speaking in fear of the cane.
Ignoring the reserve that had marked our former conversation, I blurted
out:

"I can't send you to Paris."

The man's face went white, but he controlled himself.

"Your Majesty knows that I did not ask for it," he said with
considerable dignity.

"I know; but you wanted it."

He looked straight at me; he was very pale.

"Truly, yes," he said. "I wanted it; since your Majesty is plain, I'll
be plain too."

"Why did you want it? Why are you pale, Wetter?"

He put his cigar in his mouth and smoked fiercely, but did not answer.

"You must have wanted it," I said, "or you wouldn't have tried to get it
in that way."

"My God, I did want it."

"Why?"

"If I can't have it, what matter?" He rose to his feet and bowed.
"Good-bye, sire," said he. Then he gave a curious laugh. "_Moriturus te
saluto_," he added, laughing still.

"What's the matter, man?" I cried, springing up and catching him by the
arm.

"I haven't a shilling in the world; my creditors are in full chase; I'm
posted for a card debt at the club. If I had this I could borrow. Good
God, you promised it to her!"

"Yes, I promised it to her."

"Have you seen her again?"

"No. I must."

"To whom will you give it?"

"I don't know. Not to you."

"Why not?"

"You're not fit for it."

He took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead.

"I was no more fit for it yesterday," he said.

"I won't argue it."

"As you please, sire," said he with a shrug, and he seemed to pull
himself together. He rose and stood before me with a smile on his lips.

I sat down, took a piece of paper, wrote a draft, leaving the amount
unstated, and pushed it across to him. He looked down at it in wonder.
Then his face lit up with eagerness.

"You mean--you mean----?" he stammered.

"My ransom," said I.

"Mine!" he cried.

"No, it is mine, the price of my freedom."

[Illustration: "My ransom," said I. "The price of my freedom."]

He lifted the piece of paper in a hand that trembled.

"It's a lot of money," he said. "Eighty or ninety thousand marks."

"My name is good for that."

He looked me in the face, opening his lips but not speaking. Then he
thrust out his hand to me. I took it; I was as much moved as he.

"Don't tempt me again," I said.

He gripped my hand hard and fiercely; when he released it I waved it
toward the door. I could trust myself no more. He turned to go; but I
called to him again:

"Don't say anyth