"Well, because I think it is your own property," I said with a sarcastic smile. "I have some recollection of having seen it in your hand!" She took it, examined it well, and then, with a hollow, artificial laugh, declared: "It certainly is not mine. I once had a bag very similar, but mine was not of such good quality." "Are you really quite certain, Countess?" I demanded in a low, persuasive voice. "Quite," she declared, though I knew that she was lying to me. "But why trouble about that bag while there is a point much more important--the safety and whereabouts of His Imperial Highness?" she went on in a great state of agitation. "Tell me, Count, exactly what occurred--as far as you know." I recounted to her the facts just as you have already written them down, and as I did so I watched her thin, crafty old face, noticing upon it an expression full of suspicion of myself. She was, I now realized, undecided as to the exact extent of my knowledge. "How did you know that the young man's name was Krahl?" she asked eagerly. "You had perhaps met him before--eh?" But to this leading question I maintained a sphinx-like silence. That the little old woman who had so unexpectedly become a lady-in-waiting was playing some desperate double game I felt sure, but its exact import was still an enigma. "In any case," she said, "would it not be as well to return to the Neue Schenke and make search?" I smiled. Then, in order to let her know that I was acquainted with Italian, the language she had spoken on that well-remembered night in her own conservatory, I exclaimed: "Ahe! alle volte con gli occhi aperti si far dei sogni." (Sometimes one can dream with one's eyes open.) Her thin eyebrows narrowed, and with a shrug of her shoulders the clever old woman replied: "Dal false bene viene il vero male." (From an affected good feeling comes a real evil.) I realized at that moment that there was more mystery in the affair than I had yet conceived. His Imperial Highness was certainly missing, though the female element of the affair had become eliminated by my recognition of her own handbag. She, too, had been in secret to the forester's house--but with what object? Half an hour later we were back at the little house in the forest. The guests had all returned to the castle, and only Eckardt, the police commissary, remained, with the forester and his underlings. Already search had been made in the surrounding woods, but without result. Of his Imperial Highness there was no trace. In the long room, with its pitch-pine walls, and lit by oil lamps, the crafty old Countess closely questioned Eckardt as to the result of his inquiries. But the police official, who had become full of nervous fear, declared that he had been sent off by His Highness, and had not since found any trace of him. He spoke of the little black silk bag, of course, and attached great importance to it.