called the valet, and, having handed his master over to him, I went out, and, finding a taxi, drove out to Lung Ching's place in Limehouse. I knew the sign, and was soon admitted into the close, sickly-smelling place, which reeked with opium. The villainous Chinaman, with a face like parchment,came forward, and instantly recognized me as the companion of the young German millionaire, Herr Lehnhardt. Of him I inquired what my master had been doing during the night.
"Oh, 'e smoke—'e likee pipee!" was the evil, yellow-faced ruffian's reply.
"Was he alone?"
"Oh, no. 'E no alonee. 'E lil ladee," and he grinned. "She likee pipee. Come, you see—eh?"
The fellow took me into the long, low-ceilinged room, fitted with bunks, in which were a dozen or so sleeping Chinamen. Suddenly he indicated a bunk wherein lay a girl huddled up—a well-dressed English girl. Her hat and jacket had been removed, and she lay, her face full in the light, her arm above her head, her eyes closed in sound slumber, with the deadly pipe beside her.
I bent to examine her pale countenance more closely. I started. Yes! I had not been mistaken. She was the young daughter of one of the best-known and most popular leaders of London society.
I had no idea until that moment that she and the Crown-Prince were such friends. A fortnight before the Crown-Prince, as Herr Lehnhardt, had attended a gay river party at Henley, and I had accompanied him. At the party the pair had been introduced in my presence. And now, within those few days, I found her oblivious to the world in the worst opium den in London!
After considerable effort, I aroused her. But she was still dazed from the effect of the drug, so dazed, indeed, that she did not recognize me. However, I got her into a taxi, and having ascertained her mother's address from the "Royal Blue Book" in the London club of which I was a member, and where I arrived at an unearthly hour, I took her to Upper Brocklion Street.
Of the woman who opened the door I learned, tomy relief, that the family were at their place in Scotland, and that the house, enshrouded in dust-sheets, was in the hands of herself and her husband as caretakers.
When I half lifted the young lady—whom I will here call Miss Violet Hewitt for the sake of the good name of her family—out of the taxi the woman became greatly alarmed. But I assured her there was nothing wrong; her young mistress had been taken ill, but was now much better. A doctor was not needed.
For half an hour I remained there with her, and then, as she had recovered sufficiently, I rose to go, intending to let her make her own explanations to the caretaker.
We were alone, and she was seated in a big arm-chair. She saw my intention to leave, whereupon she struggled to her feet, for she now realized to her horror what had occurred.
"You are Count von Heltzendorff!" she exclaimed, passing her hand across her brow, as though suddenly recollecting. "We met at Henley. Ah! I know I—I can't help it. I have been very foolish—but I can't help it. The craving grows upon me."
"You met my friend Lehnhardt last night, did you not?"
"Yes, I did. Quite accidentally. I was waiting in the lounge of the 'Ritz' for a man-friend with whom I had promised to dine when Mr. Lehnhardt came in and recognized me. My friend had not turned up, so I accepted his invitation to have dinner at Claridge's. This we did, and during the meal he spoke of opium, and I admitted that I was fond of it, for I smoke it sometimes at a girl-friend's at Hampstead. Therefore we agreed to go together to Lung Ching's."
"He left you there," I said.
"I know. I certainly did not expect him to goaway and leave me in such a place," said the girl, who was very pretty and not more than twenty, even though addicted to the terrible opium habit. "But," she added, "you will keep my secret—won't you?"
"Most certainly, Miss Hewitt," was my reply. "This should serve as a severe lesson to you."
Then I bade her farewell, and left her in the good hands of the caretaker.
On my return to Jermyn Street the Crown-Prince was in bed, sleeping soundly.
I remember standing at the window of that well-furnished bachelor's sitting-room—for the place was owned by an old German-American merchant, who, I expect, had a shrewd suspicion of the identity of the reckless young fellow named Lehnhardt who sometimes, through a well-known firm of house-agents, rented his quarters at a high figure. The Crown-Prince used eight different names when abroad incognito, Lehnhardt being one of them.
"His Highness is very tired," the valet declared to me, as he entered the room. "Before I got him to bed he asked for you. I said you had gone out."
"And what did he say?"
"Well, Count, all he said was, 'Ah, our dear Heltzendorff is always an early riser. He gets up before I go to bed!'" And the ever-faithful valet laughed grimly. When the Crown-Prince went upon those frequent debauches in the capitals of Europe, his valet always carried with him a certain drug, a secret known to the Chinese, an injection of which at once sobered him, and put both sense and dignity into him. I have seen him in the most extreme state of helpless intoxication at five in the morning, and yet at eight, he having received his injection, I have watched him mount his horse and ride at the head of his regiment to an inspection, as bright and level-headed as any trooper following.
The drug had a marvellous and almost instantaneous effect. But it was used only in case of great emergency, when, for instance, he was suddenly summoned by the Emperor, or perchance he had to accompany his wife to some public function.
That the drug had bad effects I knew quite well. I have often seen him pacing the room holding his hands to his head, when, three hours later, the dope was gradually losing its potency, leaving him inert and ill.
When the valet had retired, I stood gazing down into the growing life of Jermyn Street, deploring the state of society which had resulted in the pretty Violet Hewitt becoming, at twenty, a victim to opium.
