Then the door opened, and Detchard’s voice said softly:

“Wo sind sie?”

I poked my head out. He was carrying a big silk dressing-gown, thank God, and I grabbed at it, shuddering.

“His highness has left the house,” says he. “Everything is in train. Is all well with you?”

“Oh, splendid—except that I’m almost frozen to death. Isn’t there a fire, in God’s name,”

“There is a stove in the bedroom,” says he, and ushered me through to a splendid apartment, thickly-carpeted, with a huge four-poster bed richly-curtained, and a fine stove with its doors thrown wide to warm the room. While I thawed out Detchard stood with his grey head cocked, considering me and toying with his seals.

“It is truly amazing,” says he, at last. “I did not believe it—but you are the same man. Wonderful!”

“Well, I hope the other one’s warmer than I am. Haven’t you any brandy?”

He poured me a glass, very carefully, and watched me gulp it down.

“You are nervous,” says he. “Naturally. However, you will have the night to accustom yourself to the—ah, novelty of your situation. His highness retired early, with a slight headache no doubt brought on by the fatigue of his journey, so you will be undisturbed. Your host, Count von Tarlenheim, has given particular instructions. You will meet him briefly tomorrow, by the way, before we set out for the border. An amiable dotard. His highness—or I should say, your highness—has been quite formal with him so far, so there will be no questions asked if you are no more forthcoming tomorrow than politeness demands.”

“Thank God for that,” says I. I wanted time to play myself in, so to speak, and the thought of chattering to a breakfast table was out of court altogether.

“The only people who have been close to you on the journey, apart from myself, are Dr Ostred, your physician, and young Josef, your valet. He has been in your service only a day, your old valet, Einar, having become indisposed shortly after we set out.”

“Convenient,” says I. “Will he live?”

“Of course. You are much concerned about him.” He turned, and I leaped violently as the door opened, and a little anxious-looking chap came in.

“Ah, Ostred,” says Detchard, and the little chap blinked, looked at me, at Detchard, and back at me again.

“I thought…” he stammered. “That is—your pardon, highness. I supposed…you had retired…that you would be in bed.” He looked helplessly to Detchard, and I thought, by heaven, he thinks I’m the real man. He couldn’t make out what had gone wrong. So here was a first-rate chance to put the thing to the test; if I could fool my own doctor I could fool anyone.

“I have a headache,” says I, quite gently. “That doesn’t mean that I have to take to my bed.”

“No, no…of course not, highness.” He licked his lips.