“At Camaldoli, a health resort in central Italy. The Ambassador and several of the staff are spending the summer up there.”
“Well, what else do you know?” the King asked, fixing his eyes upon the crafty old scoundrel who was the greatest power in the Kingdom. “Can you tell me where my wife is—that’s the question? I don’t think much of your secret service which costs the country so much, if you cannot tell me that,” he said frankly.
“Yes, your Majesty, I can tell you that, and very much more,” the old fellow answered, quite unperturbed. “The truth is that I have known where she has been for a long time past, and a great deal has been discovered. Yet, for your Majesty’s peace of mind, I have not mentioned so painful a subject. Had I not exerted every effort to follow the Princess I should surely have been wanting in my duties as Minister.”
“Then where is she?” he asked quickly, rising from his chair.
“In England—at a small watering-place on the South Coast, called Worthing.”
“Well—and what else?”
Heinrich Hinckeldeym made no reply for a few moments, as though hesitating to tell his royal master all that he knew. Then at last he said, with that wily insinuation by which he had already ruined the poor Princess’s reputation and good name,—
“The rest will, I think, best be furnished to the counsel who appears on your Majesty’s behalf to apply for a divorce.”
“Ah!” he sighed sadly. “Is it so grave as that? Well, Hinckeldeym, you may tell me everything, only recollect I must have proof—proof. You understand?” he added hoarsely.
“Hitherto I have always endeavoured to give your Majesty proof, and on certain occasions you have complimented me upon my success in discovering the secrets of the pair,” he answered.