Miss Baxter found life at the Schloss much different from what she had expected. The Princess was a young and charming lady, very handsome, but in a state of constant depression. Once or twice Miss Baxter came upon her with apparent traces of weeping on her face. The Prince was not an old man, as she had imagined, but young and of a manly, stalwart appearance. He evidently possessed a fiendish temper, and moped about the castle with a constant frown upon his brow.

The correspondence of the Princess was in the utmost disorder. There were hundreds upon hundreds of letters, and Miss Baxter set to work tabulating and arranging them. Meanwhile the young newspaper woman kept her eyes open. She wandered about the castle unmolested, poked into odd corners, talked with the servants, and, in fact, with everyone, but never did she come upon a clue which promised to lead to a solution of the diamond difficulty. Once she penetrated into a turret room, and came unexpectedly upon the Prince, who was sitting on the window-ledge, looking absently out on the broad and smiling valley that lay for miles below the castle. He sprang to his feet and stared so fiercely at the intruder that the girl’s heart failed her, and she had not even the presence of mind to turn and run.

“What do you want?” he said to her shortly, for he spoke English perfectly. “You are the young woman from Chicago, I suppose?”

“No,” answered Miss Baxter, forgetting for the moment the role she was playing; “I am from London.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter; you are the young woman who is arranging my wife’s correspondence?”

“Yes.” The Prince strode rapidly forward and grasped her by the wrist, his brow dark with a forbidding frown. He spoke in a hoarse whisper:

“Listen, my good girl! Do you want to get more money from me than you will get from the Princess in ten years’ service? Hearken, then, to what I tell you. If there are any letters from—from—men, will you bring them to me?”

Miss Baxter was thoroughly frightened, but she said to the Prince sharply,—

“If you do not let go my wrist, I’ll scream. How dare you lay your hand on me?”

The Prince released her wrist and stepped back.

“Forgive me,” he said; “I’m a very miserable man. Forget what I have said.”

“How can I forget it?” cried the girl, gathering courage as she saw him quail before her blazing eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to bring to me any letters written by—by——”

“Written by von Schaumberg,” cried the girl, noticing his hesitation and filling in the blank.

A red wave of anger surged up in the Prince’s face.

“Yes,” he cried; “bring me a letter to her from von Schaumberg, and I’ll pay you what you ask.”

The girl laughed.

“Prince,” she said, “you will excuse me if I call you a fool. There are no letters from von Schaumberg, and I have gone through the whole of the correspondence.”

“What, then, suggested the name von Schaumberg to you? Where did you ever hear it before?”

“I heard that you suspected him of stealing the diamonds.”

“And so he did, the cowardly thief. If it were not for mixing the Princess’s name with such carrion as he, I would—”

But the Prince in his rage stamped up and down the room without saying what he would do. Miss Baxter quickly brought him to a standstill.

“It is contrary to my duty to the Princess,” she began, hesitatingly, when he stopped and turned fiercely upon her.

“What is contrary to your duty?”

“There are letters, tied very daintily with a blue ribbon, and they are from a man. The Princess did not allow me to read them, but locked them away in a secret drawer in her dressing-room, but she is so careless with her keys and everything else, that I am sure I can get them for you, if you want them.”

“Yes, yes, I want them,” said the Prince, “and will pay you handsomely for them.”

“Very well,” replied Miss Baxter, “you shall have them. If you will wait here ten minutes, I shall return with them.”

“But,” hesitated the Prince, “say nothing to the Princess.”

“Oh, no, I shall not need to; the keys are sure to be on her dressing-table.”

Miss Baxter ran down to the room of the Princess, and had little difficulty in obtaining the keys. She unlocked the secret drawer into which she had seen the Princess place the packet of letters, and taking them out, she drew another sheet of paper along with them, which she read with wide-opening eyes, then with her pretty lips pursed, she actually whistled, which unmaidenly performance merely gave sibilant expression to her astonishment. Taking both the packet of letters and the sheet of paper with her, she ran swiftly up the stair and along the corridor to the room where the Prince was impatiently awaiting her.

“Give them to me,” he snapped, rudely snatching the bundle of documents from her hand. She still clung to the separate piece of paper and said nothing. The Prince stood by the window and undid the packet with trembling hands. He examined one and then another of the letters, turning at last towards the girl with renewed anger in his face.

“You are trifling with me, my girl,” he cried.

“No, I am not,” she said stoutly.

“These are my own letters, written by me to my wife before we were married!”

“Of course they are. What others did you expect? These are the only letters, so far as I have learned, that any man has written to her, and the only letters she cares for of all the thousands she has ever received. Why, you foolish, blind man, I had not been in this castle a day before I saw how matters stood. The Princess is breaking her poor heart because you are unkind to her, and she cares for nobody on earth but you, great stupid dunce that you are.”