Truly in the world of London, as in Berlin, there are many strange phases of life, and even I, familiar as I was with the gaieties of the capitals, and the night life of Berlin, the Montmartre in Paris, and the West End in London, here confess that when I discovered the pretty girl sleeping in that dirty bunk in that fetid atmosphere I was staggered.
Before three o'clock in the afternoon "Willie" reappeared, well groomed and perfectly dressed. I had been out lunching at the "Berkeley" with a friend, and on re-entering the chambers, found him in the sitting-room smoking a cigarette.
The effects of his overnight dissipation had entirely passed. He seated himself upon the arm of a chair and asked:
"Well, Heltzendorff, I suppose you've been out to lunch—eh? Anything interesting in this town?"
"The usual set at the 'Berkeley,'" I replied.
"Oh! The 'Berkeley!' Very nice, but too respectable. That is where one takes one's aunt, is it not?" he laughed.
I admitted that it was a most excellent restaurant.
"Good food and good amusement, my dear Heltzendorff, one can never find together. The worsethe food the better the entertainment. Do you remember the 'Rat Mort'—eh?"
"No," I said sharply. "That is a long-past and unwelcome memory."
The Imperial profligate laughed heartily.
"Oh, my dear Heltzendorff, you are becoming quite pharisaical. You! Oh! that is really amusing!"
"The 'Rat Mort' never amused me," I said, "a café of the Montmartre where those who dined were——"
I did not finish my sentence.
"Were very pretty and interesting women, Heltzendorff," he declared. "Ah! don't you recollect when you and I dined there not long ago, all of us at a long table—so many charming ladies—oh!"
"I have forgotten it, Prince," I said, rebuking him. "It has passed from my memory. That place is just as unfitted for you as is Lung Ching's."
"Lung Ching's! Ah—yes, the old yellow fellow is a good sort," he exclaimed, as though recollecting.
"And the lady you took there—eh?"
"The lady?" he echoed. "Why,Gott!I left her there. I did not remember.Gott!I left little Miss Violet in that place!" he gasped.
"Well?" I asked.
"Well, what can I do. I must go and see."
I smiled, and then told him what I had done.
"H'm," he exclaimed. "You are always a good diplomat, Heltzendorff—always a good friend of the erratic Hohenzollerns. What can I do to-night—eh? Suggest something."
"I would suggest that you dineden familleat the Embassy," I replied.
"The Embassy! Never. I'm sick and tired of His Excellency and his hideous old wife. They bore me to death. No, my dear Heltzendorff. I wonder——"
And he paused.
"Well?" I asked.
"I wonder if Miss Hewitt would go to the theatre to-night—eh?"
"No," I snapped, for my long service gave me permission to speak my mind pretty freely. "She is, I admit, a very charming young lady, but remember she does not know your identity, and if her parents discover what happened last night there will be a most infernal lot of trouble. Recollect that her father, a financial magnate, is acquainted with the Emperor. They have raced their yachts against each other. Indeed, Henry Hewitt's won the Kiel Cup last year. So, personally, I think the game that your Imperial Highness is playing is a distinctly dangerous one."
"Bah! It is only amusement. She amuses me. And she is so fond of the pipe. She has been a visitor of Lung Ching's for over a year. She has a faithful maid who goes with her, and I suppose she pays the old Chinaman well."
"I suppose so," I remarked, for I knew that if the villainous old Ching were paid well he would guarantee her safety in that den of his.
I could see by the Crown-Prince's face that he was unimpressed by my warning. Too well did I know to what mad, impetuous lengths he would go when of a sudden a pretty face attracted him. So utterly devoid is he of self-control that a woman's eyes could lead him anywhere. A glance at that weak chin of his will at once substantiate my statement.
His visit to Lung Ching's had left him somewhat muddled and limp, and the next few days passed uneventfully. We went down into Surrey to stay with a certain Baron von Rechberg, who had been a fellow-student of His Highness's at Bonn. He was now head of a German bank in London, and lived in a beautiful house surrounded by a large park highamong the Surrey hills. Count von Hochberg, "Willie's" bosom friend, whom he always addressed as "Mickie," while the Count in turn called him "Cæsar," being in London at the time, accompanied us, and so merrily did the time pass that the incident at Lung Ching's went out of my memory.
One night when we had all three returned to London "Willie" and Von Hochberg spent the evening in the lounge of the Empire Theatre, and both returned to the Prince's rooms about one o'clock in the morning.
"Heltzendorff, Mickie is going with me to Scotland to-morrow morning," said His Highness, as he tossed his overcoat upon the couch of that luxurious little sitting-room within sight of the Maison Jules. "You will stay here and attend to anything that may come through from Potsdam. A courier should arrive to-morrow night, or is it Knof who is coming? I forget."
"Your Highness sent Knof over to get the correspondence," I reminded him, for it was necessary that all pressing matters should be attended to, or the Emperor's suspicions might be aroused that his son was absent abroad.
"Ah, the good Knof! Of course, he will be back to-morrow night. He will have seen the Princess and told her how ill I have been, and how I am gradually growing better," he laughed. "Trust Knof to tell a good, sound lie."
"All chauffeurs can do that, my dear Cæsar," exclaimed Von Hochberg, with a grin.
