“So be it,” said the count, cordially pressing in his own Kraus’ extended hand.  “Go to Totis:  I will go to Genoa, to await my prisoner there.”

With the same hasty steps as he had come, Commissioner Kraus again hastened down the steps, and once more plunged into the tumult of the street.  After a short walk, he again entered a house and ascended the stairs to a door in the fourth story beside which, in a rush-bottomed chair, sat a servant, with his head bowed on his breast, sleeping peacefully.

Baron von Moudenfels or Commissioner Kraus tapped the slumberer lightly on the shoulder.

“Wake up and open the door, Peter!” he said.

The man started up and stared at the person standing before him with dilated eyes.

“Who are you, sir, and what do you want of me?” he exclaimed sulkily.

“Then you don’t know me?” asked Kraus, smiling.  “Must I tell you that I am your master?”

“Herr Baron!  Is it you?  Is it possible that it’s you; that anybody can disguise himself so—­and—­”

“Hush! you know that you are not to wonder at anything, and must always be prepared to see me in any disguise.  True, I should have expected that you would recognize your master’s voice.”

“I beg your pardon, sir; I was so very sound asleep.  I didn’t sleep all night because I was expecting you, and I’ve been on the watch all day.”

“Have many spies been here?” asked the baron as, followed by his servant, he entered his sitting-room.

“Yes, sir, they fairly besieged the door of the house and patrolled the opposite side of the street all day long.  Three times, too, gentlemen called to ask for you.  They said that they were visitors, but I think they were only spies who wanted to find out whether you were at home.”

“Well, now they can come and assure themselves that I’m here,” replied his master, stretching himself comfortably upon the sofa.  “True, it won’t last long—­we start in an hour.  Order post-horses, Peter, two post-horses and a light carriage, and pack the baggage.”

“Yes, sir!” sighed Peter.  “What clothes will you take?  Do we travel this time again as Baron von Moudenfels, and must I pack the old gentleman’s baggage as I did for the journey to Frankfort?”

“No, not as Baron von Moudenfels.  This time I shall go in my own person and under my own name.  We shall go to Totis to the camp of his majesty the emperor.  So take the court dress and everything necessary for a gentleman.  Thank heaven, I shall be rid of the tiresome wig for a few days.”

Removing the blonde wig he passed his hand through the black locks which appeared under it.

“Hurry, Peter, order post-horses and pack our clothing; we must start in an hour.”

CHAPTER VI.

THE CONSPIRACY DISCOVERED.

The festival was over, the last guests had taken leave of Baroness de Simonie, and the servants and lackeys were gliding noiselessly through the empty rooms to extinguish the lights in the chandeliers and candelabra, and here and there push the scattered pieces of furniture into place.