The first effect upon me of Praga's story was to rouse and thrill every pulse of passion in my nature. I could not think connectedly, and as I plunged along through the early morning to von Nauheim's house I was impelled by an overwhelming desire to call that villain instantly to account. Insane plans flitted through my head of dashing into his room and making him fight me to the death; and I gloated in the belief that I could kill him.

But as the air cooled my fever my steps slackened their speed, my judgment began to reassert its rule, and I saw that I should make a huge mistake if I allowed myself to be led in such a crisis by the mere impulses of blind rage. I had another to think of beside myself. He was waiting up for me, no doubt curious and anxious to learn what I had been doing; but I dared not trust myself to be with him then; so I sent a message that I was unwell, and I hurried at once to my rooms.

Then I made the first practical admission that I felt myself in peril; for I searched the rooms carefully to see that no one was concealed in them, and I looked carefully to the fastenings of the doors to make certain that no one could get in while I slept. I resolved also to buy myself arms on the following day. I could not sleep, of course. I lay tossing from side to side all through the hours of the dawn, thinking, puzzling, speculating, and scheming; striving my hardest to decide what I ought to do.

After what I had seen in the attack on Praga, I could not doubt that my own personal danger was great. My cousin Gustav's fate had shown that the men I had to deal with were infinitely cunning in resource and absolutely desperate in resolve. Where, then, might I look for any attack? I judged that it would be most likely to come in some shape that would be difficult to trace to its authors; and I felt that I must guard against getting embroiled in any quarrel, must go armed, and must be always most vigilant and alert when I found myself in circumstances that would lend themselves to my being attacked with impunity.

I own that I did not like the prospect. I don't think I'm a coward, and claim no greater bravery than other men; but the thought that any moment might find me the mark for an assassin's dagger or bullet tested my courage to the utmost. My main problem, however, was of course as to what I should do in regard to the plot. There were undoubtedly a number of men pledged to support Minna's cause; loyal, true, faithful men of honor, who had risked much for her and would uphold her to the last; but how was I to distinguish the false from the true? If I could do that, my path would be plain enough. I could reveal the whole business to them, and we could together take means to checkmate the inner treachery. But I could not distinguish them; nor on the other hand could Minna in honor desert them.

There was the alternative of flight, of course; I could return to Gramberg and rush the girl across the French frontier; but in addition to the distaste for abandoning those who had been true to her, there were other solid reasons against the flight. I could not see that there was any permanent safety for Minna that way. As Praga had put it, it was a canon of the Ostenburg position that there should be no Gramberg claimant to the throne left alive or fit to claim the throne; and I did not doubt for a moment that she might still be the object of attack wherever she went. Their arm would be long enough to reach her. Thus flight would thwart the Ostenburg scheme, but it would not achieve what was far more important to us, the safety of all concerned.

Thus I was driven back again upon my former conclusion that the policy of flight must be only the last resource when other things had failed. And I made up my mind that if at all possible this Ostenburg scheme must be met and outwitted.

After many hours of thought on these lines, I began to see two courses. We must go on with the scheme up to the very verge of its completion. Then Minna should indeed disappear; but the disappearance should be stage-managed by us, and not by the Ostenburg agents; and a daring thought occurred to me, to entrap these men with their own snare when pledged to the hilt to support Minna.

I would not only let her reappear at the very moment when they would be reckoning on her absence to push the claims of their own man, the Duke Marx; but I would get hold of this duke himself and put him away in her place. We would thus hold the throne against them for long enough to make such terms of compromise as we chose to dictate.

It would be a dare-devil piece of work, and call for one or two desperate men. But I had two already to hand—von Krugen and Praga, with Steinitz as a faithful third—and we might find one or two more among those who were faithful to Minna's interests.

The thought of this so roused me that I could not stay in my bed, but paced up and down my room in a glow of excitement as I thought out, pondered, and planned the details move by move to the final climax.

My first step must be, of course, to mislead all those concerned in the scheme to believe that I was with them, and that I pledged Minna herself to the same course; and I went to meet von Nauheim in the morning with this idea clear in my thoughts.

"You were out of town yesterday, Prince?" he said.

"Yes, I am accustomed to quietude, and can clear my thoughts best in the country. This affair worries me."

