A slight warmth came into my cheeks.
"Your Excellency understands that a journalist always takes great interest in affairs of this sort," was my rejoinder.
"Yes, yes!" pleasantly. "But this so-called sister; has she not lived most of her life in America, your own country?"
"Your Excellency," said I, honestly, "whether she regains her own or not is immaterial to me, from a personal standpoint."
"Well, one way or the other, I shall decide what to do to-night. But, mind you, there must be proofs. Though they may look enough alike to be two peas in a pod, that will give your friend nothing you claim for her. The fate of your Princess rests in the hands of Herr Wentworth. Have the two met?"
"No; but during the short time they have been in the city they have been mistaken for each other. And why do you call her my Princess?"
"She is not ours yet. It was a strange story, as I remember it. In those days we had our doubts, as we still have, of another child. By the way, who suggested the matter to you?"
I recounted my interview with the Prince.
"Ah," said the Chancellor; "so it was he? He is a greedy fellow and careful. I can readily understand his object. He wants all or nothing. I shall help you all I can," he concluded, as I reached for my hat.
"I ask nothing more," I replied; and then I passed from the cabinet into the crowded anteroom. It was filled with diplomats and soldiers, each waiting for an audience. They eyed me curiously and perhaps enviously as I made my way to the street. "Yes, indeed, what will the King say?" I mused on the way back to my rooms. What could he say?