I took von Krugen into my confidence as to my discoveries and plans. I showed him the documents I had brought back from Munich; told him of my meeting with Praga; the secret history of the duel which had ended young Gustav's life; and, at the close, invited him to say plainly what he thought of the counter-scheme, and of our chances of carrying it through.

"It is about the only chance," he said, "and once on the throne there is no reason why the countess should not stay there."

"On the contrary, there are two overpowering reasons—her own disinclination, and the attitude of the Imperial authorities at Berlin."

"There may be a third," he growled into his beard, looking sharply at me.

"What is that?" I asked, though I could almost guess his meaning. But he turned the question adroitly.

"That her Majesty would have little wish for a royal marriage with an imperially selected consort chosen by Berlin. Her Majesty has a heart, unfortunately, and God bless her for it."

"That will be all as she pleases," said I quietly. "At any rate, our purpose is to give her the opportunity of declining the throne, and to save her from these villains who would hound her down."

His face grew as dark as night.

"God! if that villain ever dares to cross her path again, I'll run my sword through his carcass, if I die the next minute; and if he doesn't come near her, I'll seek him out the moment this business is through, and make him fight me. He has put not one but a thousand insults on me—and he a traitor all the time. And to think the Prince believed in him implicitly to the last. And so did I."

"Maybe the Prince had not the private knowledge of the man that I had, nor had you," I said unguardedly.

My companion started and looked at me in such surprise that I saw my blunder in a moment.

"You had known him previously?" he asked slowly.

"I had known of him," I answered in a tone of indifference. "It's a long story, and I may tell it you some day."

"It is not for me to question your Highness, of course, but I should never betray a confidence," he replied, piqued, as I thought, that I said no more; and for the moment I was hugely tempted to tell him the whole story.

It might be enormous value to have a stanch ally in my full confidence for the task I had to carry through; but, on the other hand, I could not tell how such a man would care to take his orders from an ex-play-actor, and I decided that I dared not run a risk at such a crisis. So I held my tongue, and sat as if my thoughts were busy with our plans.

"There is much to do, captain," I said at length, "and we must waste as little time as possible in consultation. In the first place, we have to keep open a means of communicating with Praga. Are you too well known in Munich to go backward and forward?"

"I fear so; but there is Steinitz. He is scarcely known at all there; but he has not yet returned from where you sent him."

I had forgotten altogether about him and his mission; and, now that the matter was recalled to me, the length of his absence gave me an uneasy twinge. There must be some very serious cause for so long a delay.

"He should have been back some days ago," I replied slowly. "Probably he will be here to-day or to-morrow, at latest, and that will be in time for our purpose. I myself shall return to Munich in a day or two; but I have purposely made no appointment as yet, and shall make none till the eve of my going, because, if my absence from here were to be known in advance, it might probably be the signal for some attempt against the Countess Minna."

"How shall you foil the attempt when it does come?" asked von Krugen.

"By vigilance mainly; but I mean also to appear to play into this Baron Heckscher's hands, while in reality forcing them. I shall see him and tell him that all here will be in Munich two days before the Court ball. That will give them time to make their plans to strike during those two days. Further, my present idea is that for the whole of those two days the character of the countess shall be doubled; this waiting-maid of hers will be dressed precisely as she herself is dressed the whole time, and, except when any one comes to the house who is in the house, and who knows the countess on sight, the girl will be the countess to every one. This means that the servants we take with us must be strangers, with the exception of one or two on whom we can rely implicitly. And I depend on you to make the selection."

"There are several here for whom I would answer as for myself; but isn't there a risk in so long a doubling of the parts?"