“Is it true? Will you swear it’s true?” cried the Prince, dropping the packet and going hastily toward the girl. Miss Jennie stood with her back to the wall, and putting her hands behind her, she said,—

“No, no; you are not going to touch me again. Of course it’s true, and if you had the sense of a six-year-old child, you would have seen it long ago; and she paid sixty thousand pounds of your gambling debts, too.”

“What are you talking about? The Princess has never given me a penny of her money; I don’t need it. Goodness knows, I have money enough of my own.”

“Well, Cadbury Taylor said that you—Oh, I’ll warrant you, it is like all the rest of his statements, pure moonshine.”

“Of whom are you speaking? And why did my wife protect that wretch whom she knows has stolen her diamonds?”

“You mean von Schaumberg?”

“Yes.”

“I believe the Princess does think he stole them, and the reason the Princess protects him is to prevent you from challenging him, for she fears that he, being a military man, will kill you, although I fancy she would be well rid of you.”

“But he stole the diamonds—there was nobody else.”

“He did nothing of the kind. Read that!”

The Prince, bewildered, took the sheet that she handed to him and read it, a wrinkle of bewilderment corrugating his brow.

“I don’t understand what this has to do with the case,” he said at last. “It seems to be an order on the bank at Vienna for the diamonds, written by the Princess herself.”

“Of course it is. Well, if the diamonds had been delivered, that paper would now be in the possession of the bank instead of in your hands.”

“Perhaps she mislaid this order and wrote another.”

“Perhaps. Still it might be worth while finding out.”

“Take this, then, to the Princess and ask her.”

“It is not likely she would remember. The better plan is to telegraph at once to the Vienna bank, asking them to send the diamonds to Meran by special messenger. No one there knows that the diamonds are missing.”

“I will do so at once,” cried the Prince, with more animation in his voice than Miss Baxter had previously noticed. His Highness was becoming interested in the game.

After luncheon the Princess came to Miss Baxter, who was seated at her desk, and handed her a letter.

“There is an invitation from the Duchess of Chiselhurst for a grand ball she is shortly to give in her London house. It is to be a very swell affair, but I don’t care enough for such things to go all the way to England to enjoy them. Would you therefore send her Grace my regrets?”

“I will do so at once.”

At that moment there came a messenger from the Prince asking Miss Baxter to meet him in the library. The girl glanced up at the Princess.

“Have I your permission to go?” she said.

The Princess looked at her steadily for a moment, just the faintest suspicion of a frown on her fair brow.

“I do not suppose you need my permission.” Her Highness spoke with slow deliberation. “My husband condescends to take considerable interest in you. Passing along the corridor this morning, I heard your voices in most animated conversation.”

“Had you sufficient interest in our discussion to stop and listen to what we said, Princess von Steinheimer?”

“Ah, now you are becoming insolent, and I must ask you to consider your engagement with me at an end.”

“Surely you will not dismiss me in this heartless way, Princess. I think I am entitled to a month’s notice, or is it only a week’s?”

“I will pay you a year’s salary, or two years’ if that will content you. I have no wish to deal harshly with you, but I desire you to leave at once,” said the Princess, who had little sense of humour, and thus thought the girl was in earnest when she asked for notice.

Miss Baxter laughed merrily, and replied when she was able to control her mirth, “I do hate to leave the castle just when things are becoming interesting. Still, I don’t suppose I shall really need to go away in spite of your dismissal, for the Prince this morning offered me ten times the amount of money you are paying.”

“Did he?”

“Be assured he did; if you don’t believe me, ask him. I told him he was a fool, but, alas, we live in a cynical age, and few men believe all they hear, so I fear my expression of opinion made little impression on him.”

“I shall not keep you longer from his Highness,” said the Princess with freezing dignity.

“Thank you so much. I am just dying to meet him, for I know he has something most interesting to tell me. Don’t you think yourself, Princess, that a man acts rather like a fool when he is deeply in love?”

To this there was no reply, and the Princess left the room.

Miss Jennie jumped to her feet and almost ran to the library. She found the Prince walking up and down the long room with a telegraph message in his hand. “You are a most wonderful young woman,” he said; “read that.”

“I have been told so by more observing men than you, Prince von Steinheimer,” said the girl, taking the telegram. It was from the manager of the bank in Vienna, and it ran: “Special messenger leaves with package by the Meran express to-night.”

“Just as I thought,” said Miss Jennie; “the diamonds never left the bank. I suppose those idiots of servants which the Princess has round her didn’t know what they took away from Vienna and what they left. Then, when the diamonds were missing, they completely lost their heads—not that anyone in the castle has much wit to spare. I never saw such an incompetent lot.”

