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Updated: June 5, 2025
Grumbach circled the room. All the near tables were vacant. The Black Eagle was generally a lonely place till late in the afternoon. Grumbach touched the scar tenderly. Could he trust this man? Could he trust any one in the world? The impulse came to trust Carmichael, and he did not disregard it. "I was born in this very street," he whispered. "Here?" "Sh! Not so loud! Yes, in this very street.
It was good to stand in the sunshine which seemed to draw forth all the vagaries and weariness of sleep from the mind and body. Hans Grumbach shook himself gratefully. He was standing on the curb in front of the Grand Hotel, his back to the sun. It was nine o'clock.
The officer sighed as he refolded the documents. "As soon as these are approved by his excellency the American consul, kindly have a porter bring them over to the bureau of police. It will be only a matter of form. I shall return them at once." Grumbach produced a Louis Napoleon which was then as now acceptable that side of the Rhine.
Had Grumbach not assisted in the abduction, her highness would in all probability have grown up as other princesses, artificial, cold, reserved, seldom touched by the fires of animated thought or action. In fact, had things been otherwise, he never would have ridden with her highness in the freshness of the morning or fallen in love with her.
I was to take her away and leave her with strange people." "Ah!" interrupted the duke, with despairing gesture toward Grumbach, "why did you not leave us all in peace?" "Highness, a great wrong has been done, and God brought me here to right it." "You are a brave man," darkly. "I am in your hands, Highness," sturdily. "In a mad moment I committed a crime.
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.
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?"
Not that he looked forward with eagerness to receive them, but that there was no one existing who cared enough about him to write. This note left by the porter of the Grand Hotel moved him with surprise. It requested that he present himself at eight o'clock at the office of the hotel and ask to be directed to the room of Hans Grumbach. "Now, who is Hans Grumbach?
Compatriots were always asking impossible things of Carmichael, introductions to the grand duke, invitations to balls, and so forth, and swearing to have him recalled if he refused to perform these offices. The concierge picked up the slips which were to be forwarded to the police. "He is Hans Grumbach, of New York." "An adopted compatriot, it would seem.
"But why did you come back? You were safe enough in New York." "Who can say what a man will do? Don't question me. Let be. I have said too much already. Some day perhaps I shall tell you why. When I went away I was thin and pale and had yellow hair. To-day I am fat, gray-headed; I have made money. Who will recognize me now? No one." "But your name?" Grumbach laughed unmusically.
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