the singular interview with which you honour me at present.
For the rest, I have already communicated with my Ambassador at Vienna;
and unless you propose to murder me, I shall be at liberty, whether you
please or not, within the week. For I hardly fancy the future empire of
Grunewald is yet ripe to go to war with England. I conceive I am a
little more than quits. I owe you no explanation; yours has been the
wrong. You, if you have studied my writing with intelligence, owe me a
large debt of gratitude. And to conclude, as I have not yet finished my
toilet, I imagine the courtesy of a turnkey to a prisoner would induce
you to withdraw.'

There was some paper on the table, and Otto, sitting down, wrote a
passport in the name of Sir John Crabtree.

'Affix the seal, Herr Cancellarius,' he said, in his most princely
manner, as he rose.

Greisengesang produced a red portfolio, and affixed the seal in the
unpoetic guise of an adhesive stamp; nor did his perturbed and clumsy
movements at all lessen the comedy of the performance. Sir John looked
on with a malign enjoyment; and Otto chafed, regretting, when too late,
the unnecessary royalty of his command and gesture. But at length the
Chancellor had finished his piece of prestidigitation, and, without
waiting for an order, had countersigned the passport. Thus regularised,
he returned it to Otto with a bow.

'You will now,' said the Prince, 'order one of my own carriages to be
prepared; see it, with your own eyes, charged with Sir John's effects,
and have it waiting within the hour behind the Pheasant House. Sir John
departs this morning for Vienna.'

The Chancellor took his elaborate departure.

'Here, sir, is your passport,' said Otto, turning to the Baronet. 'I
regret it from my heart that you have met inhospitable usage.'

'Well, there will be no English war,' returned Sir John.

'Nay, sir,' said Otto, 'you surely owe me your civility. Matters are now
changed, and we stand again upon the footing of two gentlemen. It was
not I who ordered your arrest; I returned late last night from hunting;
and as you cannot blame me for your imprisonment, you may even thank me
for your freedom.'

'And yet you read my papers,' said the traveller shrewdly.

'There, sir, I was wrong,' returned Otto; 'and for that I ask your
pardon. You can scarce refuse it, for your own dignity, to one who is a
plexus of weaknesses. Nor was the fault entirely mine. Had the papers
been