I thought myself the only person who knew that fact--a fact which the Crown-Prince had revealed to me in the strictest secrecy.
Could this man Martinez Aranda be an agent of police? Yet that seemed quite impossible.
"You appear to have a more intimate knowledge of His Highness"s movements than I have myself," I replied, utterly amazed at the extent of the man"s information.
His dark, sallow face relaxed into a mysterious smile, and he bent to make another stroke without replying.
"His Highness should be very careful in the concealment of his movements when he is incognito," he remarked presently.
"You met him there, eh?" I asked, eager to ascertain the truth, for that secret visit to Rome had been a most mysterious one, even to me.
"I do not think I need reply to that question," he said. "All I can say is that the Crown-Prince kept rather queer company on that occasion."
Those words only served to confirm my suspicions. Whenever "Willie"
disappeared alone from Potsdam I could afterwards always trace the disappearance to his _penchant_ for the eternal feminine. How often, indeed, had I been present at scenes between the Crown-Princess and her husband, and how often I had heard the Emperor storm at his son in that high-pitched voice so peculiar to the Hohenzollerns when unduly excited.
The subject soon dropped, but his statements filled me with apprehension. It was quite plain that this well-dressed, bald-headed Spaniard was in possession of some secret of the Crown-Prince"s, a secret which had not been revealed to me.
More than once in the course of the next few days, when we were alone together, I endeavoured to learn something of the nature of the secret which took his Highness to the Eternal City, but Aranda was very clever and discreet. In addition, the att.i.tude of the girl Lola became more than ever strange. There was a blank look in those big, beautiful eyes of hers that betrayed something abnormal. But what it was I failed to decide.
One evening after dinner I saw her walking alone in the moonlight along the terrace by the lake, and joined her. So preoccupied she seemed that she scarcely replied to my remarks. Then suddenly she halted, and as though unable to restrain her feelings longer I heard a low sob escape her.
"Mademoiselle, what is the matter?" I asked in French. "Tell me."
"Oh, nothing, Monsieur, nothing," she declared in a low, broken voice.
"I--I know I am very foolish, only----"
"Only what? Tell me. That you are in distress I know. Let me a.s.sist you."
She shook her handsome head mournfully.
"No, you cannot a.s.sist me," she declared in a tone that told me how desperate she had now become. "My uncle," she exclaimed, staring straight before her across the moonlit waters, whence the dark mountains rose from the opposite bank. "Count, be careful! Do--my--my uncle."
"I don"t understand," I said, standing at her side and gazing at her pale countenance beneath the full light of the moon.
"My uncle--he knows something--be careful--warn the Crown-Prince."
"What does he know?"
"He has never told me."
"Are you in entire ignorance of the reason of the visit of His Highness to Rome? Try and remember all you know," I urged.
The girl put both her palms to her brow, and, shaking her head, said:
"I can remember nothing--nothing--oh! my poor head! Only warn the man who in Rome called himself Herr Nebelthau!"
She spoke in a low, nervous tone, and I could see that she was decidedly hysterical and much unstrung.
"Did you meet Herr Nebelthau?" I asked eagerly.
"Me? Ah, no. But I saw him, though he never saw me."
"But what is the secret that your uncle knows?" I demanded. "If I know, then I can warn the Crown-Prince."
"I do not know," she replied, again shaking her head. "Only--only--well, by some means my uncle knew that you had left Potsdam, and we travelled here on purpose to meet you to obtain from you some facts concerning the Crown-Prince"s movements."
"To meet me?" I echoed in surprise. In a moment I saw that Aranda"s intentions were evidently evil ones. But just at that juncture the Spaniard came forth in search of his niece.
"Why are you out here?" he asked her gruffly. "Go in. It is too cold for you."
"I came out with the Count to see the glorious panorama of the lake,"
explained the girl in strange humbleness, and then, turning reluctantly, she obeyed him.
"Come and have a hand at bridge," her uncle urged cheerfully. "The Signora Montalto and young Boileau are ready to make up the four."
To this I agreed, and we followed the girl into the big, white-panelled lounge of the hotel.
Two days later, about four o"clock in the afternoon, Aranda received a telegram, and an hour later left with his niece, who, as she parted from me, whispered:
"Warn the Crown-Prince, won"t you?"
I promised, and as they drove off to the station I stood waving my hand to the departing visitors.
A week later I had word from Cuxhaven of the arrival of the _Hohenzollern_ from Trondhjem, and at once returned to the Marmor Palace, where on the night of my arrival the Crown-Prince, wearing his Saxon Uhlan uniform, entered my room, gaily exclaiming:
"Well, Heltzendorff, how are things on the Lake of Garda, eh?"
I briefly explained where I had been, and then, as he lit a cigarette, standing astride near the fireplace, I asked permission to speak upon a confidential matter.
"More trouble, eh?" he asked, with a grin and a shrug of the shoulders.
"I do not know," I said seriously, and then, in brief, I related how the man Aranda had arrived with the girl Lola at the hotel, and what had followed.
As soon as I mentioned the Lungtevere Mellini, that rather aristocratic street, which runs parallel with the Tiber on the outskirts of Rome, His Highness started, his face blanched instantly, and he bit his thin lip.
"_Himmel!_" he gasped. "The fellow knows that I took the name of Nebelthau! Impossible!"
"But he does," I said quietly. "He is undoubtedly in possession of some secret concerning your visit to Rome last December."
In His Highness"s eyes I noticed a keen, desperate expression which I had scarcely ever seen there before.
"You are quite certain of this, Heltzendorff, eh?" he asked. "The man"s name is Martinez Aranda?"
"Yes. He says he is from Seville. His niece, Lola Serrano, told me to warn you that he means mischief."
"Who is the girl? Do I know her?"