she owed this man.

Hoffman came, looking pale, and with his hand in a sling, but was as
gravely devoted as ever, and listened to Helen's brief story with
serious attention.

"I will inquire, mademoiselle, and let you know at once. It is easy to
find persons if one has a clue. May I see the handkerchief?"

Helen showed it. He glanced at the initials, and laid it down with a
slight smile.

"The coat-of-arms is English, mademoiselle."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite so; I understand heraldry."

"But the initials stand for Sigismund Palsdorf, and we know he is a
German baron," broke in Amy, forgetting prudence in eagerness.

"If mademoiselle knows the name and title of this gentleman it will
not be hard to find him."

"We only fancy it is the same because of the initials. I dare say it
is a mistake, and the man is English. Inquire quietly, Hoffman, if
you please, as this ring is of value, and I wish to restore it to its
owner," said Helen, rather sharply.

"I shall do so, mademoiselle," and with his gentlemanly bow, the
courier left the room.

"Bless me, what's that?" cried Amy, a moment afterward, as a ringing
laugh echoed through the corridor,--a laugh so full of hearty and
infectious merriment that both girls smiled involuntarily, and Amy
peeped out to see who the blithe personage might be.

An old gentleman was entering his room near by, and Karl was just
about to descend the stairs. Both looked back at the girlish face
peeping at them, but both were quite grave, and the peal of laughter
remained a mystery, like all the rest of it.

Late in the evening Hoffman returned to report that a party of young
Englishmen had visited the castle that afternoon, and had left by
the evening train. One of them had been named Samuel Peters, and he,
doubtless, was the owner of the ring.

A humorous expression lurked in the couriers eye as he made his
report, and heard Amy exclaim, in a tone of disgust and comical
despair,--

"Samuel Peters! That spoils all the romance and dims the beauty of the
diamond. To think that a Peters should be the hero to whom I owe my
safety, and a Samuel should leave me this token of regard!"

"Hush, Amy," whispered Helen. "Thanks, Hoffman; we must wait now for
chance to help us."

IV

A POLISH EXILE

"Room for one here, sir," said the guard, as the train stopped at
Carlsruhe next day, on its way from Heidelberg to Baden.

The major put down his guide-book, Amy opened her eyes, and