With the carriage following him, he walked round The Castle to the galleries and entered. No one was there; he opened the box, drew out a small paper: “I am a prisoner; my uncle knows. My maid, Ernestine Wundsch, lives in Emperor Ferdinand Second Street, No. 643—over the bake-shop. I love you; be careful for my sake. When I escape I shall go to Schaffhausen.”
He thrust the note into his pocket and came out of the alcove into which he had withdrawn to make sure of not being spied upon. Ten minutes passed before the Grand Duke came in. “Pardon my tardiness,” he said, politely. Grafton noted a malicious twinkle in his eyes. “I was arranging the marriage of my son and my niece. The days of romance are not dead. After their little misunderstanding yesterday, they made it up and—how hot young blood is!—they were all for marrying at once. I hadn’t the heart to refuse them. But—to our little affair.”
“I’ve decided not to part with my Rembrandts,” said Grafton. His head was in a whirl. Beneath a fairly composed exterior mad impulses to strangle, to kill, to fight his way to her and bear her off were raging.
“Ah! I regret it. And when do you leave us? That devil, von Moltzahn, is a dangerous fellow. I’m having my police guard you. No; don’t thank me. It’s no trouble, I assure you. You had a pleasant little talk on law with Fogel this morning; he was most enthusiastic over your eagerness to learn; he was talking with one of my secret police about it. I’m sorry you have decided to leave us so soon—to-night, I think you were saying yesterday? And if you change your mind about the Rembrandts, you know I’m always willing to listen to any reasonable terms.”
The Grand Duke bowed him out, but did not offer to shake hands. Grafton entered his carriage and was driven rapidly away, an officer in a plain uniform following him. As soon as Grafton saw it, he drew the silver box from his pocket, took out the note, read it until he had it by heart, then put it in his mouth and swallowed it. He waited until the road wound close to the edge of the lake. He looked back; the officer could not see him. He tossed the little box into the lake.
At the park gates the carriage was halted. The officer came up, several others appeared from the lodge, including one who seemed to be of high rank. They were most polite, most apologetic, but they took him into the lodge and searched him thoroughly. And when he went on to town it was in another carriage.
The proprietor was waiting for him. “I regret exceedingly, sir,” he said, in a frightened, deprecating voice, “but your rooms are taken from ten o’clock to-morrow.”
“That will be satisfactory to me,” replied Grafton. “I shall leave to-night or early in the morning.”
“Thank you, Highness.” The proprietor bowed low and beamed gratitude and relief.