“There was some writing found on him, but it was of no consequence, nor what he told by word of mouth either.  Now the Herr Captain wants to know whether he shall send the prisoner here, or to headquarters, for he thinks there is more in the papers than meets the eye.”

There was nothing uncommon in this message.  Suspicious characters were arrested daily, particularly from the relief corps, but Prince Adelsberg hesitated, as if he feared the sound of his own voice, then he gave the answer: 

“Tell the Herr Captain to send the prisoner here.  We relieve the guard in two hours, and he can be taken on to headquarters at once.”

“I hope we can make the churl say something,” said Walldorf.  “Many a coward loses his hold when he knows there’s a court martial ahead of him.  Well, we’ll see.”

The soldier stood waiting for his dismissal; not a muscle of his face moved, but he never lifted his eyes.  Egon had recovered himself now, and he asked, in his coldest, most distant tones: 

“You belong to the seventh regiment?”

“At your service, Herr lieutenant.”

“Your name?”

“Joseph Tanner.”

“Forced into service?”

“No, a volunteer.”

“Since when?”

“Since the thirtieth of July.”

“You have been through the whole campaign?”

“At your service, Herr lieutenant.”

“Very well.  You can take my message to the Captain.”

The soldier saluted and left the room.  Walldorf had been a little surprised at this examination, but gave no second thought to it.  He looked after the retreating figure and said as he shrugged his shoulders:  “The men on Chapel hill have the devil’s own time.  They have no rest day or night, and have to exert themselves to the utmost.  The poor fellows have to work in the hard frozen trenches until the sweat runs from their faces and their hands are covered with blood.  Fighting is the only relief they get.”

He stepped into another room to order the watch for the expected prisoner, and to make some additional arrangements.  Egon threw open the window and leaned out—­he felt he was suffocating.  Then he heard Stadinger’s voice behind him in a half-whisper as though he were too frightened to speak out loud.

“Your highness!”

“What is it?” the prince answered without turning around.

“But didn’t your highness see—?”

“See what?”

“The orderly, who was just here—­that was Herr Rojanow, as sure as he lives and breathes.”

Egon saw that presence of mind was necessary here; he turned and said coldly:  “I believe you see ghosts!”

“But, your highness—­”

“Nonsense! only a passing resemblance.  I noticed it myself.  That’s why I asked the man his name.  You heard him say his name was Tanner!”

“Yes, but it was Herr Rojanow for all that,” said Stadinger, whose sharp eyes were not to be deceived.  “To be sure the black locks were gone, and the proud, independent manner, but his voice was, the same!”