"We leave at six o'clock this evening," was the Crown-Prince's reply. "Koehler has ordered the saloon to be attached to the Hook of Holland train. Hardt has already left Berlin to engage rooms for us at the 'Ritz,' in London." "And the suite?" I asked, for it was one of my duties to arrange who travelled with His Imperial Highness. "Oh! we'll leave Eckardt at home," he said, for he always hated the surveillance of the Commissioner of Secret Police. "We shall only want Schuler, my valet, and Knof." We never travelled anywhere without Knof, the chauffeur, who was an impudent, arrogant young man, intensely disliked by everyone. And so it was that the four of us duly landed at Harwich and travelled to London, our identity unknown to the jostling crowd of Cook's tourists returning from their annual holiday on the Continent. At the "Ritz," too, though we took our meals in the restaurant, that great square white room overlooking the Park, "Willie" was not recognized, because all photographs of him show him in elegant uniform. In a tweed suit, or in evening clothes, he presents an unhealthy, weedy and somewhat insignificant figure, save for those slant animal eyes of his which are always so striking in his every mood. His Imperial Highness had been on the previous day to Carlton House Terrace to a luncheon given by the Ambassador's wife, but to which nobody was invited but the Embassy staff. And that afternoon in the great dining-room, in full view of St. James's Park and Whitehall, the toast of "The Day" was drunk enthusiastically--the day of Great Britain's intended downfall. That same evening an Imperial courier arrived from Berlin and called at the "Ritz," where, on being shown into the Crown-Prince's sitting-room, he handed His Highness a sealed letter from his wife. "Willie," on reading it, became very grave. Then, striking a match, he lit it, and held it until it was consumed. There was a second letter--which I saw was from the Emperor. This he also read, and then gave vent to an expression of impatience. For a few minutes he reflected, and it was then he announced that we must go to Plymouth next day. On arrival there we went to the Royal Hotel, where the Crown-Prince registered as Mr. Richter, engaging a private suite of rooms for himself and his secretary, myself. For three days we remained there, taking motor runs to Dartmoor, and also down into Cornwall, until on the morning of the fourth day the Crown-Prince suddenly said: "I shall probably have a visitor this morning about eleven o'clock--a young lady named King. Tell them at the bureau to send her up to my sitting-room." At the time appointed the lady came. I received her in the lobby of the self-contained flat, and found her to be about twenty-four, well-dressed, fair-haired and extremely good-looking. Knowing the Crown-Prince's _penchant_ for the petticoat, I saw at once the reason of our journey down to Plymouth.