Naturally I was filled with wonder regarding the nature of the expedition which the pair were about to undertake, but, though we all three smoked together for an hour, "Willie" seemed unusually sober, and did not let drop a single hint regarding their mysterious destination.
Von Hochberg was living at the Coburg Hotel, and before he left "Willie" arranged to breakfast withhim at eight o'clock next morning, so that they might leave Euston together by the ten o'clock express.
I roused the valet, who worked for an hour packing His Highness's suit-case.
"One case only," the Crown-Prince had ordered. "I shall only be up there a couple or three days. No evening clothes. I shall not want them."
That remark told me that he did not intend to pay any formal visit, as he had done on most of his journeys to Scotland.
"Your Imperial Highness will take guns, of course," I remarked.
"Guns!" he echoed. "No—no guns this time. If I want to shoot rabbits I can borrow a farmer's blunderbuss," he laughed.
That "Mickie," the hare-brained seeker after pleasure, was to be his companion caused me some uneasiness. It was all very well for the Crown-Prince to live in London as Herr Lehnhardt. London was a big place, and those who catered for his Imperial pleasures were paid well, and did not seek to inquire into his antecedents or whether he was really what he represented himself to be.
Money talks in the underground London, just as it does on the Stock Exchange. But it sometimes, I assure you, took a long purse to keep the foreign papers quiet regarding the wild escapades of the Kaiser's heir.
That night somehow I felt a good deal of apprehension regarding this mysterious flying visit to Scotland. That the pair had some deeply-laid scheme on hand I knew from their evasiveness. But what it was I failed to discover.
Early that morning I put "Cæsar" into a taxi with his suit-case. He wore a rough suit of tweeds, and took with him his walking-stick and a khaki-coloured waterproof coat, presenting the picture of a young man going North to shoot.
"I'll be back in a few days, Heltzendorff. Attendto the letters," he urged. "Throw away as many as you can. If I want you I will telegraph."
And with that he drove to the "Coburg" to meet his old chum, "Mickie."
About three o'clock that same afternoon, while walking along Piccadilly, I was surprised to come face to face with Von Hochberg.
"Why! I thought you had gone North!" I exclaimed.
"No, Heltzendorff. Cæsar went alone," he replied, somewhat confounded at our unexpected meeting. "He wanted to be alone, I think."
"Where has he gone?" I inquired. "He left me no address."
"No. And I have none either," the Count replied.
This set me thinking. The situation was even worse with the Crown-Prince wandering in Scotland alone. His indiscretions were such that his identity might very easily leak out, and the truth concerning his absence would quickly reach the Emperor's ears.
As I stood chatting with His Highness's gay companion I confess that I felt annoyed at the manner in which I had been tricked. He was often afraid of my caustic tongue when I spoke of his indiscretions, and it was further quite plain to me that Von Hochberg had simply pretended that he was accompanying his friend North.
That evening Knof arrived from Potsdam with a satchelful of correspondence, and until a late hour I was kept busy inventing replies which would eventually be taken to Holzemme, in the Harz Mountains, and posted from there. We always made arrangements for such things when His Highness was secretly out of Germany.
I snatched a meal at Jules', close by, and resumed my work till long after midnight, inventing some picturesque fictions in reply to many official documents.
One letter was from Her Imperial Highness. At her husband's order I opened it, read it, and sealed it up again. It contained reproaches, but nothing of extreme urgency. There had been occasions when I had read "Cilli's" letters in the absence of her erratic husband, and sent to her little untruths by wire, signed "Wilhelm, Kronprinz."
Truly my position was one of curious intimacy. Sometimes His Highness trusted me with his innermost secrets, while at others he regarded me with distinct suspicion. That the elegant Von Hochberg knew of "Willie's" whereabouts I felt convinced, but apparently His Highness had given him orders not to divulge it to me.
The next day and the next I waited in vain for some word from His Highness. I had sent Knof back to the Harz to post the replies I had written, and with nothing to do I idled about London.
On the third day, when I returned to Jermyn Street after lunch, I found a stout German, named Henkel, who carried on a hairdresser's business near High Street, Kensington, but who was really a secret agent. He was one of the few persons who knew of the Crown-Prince's visit, for each time we came to London we took this man into our confidence.
"I have received a telegram from Holzemme, Count," he said as I entered, and then he handed me the message, which, after a few minutes' examination—for though in plain language it was nevertheless not what it purported to be—I saw to my dismay was an important message to "Willie" from the Emperor, who was at that moment in Corfu.
The message had been received by Koch, my assistant, whom I had left at Holzemme. He had disguised it and re-transmitted it to Henkel to hand to me. We always took this precaution, because when abroad incognito, both the Crown-Prince and myself frequently changed our names. So, by employing Henkel in London and a man named Behm in Paris,we were always certain of receiving any important message.
When the spy Henkel had left I stood looking out of the window down into Jermyn Street, quite at a loss how to act. The message was one of the greatest importance, and, if not replied to at once, the Emperor would, I knew, institute inquiries, for he was well aware of his son's wild escapades.
My first impulse was to wire Koch a reply to be dispatched to His Majesty, but on reflection I realized that the question was one which I could not answer with truth. No. I must find His Highness at all hazards.
