eginning to breathe hard. Sometimes the
snow was up to his knees. What if the old man was not there? The
blood sank upon my heart. Once the horse struck a slippery place and
nearly fell, but I caught him in time. I could now see the inn,
perhaps a mile away, through the leafless trees. It looked dismal
enough. The vines hung dead about it, the hedges were wild and
scrawny, the roses I knew to be no more, and the squirrel had left his
summer home for a warmer nest in the forest. A wave of joy swept over
me as I saw a thin stream of smoke winding above the chimney. Some one
was there. On, on; presently I flew up the roadway. A man stood on
the porch. It was Stahlberg. When I pushed down my collar his jaw
dropped. I flung the reins to him.

"Where is the innkeeper?" I cried with my first breath.

"In the hall, Herr. But--"

I was past him and going through the rooms. Yes, thank God, there he
was, sitting before the huge fireplace, where the logs crackled and
seethed, his grizzled head sunk between his shoulders, lost in some
dream. I tramped in noisily. He started out of his dream and looked
around.

"Gott!" he cried. He wiped his eyes and looked again. "Is it a dream
or is it you?"

"Flesh and blood!" I cried. "Flesh and blood!"

I closed the door and bolted it. He followed my movements with a
mixture of astonishment and curiosity in his eyes.

"Now," I began, "what have you done with the proofs which you took from
your wife--the proofs of the existence of a twin sister of the Princess
Hildegarde of Hohenphalia?"

CHAPTER XXI

The suddenness of this demand overwhelmed him, and he fell back into
the chair, his eyes bulging and his mouth agape.

"Do you hear me?" I cried. "The proofs!" going up to him with clenched
fists. "What have you done with those proofs? If you have destroyed
them I'll kill you."

Then, as a bulldog shakes himself loose, the old fellow got up and
squared his shoulders and faced me, his lips compressed and his jaws
knotted. I could see by his eyes that I must fight for it.

"Herr Winthrop has gone mad," said he. "The Princess Hildegarde never
had a sister."

"You lie!" My hands were at his throat.

"I am an old man," he said.

I let my hands drop and stepped back.

"That is better," he said, with a grim smile. "Who told you this
impossible tale, and what has brought you here?"

"It is not impossible. The sister has been found."

"Found!" I h