The Prince laughed.

“You think, perhaps, I have not wit enough to see that my wife cares for me, is that it? Is that why you gave me my own letters?”

“Oh, you are well mated! The Princess now does me the honour of being jealous. Think of that! As if it were possible that I should take any interest in you, for I have seen real men in my time.”

The Prince regarded her with his most severe expression.

“Are you not flattering yourself somewhat, young lady?”

“Oh, dear no! I take it as the reverse of flattering to be supposed that I have any liking for such a ninny as you are. Flattering, indeed! And she has haughtily dismissed me, if you please.”

“The Princess has? What have you been saying to her?”

“Oh, I made the most innocent remark, and it was the truth too, which shows that honesty is not always the best policy. I merely told her that you had offered me ten times the amount of money she is paying me. You needn’t jump as if somebody had shot off a gun at your ear. You know you did make such an offer.”

“You confounded little mischief-maker,” cried the Prince in anger. “Did you tell her what it was for?”

“No. She did not ask.”

“I will thank you to apply the cleverness you seem to possess to the undoing of the harm you have so light-heartedly caused.”

“How can I? I am ordered to leave to-night, when I did so wish to stay and see the diamond dÉnouement.”

“You are not going to-night. I shall speak to the Princess about it if that should be necessary. Your mention of the diamonds reminds me that my respected father-in-law, Mr. Briggs, informs me that a celebrated detective, whom it seems he has engaged—Taylor, I think the name is—will be here to-morrow to explain the diamond mystery, so you see you have a competitor.”

“Oh, is Cadbury coming? That is too jolly for anything. I simply must stay and hear his explanation, for he is a very famous detective, and the conclusions he has arrived at must be most interesting.”

“I think some explanations are due to me as well. My worthy father-in-law seems to have commissioned this person without thinking it necessary to consult me in the least; in fact, Mr. Briggs goes about the castle looking so dark and lowering when he meets me, that I sometimes doubt whether this is my own house or not.”

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Is it your own house? I was told it was mortgaged up to the tallest turret. Still, you can’t blame Mr. Briggs for being anxious about the diamonds; they belong to his daughter.”

“They belong to my wife.”

“True. That complicates matters a bit, and gives both Chicago and Vienna a right to look black. And now, your Highness, I must take my leave of you; and if the diamonds come safely in the morning, remember I intend to claim salvage on them. Meanwhile, I am going to write a nice little story about them.”

In the morning the diamonds arrived by special messenger, who first took a formal receipt for them, and then most obsequiously took his departure. By the same train came Mr. Cadbury Taylor, as modest as ever, but giving some indication in his bearing of the importance of the discovery his wonderful system had aided him in making. He blandly evaded the curiosity of Mr. Briggs, and said it would perhaps be better to reveal the secret in the presence of the Prince and Princess, as his investigations had led him to conclusions that might be unpleasant for one of them to hear, yet were not to be divulged in their absence.

“Just what I suspected,” muttered Mr. Briggs, who had long been convinced that the Prince was the actual culprit.

The important gathering took place in the library, the Prince, with the diamonds in his coat pocket, seated at the head of the long table, while the Princess sat at the foot, as far from her husband as she could conveniently get without attracting notice. Miss Baxter stood near a window, reading an important letter from London which had reached her that morning. The tall, thin detective and the portly Mr. Briggs came in together, the London man bowing gravely to the Prince and Princess. Mr. Briggs took a seat at the side of the table, but the detective remained standing, looking questioningly at Miss Baxter, but evidently not recognizing her as the lady who had come in upon him and his friend when they had entered the train.

“I beg the pardon of your Highness, but what I have to say had better be said with as few hearers as possible. I should be much obliged if this young person would read her correspondence in another room.”

“The young woman,” said the Prince coldly, “is secretary to her Highness, and is entirely in her confidence.”

The Princess said nothing, but sat with her eyes upon the table, apparently taking no note of what was going on. Rich colour came into her face, and, as the keen detective cast a swift glance at her, he saw before him a woman conscious of her guilt, fearing exposure, yet not knowing how to avert it.

“If your Highness will excuse my persistence,” began Mr. Taylor blandly.

“But I will not,” interrupted the Prince gruffly. “Go on with your story without so much circumlocution.”

The detective, apparently unruffled by the discourtesy he met, bowed profoundly towards the Prince, cleared his throat, and began.

“May I ask your Highness,” he said, addressing himself to the Princess, “how much money you possessed just before you left Vienna?”

The lady looked up at him in surprise, but did not answer.