At once I went to the Coburg Hotel, and fortunately found Count von Hochberg, who at first refused to reveal where his friend was hidden. But when I showed him the telegram and explained the great urgency of a reply, in order to prevent the Emperor from inquiring and knowing the truth, he realized the necessity.
"Well, Heltzendorff," he said, somewhat reluctantly, "Cæsar is at some little place they call St. Fillans, in Scotland."
"I know it," I cried eagerly. "A place at the end of Loch Earn! We motored past it one day about two years ago. I shall go North at once."
"But you can telegraph to him," the Count suggested.
"To what address?"
"Ah! Why, of course, I don't know his address—only that he is at St. Fillans. I had a note yesterday."
Travelling by way of Perth and Gleneagles, I next morning found myself strolling along the picturesque village at the end of the beautiful loch, which presented a truly delightful picture in the autumn sunlight. At the hotel nothing was known of Mr. Lehnhardt, and though I devoted the whole morning to making inquiries I could find no trace of His Highness.The latter would certainly not betray himself as a German, for, speaking English so well, he might very easily adopt an English name. I ate my lunch at the hotel which faces the loch, with Ben Voirlich rising high beyond, and afterwards resumed my wanderings. In many quarters I described my "friend" of whom I was in search, but nobody seemed to have seen him. The precious hours were flying, and I knew that the Emperor at Corfu was impatiently awaiting a reply.
I hired a car and drove seven miles to the farther end of the loch, to the village of Lochearnhead. There I made inquiry at the hotel and elsewhere, afterwards going on to Balquidder with similar result. It was past six o'clock when I returned to St. Fillans with the feeling that His Highness had deceived even his friend "Mickie," and that I had had my long journey and quest for nothing. Not a soul seemed to have seen anybody answering to "Willie's" description. I snatched another hasty meal at the hotel, and then, in the dusk, set off in the opposite direction along the pretty road which led to Comrie. The light was fast fading, but I knew that there would be a full moon, and the night was perfect.
I had walked about three miles, and had probably lost my way, for I was off the main road, when, on my left, saw the lighted windows of a comfortable-looking cottage standing back from the road behind a well-kept flower garden. There were woods on each side of the road, and I concluded that it was a keeper's house. As I passed I heard voices, and saw two figures standing at the garden gate—a man and a woman—chatting confidentially.
In the next second I recognized the man's voice as that of the Crown-Prince, and as quickly I stepped upon the grass so that they might not be attracted by my footsteps. Concealed by the shadow of the hedge on the opposite side of the road, I stealthilyapproached until I could distinguish, by the light from the open door of the cottage, that the woman was a stout, elderly person, probably the keeper's wife.
Both surprised and interested, I stood there watching. It seemed as though they were awaiting someone, for after a few moments, they both retired inside the cottage.
Presently, however, "Willie" emerged alone. He had on his hat and carried a stick, and as he swung through the gate and went forward he whistled softly to himself the air of a gay waltz of which he was particularly fond.
Within myself I chuckled at being thus able to watch his mysterious movements, for he seemed entirely preoccupied and quite unconscious of being followed, though I fear my footsteps fell heavily at times.
Suddenly, while passing along a part of the road overshadowed by woods on either side, he halted in the darkness. I heard him speak, and I also heard the welcome he received in a girl's voice. It was as I had surmised, and I drew a long breath.
I heard the pair talking, but from where I stood I could not overhear any of their conversation. I heard His Highness laugh gaily, and though he lit a cigarette his companion's face was turned from me so that I could not catch a glimpse of it in the fitful light.
Presently, after he had held her in his arms and kissed her, they turned back in my direction.
As they passed I heard the girl say:
"I've been waiting for quite a quarter of an hour, Mr. Lehnhardt. I thought perhaps something had prevented you from keeping the appointment."
"All my mistake, dear," was his reply. "My mistake. Forgive me."
"Of course," she said, laughing, and I saw that shehad her arm linked in his as they walked back in the direction of the keeper's cottage.
I followed in wonder, and not without anger. For the Heir of the Hohenzollerns to ramble upon such rural escapades was, I knew, distinctly dangerous. Exposure might come at any moment.
They had strolled together nearly half a mile when of a sudden, as they again passed into the deep shadows, the girl gave vent to a loud scream for help, and at the same moment men's angry voices were heard.
The pair had been attacked by three men who had apparently been lying hidden in the wood.
I heard a man shout, and then a sharp crack like that of a whip. The Kaiser's son was shouting, too, while the girl was screaming and crying shame upon those who had attacked the man with whom she had been walking.
"You infernal German!" I heard one of the men shriek. "I'll teach you to come sneaking here and take my sister out for midnight walks! Take that—you cur—and that!—whoever you are!"
Next second the startling truth was plain to me.
His Imperial Highness the German Crown-Prince was being ignominiously and soundly thrashed by an irate brother!
I saw that it was high time that I interfered. The Crown-Prince had been flung upon the ground, and the angry young man was lashing him as I dashed in among them with my revolver drawn.
"Come, cease that," I shouted. "Down with that whip. You've attacked these people on the high road, and if you strike again I'll fire."
"Hulloa!" cried one man. "Why, here's another German!"
"German or not—enough!" I commanded, and bending down, assisted the fallen Prince to rise.
