“You are a Protestant, and you say you are a skeptic. Curious—only you saw the apparition—it was revealed to no one else?”
“Then your Majesty is of the opinion that this is actually a case of a spectral apparition?”
“Certainly. It seems much more plausible than open theft. This very cross I myself—”
He interrupted his sentence as he turned to the door, through which, with profound obeisances, entered two ladies in waiting—probably the queen’s. His Majesty addressed one of them in French, no doubt to enable me to participate in the conversation:
“You were present, Madame M., when Princess A. was laid in her coffin seventeen years ago?”
A low curtsey was the affirmative reply.
“And you also, Madame U.?”
“I had the honor, your Majesty, of rendering her royal highness the last earthly services.”
“You remember perfectly what dress the deceased was buried in?”
“Quite well, your Majesty. It was the regular dress of the Order of Gray Sisters, of which her royal highness was a member.”