“Where is this Dr. Salzberg?”

The innkeeper leaned against the side of the fireplace, staring into the flames.

“He is dead,” briefly.

“Who was he?”

“Her late Highness’s court-physician.  Oh, have no fear, Herr; this new-found Princess of yours will come into her own,” with a bitter smile.

“And why have you kept silent all these years?” I asked.

“Why?” He raised his arms, then let them fall dejectedly.  “I loved the Princess Hildegarde.  I was jealous that any should share her greatness.  I have kept silent because I carried her in my arms till she could walk.  Because her father cursed her, and refused to believe her his own.  Because she grew around my heart as a vine grows around a rugged oak.  And the other?  She was nothing to me.  I had never seen her.  My wife spirited her away when it was night and dark.  I took the proofs of her existence as a punishment to my wife, who, without them, would never dare to return to this country again.  Herr, when a man loads you with ignominy and contempt and ridicule for something you are not to blame, what do you seek?  Revenge.  The Prince tried to crush this lonely child of his.  It was I who brought her up.  It was I who taught her to say her prayers.  It was I who made her what she is to-day, a noble woman, with a soul as spotless as yonder snowdrift.  That was my revenge.”

“Who are you?” I cried.  For this innkeeper’s affection and eloquence seemed out of place.

“Who am I?” The smile which lit his face was wistful and sad.  “The law of man disavows me—­the bar sinister.  In the eyes of God, who is accountable for our being, I am Gretchen’s uncle, her father’s brother.”

“You?” I was astounded.

“And who knows of this?”

“The King, the Prince—­and you.”

I thrust a hand toward him.  “You are a man.”

“Wait.  Swear to God that Her Highness shall never know.”

“On my honor.”

Then he accepted my clasp and looked straight into my eyes.

“And all this to you?”

“I love her.”

“And she?”

“It is mutual.  Do you suppose she would have put her life before mine if not?  She knew that the lieutenant would have killed me.”

“Ach!  It never occurred to me in that light.  I understood it to be a frolic of hers.  Will you make her happy?”

“If an honest man’s love can do it,” said I.  “Now, get on your hat and coat.  You must go to the capital with me.  The King would send for you in any case.  The next train leaves at five, and to save Gretchen, these proofs must be in the Chancellor’s hands to-morrow morning.”

“Yes, my presence will be necessary.  Perhaps I have committed a crime; who knows?” His head fell in meditation.  “Herr, and this other sister, has she been happy?”

“Happier than ever Gretchen.”