"You know nothing, Von Heltzendorff, eh?" he asked, looking me straight in the face. "Nothing," was my reply. "You have no knowledge of the trap into which the Crown-Prince fell when he was in Paris with you six months ago, and when he and I first met?" "A trap! What do you mean?" "Has he told you nothing?" "Not a syllable." "Ah! Then I cannot be frank with you until I obtain His Highness's permission. He told me that you knew nothing, but I did not believe it. Knowing well what implicit confidence he places in you, I believed that you knew the ghastly truth." "You alarm me," I said. "If the situation is grave, then I may be able to be of some assistance, more especially if time is pressing." He hesitated, but refused to reveal a single fact before receiving the Crown-Prince's permission. Into what trap had "Willie" fallen during our last visit to Paris I could not conceive. His wild orgies in the Montmartre, his constant absences alone, his terrible craving for excitement, his wild and reckless search for pleasure in the lowest haunts of vice, had ever been a source of anxiety to me. Times without number had I lifted a warning finger, only to be derided and ridiculed by the son of the All-Highest One. Next day, soon after His Highness was dressed, he entered my room. "Heltzendorff," he said, "I have been chatting with Von Pappenheim and his sister upon a little matter of business which closely concerns myself. I want you to leave in an hour's time and go to Hanover. In the Kirchröder Strasse, No. 16, out at Kleefeld there lives a certain man named Minckwitz--a Pole by birth. He has two nieces--one about twenty and the other two years older. With them you have no concern. All I want is that you engage a photographer, or, better, yourself take a snapshot of this man Minckwitz, and bring it to me. Be discreet and trust no one with the secret of your journey." "Exactly. There is a doubt as to the man's identity, eh?" "Willie" nodded in the affirmative. Satisfied that I should at last see the mysterious person whose identity the Emperor had wished to establish, I set out from Oels on my long journey right across Germany. In due course I arrived in Hanover, and found the house situate in the pleasant suburb. Here I found that "Willie's" suspicions were correct, and the man Minckwitz was living under the name of Sembach and pretending to be a musician. I watched, and very soon with my own camera took in secret a snapshot of the mysterious individual as he walked in the street. With this I left two days later on my return to Oels. The photograph was that of a thin, narrow-faced, deep-eyed man, with a scraggy, pointed beard--a typical Pole, and when I handed it to "Willie" he held his breath. "Look!" he cried, turning to Von Pappenheim and his sister, who were both present. "Look! There is no mistake! That is the man. What shall we do? No time must be lost. How can I act?"