“For want of evidence to disprove his story—yes.” My heart fluttered up like a maiden’s prayer, “You see,” says Sapten grimly, “it fits. Haven’t we been starting at every German shadow this twenty years back? You know that, Grundvig. Isn’t fear for the security of our duchy the reason we’re here? What are we Sons of the Volsungs for?” He shook his head. “Show me a hole in this fellow’s tale, for I can’t see one.”

At this they went into a frantic discussion, which of course got them nowhere. Baffled, they turned back on me.

“What are we to do with him?” says Grundvig.

“Hang him,” snaps Hansen. “The swine deserves it.”

“For the crime he has committed against our duchess,” says Grundvig, glowering at me, “he deserves no less.”

They were all looking like Scotch elders in a brothel, but I saw that here was my cue again. I looked bewildered, and then let outraged indignation take its place.

“What do you mean by that?” I cried.

“You were married to her for more than a week,” says Sapten significantly.

I made hoarse noises of fury. “You infamous old man!” I shouted. “D’you dare to suggest?…My God, sir, have you forgotten that I am a British officer? Have you the effrontery to imply that I would….”

I choked as with great rage, but I doubt if Sapten was much impressed. The other two looked doubtful, though.

“I am not so dead to honour,” says I, trying to look noble and angry together, “that I would stoop to carry my imposture as far as that. There are some things that no gentleman….” And I broke off as though it was too much for me.

“It must have been thought strange,” mutters Grundvig. Palpitating, I maintained a stiff silence.

They were quiet for a moment, contemplating their duchess’s virginity, I suppose. Then Grundvig said:

“Do you swear…that…that….”

“My word of honour,” says I, “as a British officer.”

“Oh, well, that settles it,” says Sapten, and I’ll swear his mouth twitched under his moustache. “And at the risk of seeming disloyal, gentlemen, I’d suggest that the fate of Prince Carl Gustaf is perhaps as important as what may or mayn’t have happened to…well, let it be.” He swung round on me. “You’ll stay here. If you move outside this hut you’re a dead man—which you may be, anyway, before we’re done. I suggest we continue our deliberations elsewhere, doctor. If what we have learned today is true, we haven’t much time to prevent our duchess becoming a widow before she’s been a bride. To say nothing of saving her duchy for her. Come.”