My companion mused for a few seconds, then—
"I had better give you the whole story," he said, and commenced as follows:—
"My name is Von Bieberstein, at one time equerry to Her Serene Highness the Princess Elsa, Hereditary Princess of Schwannenwald, but I was dismissed from her service through the machinations and false representations of her enemies and mine, though God knows Her Highness has no truer servant than I.
"She is the younger of the two ladies you have seen; the elder is Her Highness's first cousin, the Grand Duchess Hedwig, also of Schwannenwald, and heir after her cousin in the direct line to the throne of Schwannenwald. She is an ambitious woman, and a fiend incarnate, and as wicked as she is beautiful. The man with the scar was her equerry, Von Zahn, and the two combined are as unscrupulous and as dangerous a couple as you could find."
"'SHE IS IN DANGER,' HE HISSED."
"But, man," I broke in, "we are in London, and in the nineteenth century. You cannot imagine Her Highness's life to be in danger."
"No, I don't," he answered, grimly, "I know it. Do you suppose crowns are less valuable now than in the seventeenth century, or that when a throne is at stake our boasted civilisation does not peel off as easily as an old glove? It was a glimmering of this plot that cost me my place, and almost my life."
As he spoke he bared his chest, and showed me the small round white scar of a bullet wound. "Fired, if not by the Grand Duchess's finger, at least by her direction," he said, with a grim smile. "But the question is, will you help me?"
"I am a total stranger to you," I commenced, "and——"