an who is old
enough to be her grandfather. She holds him in horror, and will go to
any length to make this marriage an impossibility. For my part, I have
tried to convince her of the futility of resisting her royal uncle's
will." (Sensible little Britisher!) "What she is about to do will be
known only to four persons, one of whom is a downright rascal."

"A rascal?" slipped my lips, half-unconsciously. "I trust that I
haven't given you that impression," I added eagerly. (A rascal? The
plot was thickening to formidable opaqueness.)

"No, no!" she cried hastily, with a flash of summer on her lips. (What
is more charming than an English woman with a clear sense of the
humorous?) "You haven't given me that impression at all."

"Thank you." My vanity expanded under the genial warmth of this
knowledge. It was quite possible that she looked upon me favorably.

"To proceed. There is to be a kind of mock marriage here to-night, and
you are to witness it." She watched me sharply.

I frowned.

"Patience! Not literally a mock marriage, but the filling out of a
bogus certificate."

"I do not understand at all."

"You have heard of Hermann Steinbock, a cashiered officer?"

"Yes. I understand that he is the rascal to whom you refer."

"Well, this certificate is to be filled out completely. To outwit the
duke, her Highness commits--"

"A forgery."

"It is a terrible thing to do, but she has gone too far to withdraw
now. She is to become the wife of Hermann Steinbock. She wishes to
show the certificate to the duke."

"But the banns have not been made public."

"That does not matter."

"But why detain me?" I was growing restless. It was all folly, and no
good would come of it.

"It is necessary that a gentleman should be present. The caretaker is
not a gentleman. I have said that Steinbock is a rascal. As I review
the events, I begin to look upon your arrival as timely. Steinbock is
not a reliable quantity."

"I begin to perceive."

"He is to receive one thousand crowns for his part in the ceremony;
then he is to leave the country."

"But the priest's signature, the notary's seal, the iron-clad
formalities which attend all these things!" I stammered.

"You will recollect that her Highness is a princess of the blood.
Seldom is she refused anything in Barscheit." She went to a small
secretary and produced a certificate, duly sealed and signed. There
lacked nothing but Steinbock's name.