Frederick Trenck said nothing. He stepped to his desk. The eyes of the baron glittered with joy as he saw Trenck take out a pocket- book, in which he knew by pleasant experience that the young officer sometimes kept gold. His joy was of short duration. No gold was seen. Trenck took out a small, modest, unsealed paper and handed it to him. "Look at this draft," said he. "Had you come yesterday I could have accommodated you joyfully. To-day it is impossible. I have this morning lent my colonel two hundred ducats, and my purse is empty." "Well, you must soon fill it," said Pollnitz, with a coarse laugh. "To-morrow at five you will enjoy your rendezvous, and you will not only speak of God, and love, and the stars, but also a little of earthly things--of pomp and gold, and--Farewell!" With a gay laugh Pollnitz took leave, but he no sooner found himself alone upon the street than his face grew black arid his eye was full of malice. "He has no gold for me, but I have his secret, and I will know how to squeeze some gold out of that," murmured Pollnitz. "Truly I think this secret of Trenck's is worth some thousand thalers, and the king must find the means to pay for it. But stop! The hour of my interesting rendezvous draws near. I am curious to know how I am to be convinced at eleven o'clock, and in the middle of the street, that the king has no gold. I will be punctual, but I have still time to visit a few friends, and seek if possible to win a few louis d'ors at faro." CHAPTER XVII. THE SILVER-WARE. It was a dark, still night. As the clock struck ten the night might really be said to begin in Berlin. The streets were not lighted except by accidental rays from the windows and the carriage-lamps, and the glare of torches carried by the servants who accompanied their masters to places of amusement. By eleven o'clock the streets were deserted. Pollnitz was therefore sure to meet no one on his way to the castle. He directed his steps to that door which opened upon the River Spree, as Fredersdorf had advised him. Silence reigned in the palace. The sentinel stepped slowly backward and forward in the courtyard, and in the distance was heard the baying of two hounds, entertaining each other with their melancholy music. The master of ceremonies began to be impatient; he thought that, the impertinent private secretary had been indulging in some practical joke or mystification at his expense; but as he drew near to the Spree, he heard the light stroke of oars in the water. Pollnitz hastened forward, and his eyes, accustomed to the darkness, discovered a skiff drawn up near the Elector's Bridge. "This is the point! here we must wait," whispered a manly voice. "I think we will not have to wait long," said another. "I see lights in the windows." The side of the castle next the Spree was now suddenly lighted; first the upper story, then the lower, and a pale light was now seen in the vestibule.