"You—you shall pay for this, I swear!" declared "Willie," angrily facing the man who had struck him.Then, turning to me, he apparently recognized my voice, for he asked—"How in the name of Fate did you come here, Heltzendorff?"
"I will explain later," I replied in German. "Let us get out of this."
"But I cannot leave Violet. I—I——"
He had replied in the same language, which the men apparently did not understand.
"Enough; come," I said. Then in English I added, "We will wish these gentlemen good-night."
I took his arm and led him away amid the derisive laughter of the irate brother and his two friends, leaving the girl with them.
When we were out of earshot I told him of the Emperor's telegram, and added:
"That lady was Miss Hewitt, was she not?"
"Yes. Her father's estate is a few miles from here. She's a perfect little fiend for opium—got bitten with the habit when she was travelling with her married sister in China, and Maggie, her old nurse, who lives in the cottage we shall pass in a minute, lets her go there on the quiet and smoke. I have had two or three pipes there lately," he added merrily.
"Himmel!" I gasped. "How dangerous! She has no idea of who you are, I hope?"
"Not in the least."
"Good. Let us attend to the Emperor's telegram at once."
And a quarter of an hour later we were discussing the Kaiser's inquiry in a clean, comfortable, but out-of-the-way cottage in which "Willie" had established himself so as to be near the pretty girl for whom he had conceived that passing fascination.
Until to-day Violet Hewitt has been entirely ignorant of the identity of the man who, like herself, was so addicted to opium. These lines, if they meet her eye, will reveal to her a curious and, no doubt, startling truth.
"The Emperor commands you to audience at once in the private dining-room," said one of the Imperial servants, entering the Kaiser's study, where I was awaiting him.
It was seven o'clock on a cold, cheerless morning, and I had just arrived at Potsdam from Altona, the bearer of a message from the Crown-Prince to his father.
I knew that the Emperor always rose at five, and that he was breakfasting, as was his habit, alone with the Empress in that coquettish private dining-room of the Sovereigns, a room into which no servant is permitted, Augusta preparing and serving the coffee with her own hands. It was the one hour which the All-Highest before the war devoted to domesticity, when husband and wife could gossip and discuss matters alone and in secret.
As I passed downstairs to the room, to which entrance was forbidden even to the Crown-Prince himself, I naturally wondered why I had been commanded to audience there.
On tapping upon the mahogany door of the little private salon the Empress's hard voice gave permission to enter, whereupon I bowed myself into the cosy little place, hung with reseda silk and with pictures by Loncret, Perne and Watteau. Upon one side of the room was a beautiful buhl cabinet, and at the little round table placed near the window sat the Imperial pair.
The Empress was reading a letter, but His Majesty rose as I entered. He was wearing a grey tweed suit, a well-worn and, no doubt, easy one, in whichnobody ever saw him, for he always changed into uniform before he went to his study.
"Have you any knowledge of the contents of the letter which you have brought from the Crown-Prince?" he asked me bluntly, and I saw by his eyes that he seemed somewhat mystified.
I replied in the negative, explaining that I had been with His Imperial Highness to Kiel, and afterwards to Altona, where the Crown-Princess had performed the opening ceremony of a new dock.
"Where are you going now?" he asked suddenly. "There are other engagements, I believe?"
"To Thorn. His Imperial Highness inspects the garrison there on Thursday," I said.
"Ah! of course. I intended to go, but it is impossible."
Then, after a pause, the Emperor looked me straight in the face and suddenly said:
"Heltzendorff, have you any knowledge of any man called Minckwitz?"
I reflected.
"I know Count von Minckwitz, Grand-Master of the Court of the Duke of Saxe-Altenbourg," was my reply.
"No. This is a man, Wilhelm Minckwitz, who poses as a musician."
I shook my head.
"You are quite certain that you have never heard the name? Try to recollect whether the Crown-Prince has ever mentioned him in your presence."
I endeavoured to recall the circumstance, for somehow very gradually I felt a distinct recollection of having once heard that name before.
"At the moment I fail to recall anything, Your Majesty," was my answer.
The Emperor knit his brows as though annoyed at my reply, and then grunted deeply in dissatisfaction.
"Remain here in Potsdam," he said. "Telegraphto the Crown-Prince recalling him at my orders, and I will cancel the inspection at Thorn. Tell the Crown-Prince that I wish to see him to-night immediately upon his return."
Then, noticing for the first time that the Emperor held a paper in his hand, I realized that by its colour it was one of those secret reports furnished for the Kaiser's eye alone—a report of one of the thousands of spies of Germany spread everywhere.
Minckwitz! I impressed that name upon my memory, and, being dismissed, bowed myself out of the Imperial presence.
Returning to the Marmor Palace I sent a long and urgent message over the private wire to "Willie" at Altona, repeating His Majesty's orders, and recalling him at once. Quite well I knew that such an unusual message would arouse His Highness's apprehension that for some offence or other he was about to receive a paternal castigation. But I could not be explicit, because I had no knowledge of the reason the Emperor was cancelling our engagement at Thorn.
At nine o'clock that night the Crown-Prince, gay in his Hussar uniform, burst into the room wherein I was attending to the correspondence.
"What in the name of Fate does all this mean, Heltzendorff?" he demanded. "Why did the Emperor fail to reply to my message?"
