his sitting-room.

"Yes, sir, they fairly besieged the door of the house and patrolled the
opposite side of the street all day long. Three times, too, gentlemen
called to ask for you. They said that they were visitors, but I think they
were only spies who wanted to find out whether you were at home."

"Well, now they can come and assure themselves that I'm here," replied his
master, stretching himself comfortably upon the sofa. "True, it won't last
long--we start in an hour. Order post-horses, Peter, two post-horses and a
light carriage, and pack the baggage."

"Yes, sir!" sighed Peter. "What clothes will you take? Do we travel this
time again as Baron von Moudenfels, and must I pack the old gentleman's
baggage as I did for the journey to Frankfort?"

"No, not as Baron von Moudenfels. This time I shall go in my own person and
under my own name. We shall go to Totis to the camp of his majesty the
emperor. So take the court dress and everything necessary for a gentleman.
Thank heaven, I shall be rid of the tiresome wig for a few days."

Removing the blonde wig he passed his hand through the black locks which
appeared under it.

"Hurry, Peter, order post-horses and pack our clothing; we must start in an
hour."

CHAPTER VI.

THE CONSPIRACY DISCOVERED.

The festival was over, the last guests had taken leave of Baroness de
Simonie, and the servants and lackeys were gliding noiselessly through the
empty rooms to extinguish the lights in the chandeliers and candelabra, and
here and there push the scattered pieces of furniture into place.

Baroness de Simonie had gone to her boudoir, but though it was late at
night she seemed to feel no disposition to retire to rest, nor was there
the slightest expression of weariness on her beautiful face; her eyes
sparkled as brightly as they had just flashed upon her guests, and there
was no change in the proud carriage of her head, or of the tall, slender
figure, still robed in white satin veiled with silver-embroidered white
crepe. The diadem of diamonds still glittered in her hair, and clasps of
the same brilliant gems adorned her neck and her bare white arms.

Madame de Simonie was pacing up and down her boudoir with hasty, impetuous
steps; her whole being seemed intensely agitated. Sometimes she paused at
the door to listen, then with panting breath resumed her restless movement
to and fro, while her scarlet lips murmured: "He does not come yet.
Something extraordina