He ran to Peter’s side, and though he attempted to speak in a whisper, so out of breath, and so filled with hysterical terror was he that his words came out in gasps that were audible to many of those who stood near by.
“Maenck is dead,” he cried. “The impostor has stolen the king.”
Peter of Blentz went white as his lieutenant. Von der Tann heard and demanded an explanation.
“You said that Leopold was dead,” he said accusingly.
Peter regained his self-control quickly.
“Coblich is excited,” he explained. “He means that the impostor has stolen the body of the king that Coblich and Maenck had discovered and were bringing to Lustadt.”
Von der Tann looked troubled.
He knew not what to make of the series of wild tales that had come to his ears within the past hour. He had hoped that the young man whom he had last seen in the king’s apartments was the true Leopold. He would have been glad to have served such a one, but there had been many inexplicable occurrences which tended to cast a doubt upon the man’s claims—and yet, had he ever claimed to be the king? It suddenly occurred to the old prince that he had not. On the contrary he had repeatedly stated to Prince Ludwig’s daughter and to Lieutenant Butzow that he was not Leopold.
It seemed that they had all been so anxious to believe him king that they had forced the false position upon him, and now if he had indeed committed the atrocity that Coblich charged against him, who could wonder? With less provocation men had before attempted to seize thrones by more dastardly means.
Peter of Blentz was speaking.