“In Heaven’s name, what has that to do with the loss of the diamonds?” rapped out the Prince, his hot temper getting once more the better of him. Cadbury Taylor spread out his hands and shrugged his shoulders in protest at the interruption. He spoke with deference, but nevertheless there was a touch of reproach in his tone.

“I am accustomed to being listened to with patience, and am generally allowed to tell my story my own way, your Highness.”

“What I complain of is that you are not telling any story at all, but are asking instead a very impertinent question.”

“Questions which seem to you irrelevant may be to a trained mind most—”

“Bosh! Trained donkeys! Do you know where the diamonds are?”

“Yes, I do,” answered Cadbury Taylor, still imperturbable, in spite of the provocation he was receiving.

“Well, where are they?”

“They are in the vaults of your bank in Vienna.”

“I don’t believe it. Who stole them then?”

“They were put there by her Highness the Princess von Steinheimer, doubtless in security for money—”

“What!” roared the Prince, springing to his feet, his stentorian voice ringing to the ceiling. “Do you mean to insinuate, you villain, that my wife stole her own diamonds?”

“If your Highness would allow me to proceed in my own—”

“Enough of this fooling. There are the diamonds,” cried the Prince, jerking the box from his pocket and flinging it on the table.

“There!” shouted old man Briggs, bringing his clenched fist down on the oak. “What did I tell you? I knew it all along. The Prince stole the diamonds, and in his excitement yanks them out of his pocket and proves it. That was my opinion all along!”

“Oh, father, father!” moaned the Princess, speaking for the first time. “How can you say such a thing? My husband couldn’t do a mean action if he tried. The idea of him stealing the diamonds! Not if they were worth a thousand millions and detection impossible.”

The Prince, who had been glaring at Mr. Briggs, and who seemed on the point of giving that red-faced gentleman a bit of his mind, turned a softened gaze upon his wife, who rested her arms on the table and buried her face in them.

“Come, come,” cried Miss Jennie Baxter, stepping energetically forward; “I imagine everybody has had enough of this. Clear out, Mr. Briggs, and take Mr. Taylor with you; I am sure he has not had any breakfast yet, and he certainly looks hungry. If you hire detectives, Mr. Briggs, you must take care of them. Out you go. The dining-room is ever so much more inviting just now than the library; and if you don’t see what you want, ring for it.”

She drove the two speechless men out before her, and, closing the door, said to the Prince, who was still standing bewildered at having his hand forced in this manner,—

“There! Two fools from four leaves two. Now, my dears—I’m not going to Highness either of you—you are simply two lone people who like each other immensely, yet who are drifting apart through foolish misunderstandings that a few words would put right if either of you had sense enough to speak them, which you haven’t, and that’s why I’m here to speak them for you. Now, madame, I am ready to swear that the Prince has never said anything to me that did not show his deep love for you, and if you had overheard us, you would not need me to tell you so. He thinks that you have a fancy for that idiot von Schaumberg—not that I ever saw the poor man; but he is bound to be an idiot, or the Prince wouldn’t be jealous of him. As nobody has stolen the diamonds after all this fuss, so no one has stolen the affection of either of you from the other. I can see by the way you look at each other that I won’t need to apologize for leaving you alone together while I run upstairs to pack.”

“Oh, but you are not going to leave us?” cried the Princess.

“I should be delighted to stay; but there is no rest for the wicked, and I must get back to London.”

With that the girl ran to her room and there re-read the letter she had received.

“Dear Miss Baxter (it ran),—We are in a very considerable dilemma here, so I write asking you to see me in London without delay, going back to the Tyrol later on if the investigation of the diamond mystery renders your return necessary. The Duchess of Chiselhurst is giving a great ball on the 29th. It is to be a very swagger affair, with notables from every part of Europe, and they seem determined that no one connected with a newspaper shall be admitted. We have set at work every influence to obtain an invitation for a reporter, but without success, the reply invariably given being that an official account will be sent to the press. Now, I want you to set your ingenuity at work, and gain admittance if possible, for I am determined to have an account of this ball written in such a way that everyone who reads it will know that the writer was present. If you can manage this, I can hardly tell you how grateful the proprietor and myself will be.—Yours very truly,

“RADNOR HARDWICK.”

Miss Jennie Baxter sat for some moments musing, with the letter in her hand. She conned over in her mind the names of those who might be able to assist her in this task, but she dismissed them one by one, well knowing that if Mr. Hardwick and the proprietor of the Bugle had petitioned all their influential friends without avail, she could not hope to succeed with the help of the very few important personages she was acquainted with. She wondered if the Princess could get her an invitation; then suddenly her eyes lit up, and she sprang eagerly to her feet.

“What a fortunate thing it is,” she cried aloud, “that I did not send on the refusal of the Princess to the Duchess of Chiselhurst. I had forgotten all about it until this moment.”