"Maybe; but we must be content to take it. My object is so to arrange matters that we ourselves shall virtually select the moment when they will try to get hold of my cousin. Thus I shall make it quite plain to them that during every moment of every hour she is in Munich she will be strictly watched and guarded by us; but I shall manage to let a weak link appear in the chain, and I have chosen this one. During the two days I shall give it out that my cousin is not well, and can only receive one or two persons. But there is to be a reception at the palace by the King on the afternoon of the day of the Court ball, and I shall let it appear that our vigilance must be relaxed on the return drive from the palace to the house. It will seem an excellent opportunity for them. But while the countess shall go herself to the reception, I shall arrange for the maid to take her place on the return drive with the Baroness Gratz, and my cousin will make a sufficient change of dress in the retiring-rooms to enable her to leave the palace unknown."

"But the Baroness Gratz?"

"You have no doubt of her loyalty?" I asked sharply. "Speak out plainly if you have."

"None in the least. I have no cause. I meant, what of the danger to her?"

"There will be little or none. They may indeed be glad to let her get away, while they will do her no harm even if they keep her prisoner. But the points in favor of such a scheme outweigh all against it. It will suit both them and us to have the abduction made as close to the time of the ball as possible—them, because we should then have no time to make a disturbance; us, because the shorter time we have to keep watch over von Nauheim to prevent his finding out the deception the better. A few hours later we shall be absolute masters of the situation."

"It's a scheme that stirs one's blood," cried von Krugen warmly. "But those few hours will be anxious ones."

"Meanwhile the Duke Marx will have been caught in the toils set for him, and will be in our power; the King will be taken at the ball, and thus our whole course will be clear. The mimic ceremony of abdication will take place, the cry will be raised for the Queen Minna, and just when they are chuckling that she cannot be found I shall lead her forward and put her in the place of honor, and make some sort of speech in her name—probably to the effect that she will take time to consider her course. They will be thus caught like rats in a hole they themselves have undermined; and there will be a pretty tableau."

"And then?"

"Well, our first step will be to look out for ourselves. The attack on me and you will commence at the moment they believe they have outwitted us; and the danger will spread to us all the instant they find we have outwitted them. But our holding of their duke as a hostage will disarm them."

"You are sure of Praga, and that he can get hold of the duke?"

"I am sure of no one but you," I returned; "and of nothing except of things as they occur from hour to hour. We can only lay our plans and do our best to carry them out; but in such a case any instant may see the unexpected happening, and the shipwreck of the best laid scheme. But I like Praga's lever—a woman is a most useful mechanism when you understand how to use her; and when I left Praga every vein of his was burning with a raging lust for revenge. And he is a Corsican. But if that part of the scheme fails, we must patch up another way, that's all. I mean to be stopped by nothing."

"By Heaven, but you're a man I love to follow!" cried my companion, his eyes kindling with enthusiasm.

Then I saw his expression change, and he peered curiously at me.

"And to think you've never been anything but a student. One might think you had lived in the atmosphere of intrigue all your life. The Prince little knew you. He believed you were a milksop. How he would have loved you for a man after his own heart. Some one must have been lying to him sorely about you."

"Dead slanders are of no import to us, captain, nor living flattery either," I said shortly. "We have to plan out our respective work and to set about doing it."

And with that I told him precisely that part of the plan which would fall to his share, and gave him suggestions as to the best way of carrying it out. When I had fully instructed him, I sent him away, and mapped out in my thoughts the further developments I had yet to plan.

The absence of Steinitz gave me much uneasiness. It seemed so grossly out of perspective that a big scheme such as was on hand should be endangered by a trumpery little matter like the selling of a couple of farms. Yet that was the fear I had. If Steinitz had been able to find von Fromberg and to give him my message, he ought to have been back long since; but if he had not found the man, I could not stop the sale of the property. Yet if it went on it was almost certain that the old lawyer would in some way get into communication with the men who were selling the place for von Fromberg, and my identity would at once be questioned.

I would have paid the money, of course, willingly enough; but obviously I could not buy an estate from myself. Again, I could not get over the difficulty in any such way as I had employed with Praga—that it was a freak.

The more I considered the thing the easier it appeared to me that I might be tripped up and exposed through it; and when the whole of that day passed without the return of Steinitz, my anxiety grew fast.

