“A lady of the family of Prince Karl of Auersperg, on her way to Trieste.  She wishes a room, the very best room you have, to which she can retire with her maid and seek the rest she so badly needs after her long journey over bad roads.”

The good Herr Leinfelder bowed low.  John’s manner impressed him.  It was a perfect reproduction of the style affected by the flunkies of the great.

“We have a splendid chamber for the princess and a smaller one adjoining for her maid,” said the host.  “It’s an honor to Tellnitz and to me that a lady of the house of Auersperg should stop at my inn.  The prince himself, we hear, has returned to the great war.”

“Ah!” said John, but there was immense satisfaction under the subdued “ah” over the important information coming to him by mere chance.  He opened the door for Julie and Suzanne to alight, and still heavily muffled they were bowed into the house by Herr Leinfelder.

“I shall be on guard tonight,” whispered John to Julie, as she passed.  “Did you hear him say that the Prince of Auersperg had gone back to the war?”

She nodded as she disappeared into the interior of the inn, and he knew that a weight had been lifted from her heart also.  The pursuit surely could not be so fierce and lasting when the one who gave it impulse was gone.

There was a small garage behind the inn, and the great automobile almost filled it, but John, clinging to his role of chauffeur, which was expedient in every sense, would not trust it to any of the servants of the hotel.  He inspected it carefully himself, saw that everything was in proper order, and not until then did he enter the inn in search of food and fire.

“My mistress?” he asked of August, the head waiter.  “Has she been properly served?  His Highness, Prince Karl of Auersperg, will not forget it if a lady of his family does not receive the deference due to her.”

“Dinner has just been served to the princess,” said August, deferentially, as the chauffeur’s tone had been peremptory.  “I return in a moment myself to see that every detail is attended to properly.”

“Then look to it,” said John, as he slipped a five-kronen piece into his hand, “and see also that she is not disturbed afterward.  Her Highness wishes a good night’s rest.”

August bowed low with gratitude and hurried away to do his commission.  John himself, as a man who carried gold, was treated with deference, and he had an excellent dinner in a dining-room that contained but three or four other guests.  Here in accordance with his plan he talked rather freely with Herr Leinfelder, and the few servants that the war had left him.

He enlarged upon the greatness of Prince Karl of Auersperg and the ancient grandeur of his Castle of Zillenstein.  He referred vaguely to the young princess whom he escorted as a cousin or a niece, and spoke complacently because he had been assigned to the important duty of taking her to Trieste.  There was need of haste, too.  He knew his orders, and he would start in the morning at the very first breath of dawn.  He was also empowered, if necessary, to fight for her safety.  The rifles and pistols in the automobile were sufficient proof of it, and he had been trained to shoot by the Prince’s head forester, Muller.