Cousin Fritz chuckled silently. Then he answered in low, rasping tones:
“Von Reibach is a ruined man. He has lost his all at poker, and fears to face his creditors.”
“And Baron Wollenstein?”
“Oh, Wollenstein,” answered the dwarf, “Wollenstein is in love with the Princess Hilda.”
“The devil you say!” muttered Bennett profanely. Suddenly he seized the dwarf’s hand in a grip of iron.
“Tell me, man, why do you leave us here at this time?”
Cousin Fritz uttered an exclamation of anger, and attempted to withdraw his hand from the American’s grip.
“Gott im Himmel, Herr Bennett, why do you distrust me?” he asked petulantly. “You’re the shortest-sighted clever man I ever knew. I’m about to run some risk, if you must know it, in order to bring back a waiting-woman for the princess. I made a miscalculation, and must atone for it. Are you satisfied?”
A hot flush rose to Bennett’s cheeks, who felt ashamed of the injustice he had done to the loyal little man at his side.