’I confess that for two hours after your departure I lay in bed in no small trepidation, thinking whether His Majesty might have a fancy to send me to Spandau, for the freak of which we had both been guilty.  But in that case I had taken my precautions:  I had written a statement of the case to my chief, the Austrian Minister, with the full and true story how you had been set to spy upon me, how you turned out to be my very near relative, how you had been kidnapped yourself into the service, and how we both had determined to effect your escape.  The laugh would have been so much against the King, that he never would have dared to lay a finger upon me.  What would Monsieur de Voltaire have said to such an act of tyranny?  But it was a lucky day, and everything has turned out to my wish.  As I lay in my bed two and a half hours after your departure, in comes your ex-Captain Potzdorff.  “Redmont!” says he, in his imperious High-Dutch way, “are you there?” No answer.  “The rogue is gone out,” said he; and straightway makes for my red box where I keep my love-letters, my glass eye which I used to wear, my favourite lucky dice with which I threw the thirteen mains at Prague; my two sets of Paris teeth, and my other private matters that you know of.

’He first tried a bunch of keys, but none of them would fit the little English lock.  Then my gentleman takes out of his pocket a chisel and hammer, and falls to work like a professional burglar, actually bursting open my little box!

’Now was my time to act.  I advance towards him armed with an immense water-jug.  I come noiselessly up to him just as he had broken the box, and with all my might I deal him such a blow over the head as smashes the water-jug to atoms, and sends my captain with a snort lifeless to the ground.  I thought I had killed him.

’Then I ring all the bells in the house; and shout and swear and scream, “Thieves!—­thieves!—­landlord!—­murder!—­fire!” until the whole household come tumbling up the stairs.  “Where is my servant?” roar I.  “Who dares to rob me in open day?  Look at the villain whom I find in the act of breaking my chest open!  Send for the police, send for his Excellency the Austrian Minister! all Europe shall know of this insult!”

’"Dear Heaven!” says the landlord, “we saw you go away three hours ago!”

’"Me!” says I; “why, man, I have been in bed all the morning.  I am ill—­I have taken physic—­I have not left the house this morning!  Where is that scoundrel Ambrose?  But, stop! where are my clothes and wig?” for I was standing before them in my chamber-gown and stockings, with my nightcap on.

’"I have it—­I have it!” says a little chambermaid:  “Ambrose is off in your honour’s dress.”

’"And my money—­my money!” says I; “where is my purse with forty-eight Frederics in it?  But we have one of the villains left.  Officers, seize him!”

’"It’s the young Herr von Potzdorff!” says the landlord, more and more astonished.