Within half an hour we had reorganized the beaters from the neighbourhood and, with lanterns, set out again to examine some woods to the east which had not been searched. About ten o'clock we set forth, the Countess accompanying us and walking well, notwithstanding her age, though I could see that it was a fearful anxiety that kept her active. To the men with us every inch of the mountain side was familiar, and for hours we searched. Suddenly, not far away, a horn was blown, followed by loud shouts. Quickly we approached the spot, and Eckardt and myself, as we came up, looked upon a strange scene. Close to the trunk of a great beech tree lay the form of the Crown-Prince, hatless, outstretched upon his face. Instantly I bent, tore open his shooting jacket, and to my great relief found that his heart was still beating. He was, however, quite unconscious, though there seemed no sign of a struggle. As he had left his hat and gun in the house, it seemed that he had gone forth only for a moment. And yet we were quite a mile from the forester's house! The Countess had thrown herself upon her knees and stroked his brow tenderly when I announced that he was still living. By her actions I saw that she was filled by some bitter self-reproach. With the lanterns shining around him--surely a weird and remarkable scene which would, if described by the journalists, have caused a great sensation in Europe--the Crown-Prince was brought slowly back to consciousness, until at last he sat up, dazed and wondering. His first words to me were: "That fellow! Where is he? That--that glass globe!" Glass globe! Surely His Highness's mind was wandering. An hour later he was comfortably in bed in the great old-world room in the castle, attended by a local doctor--upon whom I set the seal of official silence--and before dawn he had completely recovered. Yet, even to me, he declared that he retained absolutely no knowledge of what had occurred. "I went out quickly, and I--well, I don't know what happened," he told me soon after dawn, as he lay in bed. Strangely enough, he made no mention of the man, Karl Krahl. Later on he summoned the Countess von Kienitz, and for twenty minutes or so he had an animated discussion with her. Being outside the room, however, I was unable to hear distinctly. Well, I succeeded, by bribes and threats, in hushing up the whole affair and keeping it out of the papers, while by those who knew of the incident it was soon forgotten. I suppose it must have been fully three months later when one evening, having taken some documents over to the Emperor for signature at the Berlin Schloss, I returned to the Prince's private room in the Palace, when, to my great surprise, I found the man Karl Krahl seated there. He looked very pale and worn, quite unlike the rather athletic figure he presented at the forester's house.