"I understood you were ill when you came back?"

"Merely an excuse. I was fatigued, and in no mood for conversation. It was late."

"It was—very," he replied dryly.

I made no answer, and after a moment he said:

"I presume you were thinking about our matters?"

"They were not out of my thoughts all day, and have kept me awake all night. I could wish I had never heard of them!" I exclaimed sharply.

"I suppose it is rather a big thing for you to decide?" he said, with a laugh; and then added quickly, "I presume you have decided, though? We shall expect to know to-night definitely."

"I am disposed to advise my cousin to join you and go on; but it may be nervousness, or that I am unused to such weighty affairs—whatever it is, I scarcely know how to answer."

"Well, you have had five or six days, you know."

"I've had to change all my views. I came to Munich with the conviction that such a scheme must fail, and could only end in disaster or, perhaps, worse."

"And now?" he asked, eyeing me sharply.

"I see the risks are enormous; but success seems much more probable than I thought. Indeed, if all is as it appears to be, I don't see where failure can come. I was trying to see that all day yesterday."

"What do you mean 'if all is as it appears'? What else can it be?"

"In a thousand schemes every one must have a weak spot somewhere. In this I fear what Berlin may do."

This answer relieved the doubt I had purposely raised, and he smiled as though my objection were ridiculous.

"Discuss that with Baron Heckscher. You'll soon see there's no cause for fear in it."

"If I were sure of that, my last objection would be gone."

"Then you are ours at last!" he exclaimed triumphantly, "and I'm right glad of it, Prince. You'll never repent throwing in your lot with us, for we shall rule this kingdom as surely as you and I are sitting at this table."

Gradually I allowed myself to be led on by him to copy, in a modified degree, his tone of jubilant enthusiasm, until he had no longer a doubt that I had been won over completely; and I spoke as if in some awe of the magnificent mission and great opportunities which a woman of Minna's high character and aims would have as the future Queen of Bavaria. He indulged this vein in the belief that he was drawing out my earnestness and encouraging my loyalty, and, indeed, fooling me to the top of my bent.

He asked me how I would spend the day, and whether I wished to see any more of our friends, before the meeting, to discuss my lingering doubts as to interference from Berlin; but I said I would rather be alone, as I was accustomed to solitary meditation, and that I was going to ride. He placed his stable at my disposal, and suggested one or two places of interest to which I could go.

I pretended to accept his suggestions, and he watched me ride off, standing bare-headed and gazing after me. When I turned, he waved his hand, and his face wore a smile of confident self-congratulation at the cleverness with which he had duped me. I kept to the road which he had mentioned for a short distance, riding at a slow pace, and then, turning off from it, I threaded the outskirts of the town until I struck the Linden road, when I put my horse to a sharp canter to keep my appointment.

One point I had to consider carefully—how far to trust Praga. He was a man to beware of, unscrupulous, recklessly daring, and bitterly vengeful; but I had saved his life, and I believed that he had in his disposition that kind of rough and dogged chivalry which would incline him to feel under an obligation to me, at least until he had paid the debt in kind. Assistance of some sort from some one with inside knowledge I must have, for the case was desperate enough; and there was no doubt that he would be infinitely valuable to me. I had strong inducements to offer, too—revenge for his own injuries; gratitude for my help on the preceding night; momentary reward to any reasonable amount; and advancement to a post of confidence. There was a risk that he would betray me, of course; but I could not weigh these risks too carefully, and this was one I felt I must be content to take.

I had ridden some ten or eleven miles, and was walking my horse slowly past a small coppice, when I heard him call to me from among the trees. He had chosen a cunning hiding-place. He knew his business.

"Ride on to the next turning on this side, Prince, and turn in at the first gate."

I followed his instructions, and found him already at the gate, on foot, having tied his horse to a tree. I fastened mine and then joined him.

"Were you followed from my house last night?" he asked; and when I told him no, he added: "Good; I had to shake them off this morning. The game is getting warmer. We must not stay long together. What have you to say to me?"

"Will you show me the paper you made von Nauheim sign?" I asked.

"I will take your word of honor for its safe keeping," he returned, his dark face smiling. "I guessed you would wish to see it." And he handed it to me.