"I delivered it," I said. And then I described what took place in the Emperor's private dining-room. When I mentioned the name of Minckwitz the Crown-Prince started and his cheeks blanched.
"Did he ask you that?" he gasped.
"Yes. I told him the only person I knew of that name was Count von Minckwitz."
"Ah, that little fat, old Master of the Court. Oh! The Emperor knows him well enough. It is somebody else he is referring to."
"Do you know him?" I asked eagerly.
"Me? Why—why, of course not!" was "Willie's"quick reply, in a tone which showed me that he was not telling the truth.
"His Majesty wishes to see you at once," I urged, full of wonder.
I could plainly see that His Imperial Highness had been much upset at mention of the mysterious person called Minckwitz. What could the Emperor know of him? Was there some scandal at the root of it all, some facts which the Crown-Prince feared might be revealed?
Travel-stained, and without changing his tunic, "Willie" went to the telephone and ordered Knof to bring back the car. And in it he drove across to the Neues Palais to see the Emperor.
I had an important appointment in Berlin that night, and waited until quite late for "Willie's" return. As he did not come I left for the capital, and on arrival at my rooms rang up Wolff's Agency, and gave out a paragraph to the Press that His Imperial Highness the Crown-Prince had been compelled to abandon his journey to Thorn, owing to having contracted a chill. His wife "Cilli"—the contraction for Cecilia—had, however, gone to visit Princess Henry of Rohnstock at Fürstenstein.
Several weeks went by, and one day we were at the ancient schloss at Oels, in far Silesia, the great estate which the Crown-Prince inherited on coming of age. The castle is a big, prison-like place, surrounded by wide lands and dense forests, lying between the town of Breslau and the Polish frontier, a remote, rural place to which "Willie" loved sometimes to retire with a few kindred spirits in order to look over the estate and to shoot.
The guests included old Count von Reisenach, Court Chamberlain, of the Prince of Schombourg-Lippe, who was a noted raconteur and bon-vivant, with Major von Heidkämper, of the 4th Bavarian Light Cavalry, a constant companion of "Willie's," and Karl von Pappenheim, a captain of the PrussianGuard, who had been educated at Oxford, and who was so English that it was often difficult for people from London to believe that he was a Prussian.
Von Pappenheim, a tall, good-looking, fair-moustached man under thirty, was one of "Willie's" new friends. He was the son of a great landowner of Erfurt, and the pair had for the past month been inseparable. He was a shrewd, keen-eyed man, who seemed ever on the alert, but, of course, obsessed by military dignity, and as full of swagger as any Prussian officer could be. He had a sister, Margarete, a pretty girl, a year or so his junior, who had been to the Marmor Palace on one occasion. The Crown-Princess had received her, but from the fact that she was not invited a second time I concluded that the inevitable jealousy had arisen, because in my presence "Willie" had more than once referred to her beauty.
I sometimes suspected that "Willie's" sudden and close friendship with Von Pappenheim had some connection with his intense admiration of the latter's sister. I, however, learnt the truth concerning their intimacy in a curious way while at the Schloss Oels.
One day I had accompanied the party out after stag, for, being a fair shot, I frequently snatched a day's sport. Soon after luncheon, which we took at a forester's house, we went forth again, and I concealed myself at a point of vantage, lying behind a screen of ferns and branches specially constructed as cover.
I was alone, at some considerable distance from the others, and had been there waiting for nearly an hour with my gun in readiness when suddenly I heard the cracking of dried wood not far away.
Something was moving. I raised my gun in breathless eagerness.
Next moment, however, I heard the voices of two men.—"Willie" and his friend, Von Pappenheim.They were approaching me, speaking in low, confidential tones.
"You quite understand," "Willie" was saying. "My position is a terrible one. I don't know how to extricate myself. If I dare reveal the truth then I know full well what their vengeance will be."
"But, my dear Cæsar," was Karl von Pappenheim's reply, for he was on such intimate terms that he called His Highness by the name Von Hochberg had bestowed upon him, "is it not your duty to risk all and tell the truth?" he suggested seriously.
The pair had halted only a few yards from me and taken cover behind a dead bush which had been cut down and placed conveniently at the spot, in case the shooting party were a large one and the screen behind which I had concealed myself was insufficient. So near were they that I could hear all that was said.
"The Emperor would neither believe me nor forgive me," "Willie" said. "Minckwitz is a clever devil. He would bring manufactured evidence which must implicate me."
Minckwitz! That was the name which the Emperor had uttered, asking me if I knew him! That incident at the Neues Palais flashed across my memory. I recollected, too, how, when I had referred to the circumstance, His Highness had become pale and agitated. Mention of the name had affected him curiously.
"But can he bring evidence?" asked his companion.
"Yes, curse him!—he can!"
"You can refute it, surely?"
"No, I can't. If I could I should make a clean breast of the whole matter," "Willie" declared. From the tone of his voice I realized how utterly bewildered he was.
"But cannot I help you? Cannot I see Minckwitz and bluff him?" his friend suggested.
"You don't know him," was the reply. "He holds me in the hollow of his hand."
"Ah! Then you have been horribly indiscreet—eh?"
"I have. I admit I have, Karl; and I do not see any way out of it."
