"Good-by," said the princess, holding out her hand.
Scharfenstein gravely bent his head and kissed it.
"Good-by, Prince Charming!" she whispered, so softly that Max scarcely heard her.
Then she entered the closed carriage and was driven up the dark, tree-enshrouded road that led to the Castle of Doppelkinn.
"What are you going to do with me?" Max asked, as he gathered up the reins of his mount.
"That we shall discuss later. Like as not something very unpleasant. For one thing you are passing under a forged passport. You are not an American, no matter how well you may speak that language. You are a German."
"There are Germans in the United States, born and bred there, who speak German tolerably well," replied Max easily. He was wondering if it would not be a good scheme to tell a straightforward story and ask to be returned to Barscheit. But that would probably appeal to the officer that he was a coward and was trying to lay the blame on the princess.
"I do not say that I can prove it," went on the colonel; "I simply affirm that you are a German, even to the marrow."
"You have the advantage of the discussion." No; he would confess nothing. If he did he might never see the princess again.… The princess! As far away as yonder stars! It was truly a very disappointing world to live in.
"Now, then, forward!" cried the colonel to his men, and they set off at a sharp trot.