He arrived on the following afternoon, but he brought no relief with him. He had not found von Fromberg. He had gone to Charmes, and had arrived there after the wedding had taken place, and then he had set out to follow the bride and bridegroom on their tour. He had traced them from hotel to hotel, to Nancy, Bar-le-Duc, Rheims, Amiens, and thence to Paris; but in the French capital all sign of them was lost, and after making many useless inquiries there he had deemed it best to return to me and bring back the letter. I told him he had done right, but the incident added to my disquiet. It was such a contemptibly little thing, and yet, like a poisonous pin-prick, it threatened to gangrene the whole venture.

To add to my annoyance and perplexity, moreover, the old lawyer came to me again on the following day to tell me that further negotiations had taken place for the sale of the farms, and he pestered me to know whether I really meant to sell them out of the family, and whether the Count von Nauheim, as the Countess Minna's future husband, ought not to be told of the matter. His manner showed that he had a suspicion that something was being kept from him, and he resented it strongly.

It was obvious, of course, that if he went to von Nauheim the latter would jump at the chance of giving me trouble, and that if any suspicions were even hinted to him the results might be exceedingly awkward. Yet I could do nothing; and I was so irritated by the lawyer's persistence that I sent him away with a sharp reply that if he wished to retain my business he had better mind his own.

I could see he was vastly astonished at this and I more than half repented my words, but he had gone before I had quite recovered my temper. It was unbearable, however, that just when I had all the weight of a really important crisis on my shoulders I should be worried by a trumpery thing of this sort. I let him go, therefore, and tried to dismiss the matter from my thoughts, while I went on with the completion of my plans.

Everything else went as well as we could have wished. Minna herself entered heart and soul into the work, and in the many interviews we had during the next few days I could not have wished for a more loyal and trusty ally. Our little confidential conferences drew us very close together, moreover, and I saw with great delight that her spirits brightened.

The preparations for the critical work in Munich occupied her so fully that her thoughts were taken away from the grief caused by the death of her father, while the belief that success in our venture would open up a new life for her by freeing her from the marriage with von Nauheim and from the dreaded responsibilities of the throne raised hopes which brought with them happiness such as she had not known for months.

"I owe it all to you, cousin," she said once, for she grew to speak with absolute candor and unrestraint to me. "If only you had come to Gramberg earlier, I am sure you would have persuaded my father to abandon the scheme altogether; although I think sometimes that——"

"Well?" I asked when she paused.

"That it is a good thing you did not come earlier."

Her eyes were laughing, and the light in them was a pleasing thing to see.

"Perhaps it is. But why do you think so?"

"You have a way of making unpleasant things pleasant; and you might have persuaded me to do what he wished."

"There are not many women who would need much persuasion to be a Queen."

"Without conditions, perhaps."

"There is one condition I would never have advocated," said I, raising my eyes to hers. "But you will be a Queen after all, and we your humble servants, wishful only to obey your royal commands."

"I have settled one of the first uses I shall make of my power," she said, looking up and speaking as if seriously.

"And that will be?"

"You will be the object of it. I shall issue an order in council—Privy Council."

"Privy Council! You are getting learned in the jargon of State. I am afraid your Privy Council will be a very small one."

"Yes," she cried, nodding her head and smiling. "We two. And the order will be that my chief councillor shall tell me all the story of his life. If you won't tell it to your cousin, you must tell it to your Queen. And I know there are secrets in it. You think I don't take notice of you, I suppose; and never know when your thoughts are slipping away to the past and never see that you fence with my questions, and glide away so cleverly from the little traps I lay. You mustn't think because you would make me a Queen that I have ceased to be a woman—and, being a woman, to be curious."

