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Updated: June 5, 2025
Ah, could he have flown! He muttered a curse at the chancellor for the delay. But happily Gretchen did not see him. The duke came in first, and he waited till the others were inside; then he shut the door with lesser violence and rushed over to the chancellor. "Herbeck, you villain!" The chancellor stared at the Gipsy, at Von Arnsberg, at Grumbach. "Herbeck, you black scoundrel!" cried the duke.
Well, dead or alive," the duke continued, his throat swelling, "ten thousand crowns to him who brings Arnsberg to me, dead or alive." "He will never come back," said Herbeck. "Not if he is wise. He was clever. He sent all his fortune to Paris, so I found, and what I confiscated was nothing but his estate.
But these remittances, argued Herbeck, came long after the death of the old king. He had his agents, vowed the duke. Herbeck would not listen to this. He preferred to believe that Count von Arnsberg was the man. There was an endless tangle of red tape before the girl became secure in her rights.
Suddenly he laughed; but it was the terrible laughter of a madman. There were death and desolation in it. "Come, all of you; you, Gretchen, and you, Hildegarde; come, Carmichael, and you, Arnsberg; all of you! Let us go and pay a visit to our good friend, Herbeck!" The king of Jugendheit, Prince Ludwig, and the chancellor sat in the form of a triangle.
But no one ever came forward for the reward. There was a price on my head when it was known that I had fled." Grumbach stared into his pipe without seeing anything. "And no one ever came for the reward? That is strange. Was immunity promised?" asked Carmichael. "It was inferred, but not literally promised." "Fear kept them away." "Perhaps. And there is Arnsberg." "Was he guilty?"
Von Arnsberg repeated. The two women, large-eyed and bewildered, clung to each other's hand tensely. These were heart-breaking times. Gretchen's mind, however, absorbed nothing, neither the words nor the picture. Her thoughts revolved round one thing; if she were a princess she could be happy.
Herbeck compared the two. "Where did you find these?" "In Arnsberg's desk," returned the duke, the anger in his eyes giving place to gloomy retrospection. "Arnsberg, my boyhood playmate, the man I loved and trusted and advanced to the highest office in my power. Is that not the way? Do we ever trust any one fully without being in the end deceived?
"Your Majesty, I regret that your father is not alive to accept my apologies for so baselessly misjudging him. Arnsberg, nothing that I can do will restore these wasted years. But I offer you the portfolio." "I am only a broken man, your Highness; too old." "It is my will." Arnsberg bent his head in submission.
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