“Oh no; I encountered the good Father on the bridge.”
“There now!” exclaimed the Archbishop, “what do you say to that, my lady?”
She seemed perplexed by the admission, but quickly replied to his Lordship:
“‘Twas you said that could not be, as he was a close prisoner in Ehrenfels.” She continued, addressing the Prince: “Father Ambrose asserted that you were a companion of drinkers and brawlers in a low wine cellar of Frankfort.”
“Quite true; a score of them.”
The girl became more and more perplexed.
“Did you imprison Father Ambrose?”
“Yes; in the lowest wine cellar, but only for a day or two. I am very sorry, Madam, but it was a stern necessity of war. He was meddling with affairs he knew nothing of, and there was no time for explanations. He, a man of peace, would not have sanctioned what there was to do even if I had explained.”
“He says,” continued the girl, “that he saw you rob a merchant of a bag of gold.”
“That is untrue!” cried the Prince.