And then—­there was a crunch on the gravel behind us.  The Princess and I turned in dismay.  We had forgotten all about the anonymous note.  Two officers were approaching us, and rapidly.  The elder of the two came straight to me.  I knew him to be as inexorable as his former master, the victor of Sedan.  The Princess looked on mechanically.

“Come,” said the Count, in broken English; “I believe your carriage is at the gate.”

I glanced at the Princess.  She might have been of stone, for all the life she exhibited.

“Come; the comedy is a poor one,” said the Count.

I followed him out of the garden.  My indifference to personal safety was due to a numbness which had taken hold of me.

“Get in,” he said, when we reached the carriage.  I did so, and he got in after me.  The driver appeared confused.  It was not his fare, according to the agreement.  “To the city,” he was briefly told.  “Your hotel?” turning to me.  I named it.  “Do you understand German?”

“But indifferently,” I answered listlessly.

“It appears that you understand neither the language nor the people.  Who are you?”

“That is my concern,” I retorted.  I was coming about, and not unnaturally became vicious.

“It concerns me also,” was the gruff reply.

“Have your own way about it.”

“How came you by that medal?” pointing to my breast.

“Honestly,” said I.

“Honestly or dishonestly, it is all the same.”  He made a move to detach it, and I caught his hand.

“Please don’t do that.  I am extremely irritable; and I might throw you out of the window.  I can get back to my hotel without guidance.”

“I am going to see you to your lodgings,” asserted the Count, rubbing his wrist, for I had put some power into my grasp.

“Still, I might take it into my head to throw you out.”

“You’d better not try.”

“Are you afraid?”

“Yes.  There would be a scandal.  Not that I would care about the death of a miserable adventurer, but it might possibly reflect upon the virtue of her Highness the Princess Hildegarde.”

“What do you want?” I growled.

“I want to see if your passports are proper so that you will have no difficulty in passing over the frontier.”

“Perhaps it would be just as well to wake the American Minister?” I suggested.

“Not at all.  If you were found dead there might be a possibility of that.  But I should explain to him, and he would understand that it was a case without diplomatic precedent.”

“Well?”

“You are to leave this country at once, sir; that is, if you place any value upon your life.”

“Oh; then it is really serious?”

“Very.  It is a matter of life and death—­to you.  Moreover, you must never enter this country again.  If you do, I will not give a pfennig for your life.”