et arrests be made out, and the scent as with
sleuth-hounds be diligently followed on all sides; and Katte, stript of
his uniform, be locked up in the grimmest manner. Berlin, with the rumor
of these things, is a much-agitated city.

Chapter VIII. -- SEQUEL TO CROWN-PRINCE AND FRIENDS.

As for the Crown-Prince, prosecuting his circuitous route, he arrives
safe at Mittenwalde; is lodged in the old Castle there, I think, for two
nights (but the date, in these indexless Books, is blown away again),
in a room bare of all things, with sentries at the door; and looks out,
expecting Grumkow and the Officials to make assault on him. One of these
Officials, a certain "Gerber, Fiscal General," who, as head of Prussian
Fiscals (kind of Public Prosecutor, or supreme Essence of Bailiffs,
Catchpoles and Grand-Juries all in one), wears a red cloak,--gave the
Prince a dreadful start. Red cloak is the Berlin Hangman's or Headsman's
dress; and poor Friedrich had the idea his end had summarily come
in this manner. Soon seeing it was otherwise, his spirits recovered,
perhaps rose by the shock.

He fronted Grumkow and the Officials, with a high, almost contemptuous
look; answered promptly,--if possible, without lying, and yet without
telling anything;--showed self-possession, pride; retorted sometimes,
"Have you nothing more to ask?" Grumkow finding there was no way made
into anything, not even into the secret of the Writingcase and the Royal
Women's operations there, began at last, as Wilhelmina says, to hint,
That in his Majesty's service there were means of bringing out the truth
in spite of refractory humors; that there was a thing called the rack,
not yet abolished in his Prussian Majesty's dominions! Friedrich owned
afterwards, his blood ran cold. However, he put on a high look: "A
Hangman, such as you, naturally takes pleasure in talking of his tools
and his trade: but on me they will not produce any effect. I have owned
everything;--and almost regret to have done so. For it is not my part
to stand questionings and bandy responses with a COQUIN COMME VOUS,
scoundrel like you," reports Wilhelmina, [i. 280.] though we hope
the actual term was slightly less candid!--Grumkow gathered his notes
together; and went his ways, with the man in red cloak and the rest;
thus finishing the scene in Mittenwalde. Mittenwalde, which we used
to know long since, in our Wusterhausen rides with poor Duhan; little
thinking what awaited us there on