“Sir,” says he slowly, “these gentlemen have been telling me…what has happened in Strackenz of late. It—it defies understanding…mine at least. It seems you have been party to the most dastardly deception, the strangest plot, I ever heard of. Yet it seems it was against your will—is this not so?” He looked at the others, and Grundvig nodded and looked bewildered. “Perhaps I am not clear in my mind,” the Prince went on, “after all this—” and he gestured about him, like a man in a fog, “—but at least I have the evidence of my eyes. Whoever you are, whatever the reasons for what you did…” he broke off, at a loss, and then pulled himself together. “You saved my life tonight, sir. That much I know. If there has been wrong on your side—well, that is for your soul. But it has been cancelled out, for me at least.” He looked at the others, Grundvig still nodding, Sapten puffing grimly and staring at his boots. Then Carl Gustaf stood up, and held out his hand.

I took it, very manly, and we shook and looked each other in the eye. It was not canny, that resemblance, and I know he felt the same eeriness as I did, for his hand fell away.

“Indeed, I think I am in your debt,” says he, a little shaky. “If there is anything I can do…I don’t know.”

Well, to tell the truth, I hadn’t been thinking of rewards, but he seemed to be hinting at something. However, I knew the best policy was to shut up, so I simply waited, and another uncomfortable silence fell. But this time it was Sapten who broke it.

“There’s no question of debt,” says he, deliberately. “Mr Arnold may be said to have made amends. He’s lucky to go off with his life.”

But at this Grundvig and the Prince cried out.

“At least we owe him civility,” says the Prince. “Mr Arnold, you have had my thanks; understand it is the thanks of Strackenz and Denmark also.”

“Aye, very fine,” sneers Sapten. “But with your highness’s leave, a clear passage to our frontier is the most, I think, that Mr Arnold will expect.” He was pretty angry, all right; I began to understand that if Carl Gustaf hadn’t survived it would have been waltzing matilda for Flashy if Sapten had had his way. I didn’t think it politic to mention his promise on behalf of little goldenheaded Amelia; the less said about her the better.

“At least he must be allowed to rest first,” says the Prince, “and then conveyed in safety to the border. We owe him that.”

“He can’t stay here,” croaked Sapten. “In God’s name, look at his face! We’ll have difficulty preventing a scandal as it is. If there are two men with the prince’s figurehead in the state, we’ll never keep it quiet.”

The prince bit his lip, and I saw it was time for a diplomatic intervention.