He shook his head. "I fear we shall find it a perfectly regular
certificate."

"You mean," said I, "that they have bribed some official to make a false
record?"

"Just that."

"Then, if the woman, the official and the records all convict me, how am
I to prove my innocence?" I demanded.

"By waiting for the enemy to make a blunder. They have already made one
which results delightfully for you."

"I reckon I'm a trifle thick-headed, Courtney," I said. "You'll have to
explain."

"Never mind the head, old man; it will be all right to-morrow. Their
blunder is in having unwittingly sprung their trap on the very evening
the Princess and you came to an understanding. Had they been even a few
hours earlier you would not have dared to speak of love to her--and so
you might not have had the King's daughter as a special advocate. On the
other hand, had they waited a day longer, your betrothal would,
doubtless, have received Frederick's approval, and have been formally
proclaimed. How embarrassing, then, to the Princess; how intensely
irritating to the King, and how particularly injurious to you in the eyes
of the nation--the people would think you won her under false colors;
and, though you proved your innocence a hundred times, the taint would
always linger."

"You're right, Courtney," I exclaimed; "right as Gospel."

"Now, see how lucky you are: You have the Princess--you are sure of her
and no one knows it. You go to the King, to-day; tell him the whole
story of the Princess and you, and of this Spencer woman's claim and
history. Ask him to suspend judgment until you can establish the falsity
of her charge. If I know Frederick, you need have no fear of his answer."

"It's the only course," said I; "but, first, I would like to know the
facts as to that certificate."

Courtney arose. "You shall have a copy of it before candle-light," he
said. "Where can I see you, if there is anything of my interview with
the lady I think you need to know?"

"I'll be here at six o'clock," said I.

"Very good--and, of course, not a word to-night to the King as to Lotzen.
Let him guess that for himself."

"Trust me," I answered; "I'm getting more awake."

Then I sent for Moore. "Colonel Moore," I said (as Aide to a Field
Marshal he was entitled to a Colonelcy, and had been gazetted to it in
the orders of the previous evening), "has the scene in the Garden, last
night, become public talk?"

"I fear so, sir," he replie