"But, my dear Cæsar, think of the danger existing day by day—hour by hour!" cried Von Pappenheim. "Think what there is at stake! That letter you showed me this morning reveals only too plainly what is intended."
"It is a letter of defiance, I admit."
"And a catastrophe must inevitably occur if you do not act."
"But how can I act?" cried the Crown-Prince, in despair. "Suggest something—I cannot. If I utter a syllable Minckwitz will most certainly carry out his threat against me."
"Contrive to have him arrested upon some charge or other," Karl suggested.
"If I did he would produce the evidence against me," declared the Crown-Prince.
A silence then fell between the pair. Suddenly Karl asked:
"Does Von Heltzendorff know?"
"He knows nothing," was "Willie's" answer. "The Emperor questioned him, but he was in ignorance of Minckwitz's existence. He was naturally surprised, but I did not regard it as judicious to enlighten him."
"He is your confidential adjutant. If I were you I should tell him the truth. No time should be lost, remember."
Then, after a few seconds of silence. Von Pappenheim went on:
"Why, I never thought of it! My sister Margarete knows Minckwitz. She might perhaps be useful to us—eh?"
"Why, yes!" cried "Willie," "a woman can frequently accomplish a thing where a man would fail.A most excellent idea. Let us leave the others to their sport and get back to the schloss and discuss a line of action—eh?"
And in agreement the pair emerged from their ambush, and retraced their steps along the path they had come.
Still greatly puzzled at the nature of the secret which the Crown-Prince was withholding from me, I came out of my hiding-place and presently rejoined the party.
That night we all dined together, as was our habit when at Oels, but I saw that "Willie" was upset and nervous, and noticed that he drank his champagne heavily. On the contrary, Von Pappenheim was wary and watchful.
Next evening Von Pappenheim's sister Margarete, fair-haired,petiteand rather doll-like, arrived at the Castle.
During dinner an Imperial courier arrived from Berlin with a letter from the Emperor, and "Willie" opened it, read it, and then, excusing himself, left the table. I rose and followed him, as was my duty, but when outside the room His Highness sent me back, saying in a thick, husky voice:
"I shall not want you. Von Heltzendorff; I will write the reply myself."
On my return the guests were discussing the effect of the Emperor's message upon their host, Von Pappenheim being particularly anxious. He said something in a low voice to his sister, when the latter became at once thoughtful. Indeed, the remainder of the meal was a very dull affair, and it was with relief that we rose and went out into the big ancient hall, with its vaulted ceiling, where coffee was always served.
The courier had left on his return journey to the capital, yet "Willie" did not again reappear. At eleven o'clock I found him lying in a very advanced state of intoxication upon the sofa in the room setapart for me for my writing. Near him stood an empty brandy bottle and an empty syphon of soda-water.
I called his faithful valet, and together we half carried him to his room, where he was undressed and put to bed. Hardly had I returned to my room when Von Pappenheim entered in search of his host.
"His Highness is not well, and has retired to his room," I said. "He expressed a desire to see nobody to-night."
Von Pappenheim's face changed.
"Oh!" he cried in despair. "Why did he not see me and tell me the truth! Precious hours are flying, and we must act if the situation is to be saved."
"What situation?" I asked, in pretended ignorance.
"You know nothing, Von Heltzendorff, eh?" he asked, looking me straight in the face.
"Nothing," was my reply.
"You have no knowledge of the trap into which the Crown-Prince fell when he was in Paris with you six months ago, and when he and I first met?"
"A trap! What do you mean?"
"Has he told you nothing?"
"Not a syllable."
"Ah! Then I cannot be frank with you until I obtain His Highness's permission. He told me that you knew nothing, but I did not believe it. Knowing well what implicit confidence he places in you, I believed that you knew the ghastly truth."
"You alarm me," I said. "If the situation is grave, then I may be able to be of some assistance, more especially if time is pressing."
He hesitated, but refused to reveal a single fact before receiving the Crown-Prince's permission.
Into what trap had "Willie" fallen during our last visit to Paris I could not conceive. His wild orgies in the Montmartre, his constant absences alone, histerrible craving for excitement, his wild and reckless search for pleasure in the lowest haunts of vice, had ever been a source of anxiety to me. Times without number had I lifted a warning finger, only to be derided and ridiculed by the son of the All-Highest One.
Next day, soon after His Highness was dressed, he entered my room.
"Heltzendorff," he said, "I have been chatting with Von Pappenheim and his sister upon a little matter of business which closely concerns myself. I want you to leave in an hour's time and go to Hanover. In the Kirchröder Strasse, No. 16, out at Kleefeld there lives a certain man named Minckwitz—a Pole by birth. He has two nieces—one about twenty and the other two years older. With them you have no concern. All I want is that you engage a photographer, or, better, yourself take a snapshot of this man Minckwitz, and bring it to me. Be discreet and trust no one with the secret of your journey."
"Exactly. There is a doubt as to the man's identity, eh?"
"Willie" nodded in the affirmative.
Satisfied that I should at last see the mysterious person whose identity the Emperor had wished to establish, I set out from Oels on my long journey right across Germany.
In due course I arrived in Hanover, and found the house situate in the pleasant suburb. Here I found that "Willie's" suspicions were correct, and the man Minckwitz was living under the name of Sembach and pretending to be a musician. I watched, and very soon with my own camera took in secret a snapshot of the mysterious individual as he walked in the street. With this I left two days later on my return to Oels.