"You trust it to me?" I cried, in some surprise.

"I am no fool, Prince," he answered. "If you keep that, it means we shall work together, and that is what I wish. If we are not to do so, you are too honorable a man not to return it. I trust either wholly, or not at all." He raised his hands, shoulders, and eyebrows in a combined gesture, as though suggesting there was no more to be said about the matter. "But you, what are you going to do? You have some plan, of course?"

"Will you work with me?" I asked.

"I told you last night—my purse, my sword, and my life are at your service, and if your plan helps my revenge I will keep as stanch and true as a hound."

"I am going to put my whole scheme in your possession," was my answer; and in the fewest words I told him what I had resolved, keeping back only such parts of the plan as touched the Countess Minna and myself personally.

He listened with rapt attention, his swarthy face drawn into thoughtful lines, and he did not interrupt me once. When I had finished, he remained silent a long while thinking it all over carefully.

"It is a shrewd scheme, Prince, very shrewd. There is only one difficulty."

"Well?"

"For you and me to keep alive sufficiently long to carry it through. The attempt last night will not be the last, and the efforts won't be confined to me. They have not touched you so far, probably because they feel it will strengthen their hands with the Countess Minna to get your open adherence to the plot. But when that has once been obtained, you will only be in the way, and you had better lay your account with that. But if we can keep our hearts beating and our throats unslit until the time of crisis comes, we shall win. By the sword of the archangel, but I like the scheme!"

"There is a meeting to-night at which I announce my formal adherence, and then I shall return to Gramberg to complete my arrangements."

"If you live to leave the town," he said grimly. "But you understand now the sort of men you are fighting. And what do you wish me to do?"

"Yours will be the most dangerous and, in some respects, I think the most difficult work of all—the post of honor. You must prepare the means by which the Duke Marx von Ostenburg can be got into our power, and you must be prepared to carry out the seizure the moment I give the signal. It had best be done on the very day of the court ball."

To my surprise he smiled and declared that that part of the business would not be difficult of accomplishment.

"I may need one man to help me, though I can probably do it all alone; and you will only have to say where you wish him carried."

"I have to find the place yet," I replied. "But how can you do this? Why are you so sure?"

"I can move the female lever which can move him," he returned, with his hard smile.

"But at that moment he himself will be all anxiety for these matters of State, and his presence in Munich will be simply imperative for their interests."

"No matter. If he was buried under a mountain and had to claw his way out with his nails and teeth, he would do it at her bidding. Have no fear."

"He will not be harmed?"

"That we can settle when we get him," he answered grimly.

I said no more. So long as we could make secure the person of the duke at the moment we needed him, I would see to the rest. Then I arranged how we two were to hold communication and untethered my horse to leave.

"You will go to that meeting to-night, Prince?" he asked.

"Certainly, it is necessary."

"You will go armed, then?"

"Arms will not be of much use; but I shall take them."

"I need not warn you again. But this I would say: At the very moment when you feel safest expect their attack. And now, as a last word, let me give you a pledge that whatever happens I will not let a word between my teeth. On the honor of a Corsican."

He raised his hat and stood bare-headed. He had the dramatic instinct keenly developed, and he did everything with pose and gesture that might have been taken for artificiality. But I was convinced that he was stanch enough in this affair.

I rode back to Munich by a different route, and my thoughts were busy with the forthcoming meeting. I did not consider it at all likely that any sort of violence would be attempted then; but Praga's words of caution began to run in my head—"When you feel safest, expect the attack." All the afternoon they were buzzing in my thoughts, and when von Nauheim returned in time for a very hurried late dinner, and the hour of the meeting drew nigh, they were more insistent than ever.

In the afternoon I bought myself arms—a sword-stick and a revolver; and while I was alone I took careful note of the room where the meeting was to be held, its entrances and exits. There was a window in the corner which opened on to a quadrangle at the back of the house, and I resolved to take my seat near that, lest I should need a speedy way of escape.

I had, indeed, determined upon one somewhat daring step, and I could not foretell what consequences might ensue.

When the hour for the meeting came, I took my seat and watched the men as they entered; and sat steadying my nerves and planning my moves in the game which was about to open in such deadly earnest, and which might have such momentous consequences for all concerned.