Wilhelm’s face, pale and drawn from the stress of an exciting night, wore a smile of triumph as he looked forth upon the picturesque domain that he had so easily made his own. Backed by the people of Hesse-Heilfels, and sure of recognition at Berlin, he felt that he was safely seated upon a throne that he had long wished to occupy. Presently he turned from the window, and beckoned to a man who had recently entered the room and stood awaiting the pleasure of royalty.
“What news, Herr Schmidt?” asked Wilhelm eagerly, “is there any clew to my lost relatives? My brother can’t perform miracles. He must be concealed somewhere in the castle.”
“We have searched the building from top to bottom, your majesty, but can find no trace of Rudolph, the Princess, nor the Yankee. But a strange story has come from the Princess Hilda’s waiting-women. How much truth there is in it, I do not know.”
“We’ll find out at first hand,” said King Wilhelm, seating himself in a chair by the side of a small round table. “Summon all her women to my presence.”
Herr Schmidt hurried from the room.
“Carl Eingen, a word with you,” said Wilhelm, and the handsome baritone approached the king and deferentially bent the knee.
“As I understand it,” said Wilhelm, “the capture of this American adventurer was left to you, Carl Eingen. Why did you fail to obey orders?”
The tall youth turned pale, but answered firmly:
“The failure cannot be laid at my door, your majesty. I obeyed in detail the instructions I received. The weak spot in our scheme lay in the fact that we put too little stress upon the cleverness of Cousin Fritz.”
“Cousin Fritz?” cried the king in astonishment. “The madcap dwarf? Surely he could not have foiled you all! What had he to do with the affair?”