There was a feminine squeaking from within, and the door opened on the pert little red-haired lady-in-waiting whom Rudi had fancied; she was staring astonishment with one eye and rubbing the sleep out of the other—a very pretty picture of disarray, with one tit peeping out of her night-dress. It’s as well I’m leaving Strackenz, thinks I, for I wouldn’t have been a faithful husband for long.

“Where’s your mistress?” says I, and at that moment the inner door opened, and Irma appeared, a gown pulled hastily round her shoulders.

“What is it, Helga? Who was knock—”, and then at the sight of me she gave a little scream, swayed for a moment, and then flung herself forward into my arms. “Carl! Oh, Carl! Carl!”

Oh, well, I might have been faithful for a while, anyway; the feel of that warm young body against mine was like an electric shock, and it was no pretence when I hugged her to me and returned the kisses that she rained on my lips and cheeks.

“Oh, Carl!” She stared up at me, tears on her lovely face. “Oh, my dear, what has happened to your head?”

For a moment I didn’t understand; then I remembered. My fine bald poll hadn’t had the razor over it for two or three days now, and I was sporting a fine black bristle, like an old brush. Trust a woman to hit on the least important thing!

“Nothing, my dear darling,” says I, and smothered her lovingly. “All’s well, now that I have you again.”

“But what has happened? Where have you been? I was mad with anxiety—” She gave a little scream. “You are wounded! Your arm—”

“There, there, sweeting,” says I, giving her another squeeze for luck. “Set your fears at rest. It’s a scratch, nothing more.” I turned her round, murmuring endearments, and led her into her own bedchamber, away from the delighted and curious gaze of young Helga. I shut the door, and at once her questions broke out afresh. I hushed her and sat down on the edge of the bed—it would have been splendid to curl up with her, but there wasn’t time.

“There has been a rebellion—a plot, rather, against the duchy. Your throne, our lives, were threatened.” I cut short her cry of dismay. “It is all over—nearly over, at any rate. There is a little still to do, but thanks to the loyalty of certain of your subjects—our subjects—the worst is passed, and there is no more to fear.”

“But…but I don’t understand,” she began, and then that beautiful face hardened. “Who was it? Those agitators—those creatures of the gutter! I knew it!”

“Now, now,” says I soothingly, “calm yourself. It is all past; Strackenz is safe—and most of all, you are safe, my sweet.” And I wrapped her up again, most enjoyably.