Carl Eingen remained silent, but he could not suppress a smile as the ludicrous features of the situation impressed him. Suddenly the dwarf’s mood changed.
“You’re a good fellow, Carl Eingen, in spite of your rebellious nature,” he said gently. “I don’t believe you’d murder me in cold blood. That’s more than I could say of several men I know. As times go, Carl, it’s high praise.”
“I think, Cousin Fritz,” said Carl quietly, “that you’d better come with me without more ado. You’re sure to be captured down here and you might be run to earth by somebody who would think it less trouble to take you dead than alive. I promise you that I’ll do my best to make easy terms for you with the king.”
“What king, Carl?” asked the dwarf mockingly. “You may not know it, but I am the real, the only king of Hesse-Heilfels. In the long run I dictate my own terms—and they are always accepted, Carl Eingen. Do you call Brother Wilhelm king? Nonsense! He’s only an upstart who struts about up above for a time and then falls to sleep like the rest. Hesse-Heilfels has only one king—and he never dies. But enough of this, Carl! I won’t come to you and you can’t capture me. Nevertheless, I prefer you as an ally to a foe. I’ll make you a proposition.”
Carl Eingen frowned and strode nervously up and down, almost within reach of the dwarf’s pointed shoes. He felt absurdly conscious of his momentary impotence. He was keenly alive to the possibility that he would be obliged to return to Wilhelm and confess that he had been outwitted by the dwarf. Furthermore, Cousin Fritz was in possession of a secret that Carl Eingen longed to solve. Upon the hogshead above him sat the captor of Fraulein Müller, and her lover burned to get word of her. He knew, right well, that only by diplomacy could he make Cousin Fritz reveal the truth concerning her abduction.
“Go on,” said Carl smoothly, “let me hear your proposition, Cousin Fritz.”
The dwarf chuckled with inward merriment. Then he bent forward, his hand still upon his sword, and said:
“You think me mad, Carl Eingen, but you’d do well to back my hand at this crisis in the game. In this case one king beats a royal flush. I’m the king, and I know my power. Let me tell you, Carl Eingen, that you will never see again a face that you love nor hear a voice that has grown dear to you unless you heed what I shall say. It has come to a contest between your loyalty and your love. If you remain true to Wilhelm, you will be false to your love. If you place your mistress above your king in your heart, you must forswear Wilhelm. Do you follow me?”
There was a sane intensity in the dwarf’s manner that Carl Eingen had never observed before. It impressed him even more than the madcap’s words.
“And if I abandon Wilhelm, Cousin Fritz?” asked Carl earnestly.