Then all at once came the clinching remembrance that when the Electors were appealed to on behalf of the young Prince, the three Archbishops had promptly seized his Royal Highness, and, in spite of the pleadings of the Empress (the Emperor was drunk and indifferent) placed him in the custody of the Archbishop nearest to Frankfort, the warrior prelate of Mayence, who imprisoned him in the strong fortress of Ehrenfels, from which, well guarded and isolated as it was upon a crag over-hanging the Rhine, no man could escape.

“Will you kindly be seated again, sir,” requested the merchant, and if he had spoken a short time before, he would have put the phrase “your Royal Highness” in the place of the word “sir.”

Roland, after a moment’s hesitation, sat down.  He saw that his coup had failed, because he was unable to back it up by proofs.  His dramatic action had been like a brilliant cavalry charge, for a moment successful, but coming to naught because there was no solid infantry to turn the temporary confusion of the enemy into complete rout.  Realizing that the battle must be fought over again, the Prince sat back with a sigh of disappointment, a shade of discontent on his handsome face.

“I find myself in rather a quandary,” proceeded the merchant.  “If indeed you are the Emperor’s son, it is not for such as I to cross-examine you.”

“Ask me any questions you like, sir.  I shall answer them promptly enough.”

“If I beg you to supply proof of the statement you make, you would be likely to reply that as you dared not enter your father’s Palace, you are unable to furnish me with corroboration.”

“Sir, you put the case in better language than I could employ.  In more halting terms that is what I should have said.”

“When were you last in the Palace?”

“About the same time, sir, that you took up your residence in prison.”

“Ah, yes; that naturally would be your answer.  Now, my young friend, you have shown me that you know nothing of mercantile practice; therefore it may perhaps interest you if I explain some of our methods.”

“Herr Goebel, you may save your breath.  Such a recital must not only fail to interest me, but will bore me extremely.  I care nothing for your mercantile procedure, and, to be quite plain with you, I despise your trade, and find some difficulty in repressing my contempt for those who practice it.”

“If an emissary of mine,” returned Goebel, unperturbed, “approached a client or customer for the purpose of obtaining a favor, and used as little tact as you do, I should dismiss him.”

“I’m not asking any favors from you.”

“You wish me to hand over to you a thousand thalers, otherwise why came you here?”