“And it might give even Prince Karl trouble to answer questions why she is here.”

John’s pulses began to beat heavily despite all his efforts at calmness and he turned his face away that they might not see the eager light in his eyes.  When he had mastered himself sufficiently to use a quiet voice he asked: 

“When is this great council of which you speak?”

“In three or four days,” replied Ilse.  “We hear that many Serene Highnesses are coming from both Berlin and Vienna.”

“And the French girl is to be carried away before they come?”

“She goes the day after tomorrow with the dark woman, Suzanne, to the hunting lodge of His Highness, higher in the mountains.”

Then with a frightened gesture she clapped her hand upon her mouth.

“You will say nothing of it, Herr Johann?” she pleaded.  “It is a secret from all but a few, and His Highness doubtless would punish us terribly if he knew that we told.”

“You can trust me, Ilse,” said John earnestly.  “I would not bring trouble upon you or Olga.  Besides, what is it to me?”

He sought by indirect questions to learn more from them, but they would not continue, seeming to be afraid that they had already said too much.  Then he turned casually from the subject, lest he rouse suspicion, and spoke of his horses.  But all the while he was searching his mind, as one looks for a treasure, to discover how he could follow Julie and Suzanne to their new abode.

He gathered from Walther that the hunting lodge was higher in the mountains in the depths of a great forest, about six leagues from Zillenstein where there was much big game.  In times of peace the prince frequently went there, and a good automobile road led to the lodge, although in winter the snow was often so deep that the place was inaccessible.

Late that afternoon the hoofs of horses beat steadily on the road leading from the valley up to Zillenstein.  John from a coign of vantage saw approaching a young man in a gray German uniform, followed by four hussars, also in German gray.  Anyone who came to Zillenstein was of interest, and as John looked the leading figure became familiar.  Doubt soon changed to certainty.  He knew the swing of the broad shoulders and the high pose of the head.  It was the young prince, von Arnheim.

“And so they all gather,” said John to himself.

He was swept by the little shiver that one often feels when influenced suddenly by a powerful emotion.  Fate or chance had a wonderful way of bringing about strange things.  He had seen it too often not to know.  He was sure in his heart now that von Boehlen too would come some time and somehow.

He looked at the terrace.  Julie and Suzanne had appeared there in the last few minutes, and they were gazing at the gallant figure of young von Arnheim who was now so near.  The prince himself, when he saw Julie, sprang from his horse, ran lightly up the steps, and bending low over her hand, kissed it.  Nor did John feel jealousy or hate of him.