"We have no time in these days——"

"There you go," she laughed. "I know what you'll say. You never think of the past because you are so busy thinking of all this business; that when a man is planning a big scheme like this, and has all the details to arrange, he has no time, etc., etc. But you have a secret, cousin Hans—a secret that is never out of your thoughts; that has nothing to do with all this fresh trouble and intrigue; that took you away from the castle for two days just after you arrived; and that has written its lines on your face. That may be because you can find no one to tell it to. Of course you think of me only as a girl—you self-contained strong men always do that—and that I should make no sort of a friend to be trusted with secrets. And yet——" she paused, and laying her hand gently on mine said softly and wistfully, "you have done so much for me I should like to be a little help to you. Can I, cousin? I'm not Queen yet, you know, and cannot command. I'm only a grateful girl, and can do no more than ask."

I was not a little disconcerted to find that she had been watching me so closely, and I could not remain untouched by the last little appeal. But I could not reply to it.

"You are a stanch little comrade," I answered. "But we must put off the story until the Queen commands," I answered, smiling.

"That is at least an open postponement, if not a frank refusal. But the Queen will command, cousin. I want to know why you would not come here at the first; what made you change your mind; how it was that all our ideas about you were wrong; why you are so different from what we all expected—oh, there are a thousand questions that sting the tip of my tongue with the desire to ask them."

"You think a student cannot also be a man of affairs?" I said, divided between pleasure at her interest in me and perplexity at her questions.

"But you are not even a student. You never open a book; you never quote things—ah, now you start because I have watched you. I can read your eyes, although you think you can drape them with the curtains of impassiveness. But your wit is not always on guard to draw the curtains close enough. Yes, that's better; now they are saying nothing."

All this time she had been looking straight into my eyes, and laughing in gleeful triumph. And I found it embarrassing enough. Then she changed suddenly, and said:

"Does my teasing worry you and weary you, cousin? I can school my curiosity if it does. But you will tell me all some day?"

"Is that schooling it?" I asked, and she laughed again. "Yes, I will tell you some day what there may be to tell. But it could do no good to do so yet."

"Is it a sad secret?" she began again after half a minute's silence, and would no doubt have gone on with her pretty cross-examination had we not, fortunately for me, been interrupted by a servant, who brought word that Steinitz, whom I had sent to Munich, had returned, and was asking to see me instantly.

"I hope there is no trouble?" said Minna, looking alarmed.

"I anticipate none; no more, that is, than that we must break off our conference."

"You have given me your promise," she said.

"I ought to have made a condition—that you do not read me quite so carefully," I answered lightly as I rose.

"Then I have read aright? To me your eyes are as books."

"Yet you must be careful how you read them," said I.

"Why?"

"You may chance on the chapter with your name at the head."

"I wish I could," and she laughed and her eyes brightened. "I would give the world to know whether it is headed Queen of Bavaria or cousin Minna. Which is it? Tell me, at least, so much."

"It may be neither," I answered ambiguously; but she seemed to understand something of my meaning, and to be pleased, for her cheeks were aglow with color as I hurried away.

Steinitz was awaiting me impatiently.

"There is ugly news, your Highness," he said shortly. "I saw Praga early this morning, and he bade me urge you to hurry at once to Munich. He has got wind of a move on the other side, which he prefers to tell to you alone. He will meet you to-morrow at noon where you met before, and he declares that the strictest vigilance must be used in regard to the countess, especially while you are away from the castle, and that your visit to the city should be made with the greatest secrecy."

"He told you nothing more of what he had discovered?"

"No more than I say. But I gathered his meaning to be that an attempt of some kind is imminent to get the countess out of our hands here."

This was likely enough, but I did not take so serious a view of the matter as Praga, because I felt that when I had explained our movements to Baron Heckscher he would be almost sure to select the moment when the thing could apparently be done with the least risk of discovery, and that would be at the last moment, when Minna returned from the palace after the reception.

At the same time I would go to Munich. I had already planned to go there on the following day in any event, and had announced my intention; but I settled to start at once. I sent for von Krugen and told him, charging him to keep the strictest watch over Minna; and after a very brief interview with her, in which she showed the liveliest concern for my safety, mingled, as it pleased me to think, with regret at our separation, I started with Steinitz on what I knew might be a critical expedition.