"I know Count von Minckwitz, Grand-Master of the Court of the Duke of Saxe-Altenbourg," was my reply. "No. This is a man, Wilhelm Minckwitz, who poses as a musician." I shook my head. "You are quite certain that you have never heard the name? Try to recollect whether the Crown-Prince has ever mentioned him in your presence." I endeavoured to recall the circumstance, for somehow very gradually I felt a distinct recollection of having once heard that name before. "At the moment I fail to recall anything, Your Majesty," was my answer. The Emperor knit his brows as though annoyed at my reply, and then grunted deeply in dissatisfaction. "Remain here in Potsdam," he said. "Telegraph to the Crown-Prince recalling him at my orders, and I will cancel the inspection at Thorn. Tell the Crown-Prince that I wish to see him to-night immediately upon his return." Then, noticing for the first time that the Emperor held a paper in his hand, I realized that by its colour it was one of those secret reports furnished for the Kaiser's eye alone--a report of one of the thousands of spies of Germany spread everywhere. Minckwitz! I impressed that name upon my memory, and, being dismissed, bowed myself out of the Imperial presence. Returning to the Marmor Palace I sent a long and urgent message over the private wire to "Willie" at Altona, repeating His Majesty's orders, and recalling him at once. Quite well I knew that such an unusual message would arouse His Highness's apprehension that for some offence or other he was about to receive a paternal castigation. But I could not be explicit, because I had no knowledge of the reason the Emperor was cancelling our engagement at Thorn. At nine o'clock that night the Crown-Prince, gay in his Hussar uniform, burst into the room wherein I was attending to the correspondence. "What in the name of Fate does all this mean, Heltzendorff?" he demanded. "Why did the Emperor fail to reply to my message?" "I delivered it," I said. And then I described what took place in the Emperor's private dining-room. When I mentioned the name of Minckwitz the Crown-Prince started and his cheeks blanched. "Did he ask you that?" he gasped. "Yes. I told him the only person I knew of that name was Count von Minckwitz." "Ah, that little fat, old Master of the Court. Oh! The Emperor knows him well enough. It is somebody else he is referring to." "Do you know him?" I asked eagerly. "Me? Why--why, of course not!" was "Willie's" quick reply, in a tone which showed me that he was not telling the truth. "His Majesty wishes to see you at once," I urged, full of wonder. I could plainly see that His Imperial Highness had been much upset at mention of the mysterious person called Minckwitz. What could the Emperor know of him? Was there some scandal at the root of it all, some facts which the Crown-Prince feared might be revealed?