“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“Which is punishable by long imprisonment?”

The innkeeper bent his head.

“What have you to say in your defense?”

“Nothing,” tranquilly meeting the frowning eyes of the King.

“What was your object in defrauding the Princess—­” the Chancellor opened one of the documents which lay before him—­“the Princess Elizabeth of her rights?”

“I desired the Princess Hildegarde to possess all,” was the answer.  It was also a challenge to the Prince to refute the answer if he dared.  “I acknowledge that I have committed a crime.  I submit to His Majesty’s will,” bowing reverentially.

The King was stroking his chin, a sign of deep meditation in him.

“Let Their Highnesses be brought in,” he said at last.

The Chancellor rose and passed into the anteroom.  Shortly he returned, followed by Gretchen.  I could see by the expression in her face that she was mystified by the proceeding.

“Her Highness the Princess Elizabeth is just leaving the carriage,” announced the Chancellor, retiring again.

Gretchen looked first at the King, then at the Prince.  As she saw the innkeeper, a wave of astonishment rippled over her face.

“Be seated, Your Highness,” said the King, kindly.

She knew that I was in the room, but her eyes never left the King.

The Prince was plucking at his imperial.  The innkeeper’s eyes were riveted on the door.  He was waiting for the appearance of her whom he had wronged.  Presently Phyllis came in.  Her cheeks were red, and her eyes sparkled with excitement.  Wentworth nodded reassuringly.  The innkeeper was like one stricken dumb.  He stared at Phyllis till I thought his eyes would start from their sockets.

“Your Majesty has summoned me?” said Gretchen.

“Yes.  Explain,” said the King to the Chancellor.

“Your Highness,” began the Chancellor, “it has been proved by these papers here and by that man there,” pointing to the innkeeper, “that your mother of lamented memory gave birth to twins.  One is yourself; the other was spirited away at the request of your mother.  We shall pass over her reasons.  It was all due to the efforts of this clever journalist here—­” Gretchen was compelled to look at me now, while the King frowned and the Prince smiled—­“that your sister has been found.”

Gretchen gave a cry and started to go to Phyllis with outstretched arms; but as Phyllis stood motionless she stopped, and her arms fell.

“Your Highness,” said the King to Phyllis, “it is your sister, the Princess Hildegarde.  Embrace her, I beg you.”

The King willed it.  But it occurred to me that there was a warmth lacking in the embrace.  Gretchen lightly brushed with her lips the cheek of her sister, and the kiss was as lightly returned.  There was something about it all we men failed to understand.