The photograph was that of a thin, narrow-faced, deep-eyed man, with a scraggy, pointed beard—atypical Pole, and when I handed it to "Willie" he held his breath.
"Look!" he cried, turning to Von Pappenheim and his sister, who were both present. "Look! There is no mistake! That is the man. What shall we do? No time must be lost. How can I act?"
Brother and sister exchanged glances blankly. From inquiries I had made in Hanover, it seemed that the man was a stranger, a music-master, who had arrived there about a month ago. I feared to make inquiry through the police, because my official capacity as personal-adjutant to the Crown-Prince was too well known, and suspicion might have thus been aroused.
The trio again held secret counsel, but I was not told the nature of their deliberations. All I knew was that the Crown-Prince was in some terrible and most dangerous difficulty.
That afternoon I met the girl Margarete walking alone in the grounds near the Schloss. The autumn sun was pleasant, though there was a sharp nip in the air, which told of the coming of the early Silesian winter. Most of the trees were already bare, and the ground was carpeted with the gold-brown leaves of the great beeches.
We had walked together for some distance, when I suddenly halted and asked her point-blank why they were all in such great fear of Herr Minckwitz.
She started, staring at me with her big blue eyes.
"His Highness has not told you, Count. Therefore, it would ill become me to reveal his secret," was her cold rebuke.
"But if the situation is so grave, and if I have been entrusted with the secret mission to Hanover, I may, perhaps, be of service in the matter. I understand that you are acquainted with Herr Minckwitz,aliasSembach—eh?"
"Who told you that?"
"Nobody. I learnt it myself," I answered, with a smile.
For a second she reflected, then, with a woman's cleverness, she said:
"I can tell you nothing. Ask the Crown-Prince himself." And she refused to discuss the matter further. Indeed, she left the Castle two hours later.
That night I went boldly to "Willie," finding him alone in a little circular room in one of the towers of the Castle, to which he often retired to smoke and snooze.
I stood before him, and without mincing matters told him what I had overheard and all I knew.
The effect of my words was almost electrical. He sat up, staring at me almost dazed at my statement.
"It is true, Heltzendorff. Alas! True!" he replied. But he would even then give me no inkling of the reason of his fear.
"If this Herr Minckwitz means mischief, then surely it would be easy to secure his arrest for some offence or other, and you need not appear in it," I suggested.
"I've thought of all that. But if the police lay hands upon him, then he will revenge himself on me. He will carry out his threat—and—and, Heltzendorff, I could never hold up my head again."
"Why?"
"I can't be more explicit. I'm in a hole, and I cannot extricate myself."
I reflected for a moment. Then I said:
"You appear to fear some action of Minckwitz's. If that is so, I will return to Hanover and watch. If there is any hostile intent, I will endeavour to prevent it. Fortunately, he does not know me."
Next night I was back again in Hanover, having stopped in Berlin to pick up a friend of mine upon whose discretion I could rely implicitly—a retired member of the detective force named Hartwieg. Together we started to watch the movements of themysterious Polish musician, and to our surprise we found that he had three friends, one of them a furrier living in the Burgstrasse, who visited him regularly each evening. They always arrived at the same hour, and generally left about eleven o'clock. Through five days we kept watch, alternately closely shadowing the man who called himself Sembach, and becoming acquainted with his friends, most of whom seemed of a very queer set.
There was no doubt that Minckwitz and the two young women were associates of some criminal gang, and, further, I was staggered one evening to watch the arrival at the house of a young man whom I recognized as Brosch, an under-valet of the Emperor's at the Neues Palais.
For what reason had he come from Potsdam?
He remained there till noon on the following day. When he emerged, accompanied by Minckwitz, the pair went into the city, and we followed, when, curiously enough, I came face to face with Von Pappenheim's sister, who was apparently there for the same purpose as myself! Happily she was too intent in her conversation with Minckwitz, whom she met as though accidentally, to notice my presence.
Then, at last, the musician raised his hat and left her, rejoining the young man Brosch.
The pair went to a bookshop in the Herschelstrasse, and presently, when they came forth again, Brosch was carrying a good-sized volume wrapped in brown paper.
My curiosity was aroused, therefore I went into the shop, made a purchase, and learned from the shopman that the younger of the pair had purchased a well-known German reference-book, Professor Nebendahl's "Dictionary of Classical Quotations."
Strange that such a book should be purchased by an under-valet!
Leaving the detective Hartwieg to watch, I tookthe next train back to Potsdam, where I was fortunate enough to find the Emperor giving audience to the Imperial Chancellor. At the conclusion of the audience I sought, and was accorded, a private interview, at which I recalled His Majesty's anxiety to ascertain something regarding the man Minckwitz.
"Well—and have you found him?" asked the Emperor very eagerly.
I replied in the affirmative. Then he told me something which held me breathless, for, unlocking a drawer, he showed me an anonymous letter of warning he had received, a letter which, posted in Paris, stated that an attempt was to be made upon his life, and hinting that the Crown-Prince might be aware of it.
"Of course," he laughed, "I do not regard it seriously, but I thought we ought to know the whereabouts of this man Minckwitz, who is probably an anarchist."