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‘Is this the raving of fever, or does it come from some less innocent cause?’ said she. ‘Perhaps a little blood-letting–‘

‘Ah, you can act!’ I cried. ‘You have shown me that already.’

‘Do you mean that we have met before?’

‘I mean that you have robbed me within the last two hours.’

‘This is past all bearing,’ she cried, with an admirable affectation of anger. ‘You claim, as I understand, to be an ambassador, but there are limits to the privileges which such an office brings with it.’

‘You brazen it admirably,’ said I. ‘Your Highness will not make a fool of me twice in one night.’ I sprang forward and, stooping down, caught up the hem of her dress. ‘You would have done well to change it after you had ridden so far and so fast,’ said I.

It was like the dawn upon a snow-peak to see her ivory cheeks flush suddenly to crimson.

‘Insolent!’ she cried. ‘Call the foresters and have him thrust from the palace’

‘I will see the Prince first.’

‘You will never see the Prince. Ah! Hold him, Von Rosen, hold him.’

She had forgotten the man with whom she had to deal–was it likely that I would wait until they could bring their rascals? She had shown me her cards too soon. Her game was to stand between me and her husband. Mine was to speak face to face with him at any cost. One spring took me out of the chamber. In another I had crossed the hall. An instant later I had burst into the great room from which the murmur of the meeting had come. At the far end I saw a figure upon a high chair under a dais. Beneath him was a line of high dignitaries, and then on every side I saw vaguely the heads of a vast assembly. Into the centre of the room I strode, my sabre clanking, my shako under my arm.

‘I am the messenger of the Emperor,’ I shouted. ‘I bear his message to His Highness the Prince of Saxe-Felstein.’

The man beneath the dais raised his head, and I saw that his face was thin and wan, and that his back was bowed as though some huge burden was balanced between his shoulders.

‘Your name, sir?’ he asked.

‘Colonel Etienne Gerard, of the Third Hussars.’

Every face in the gathering was turned upon me, and I heard the rustle of the innumerable necks and saw countless eyes without meeting one friendly one amongst them. The woman had swept past me, and was whispering, with many shakes of her head and dartings of her hands, into the Prince’s ear. For my own part I threw out my chest and curled my moustache, glancing round in my own debonair fashion at the assembly. They were men, all of them, professors from the college, a sprinkling of their students, soldiers, gentlemen, artisans, all very silent and serious. In one corner there sat a group of men in black, with riding-coats drawn over their shoulders. They leaned their heads to each other, whispering under their breath, and with every movement I caught the clank of their sabres or the clink of their spurs.

‘The Emperor’s private letter to me informs me that it is the Marquis Chateau St Arnaud who is bearing his despatches,’ said the Prince.

‘The Marquis has been foully murdered,’ I answered, and a buzz rose up from the people as I spoke. Many heads were turned, I noticed, towards the dark men in the cloaks.

‘Where are your papers?’ asked the Prince.

‘I have none.’

A fierce clamour rose instantly around me. ‘He is a spy! He plays a part!’ they cried. ‘Hang him!’ roared a deep voice from the corner, and a dozen others took up the shout. For my part, I drew out my handkerchief and nicked the dust from the fur of my pelisse. The Prince held out his thin hands, and the tumult died away.

‘Where, then, are your credentials, and what is your message?’