"Your eyes, your nose--Arnsberg, here and
alive? Oh, this is too good to be true!" The duke reached out toward the
bell, but Carmichael interposed.
"Your highness will remember," he warned.
"Ha! So you have trapped me blindly? I begin to understand. Who is this
fellow Grumbach? Did I offer immunity to him?"
"I am Hans Breunner, Highness, and I ask for nothing."
"Breunner? Breunner? Hans Breunner, brother of Hermann, and you put
yourself into my hands?" The tone developed into a suppressed roar. The
duke took hold of Hans by the shoulders and drew him close. "You dog! So
you ask for nothing? It shall be given to you. To-morrow morning I shall
have you shot! Hans Breunner! God is good to me this night! Thanks, Herr
Carmichael, a thousand thanks! And I need not ask who that damnable
scoundrel is who has the black face and heart of a Gipsy. When I
recollect what I have suffered at your hands! If only the late king were
here, my joy would be complete!"
"Your Highness," said Von Arnsberg quietly, "all I have left in the
world are these two withered hands, and may God cut them off if they
ever wronged you in any act. I am innocent. Those letters purported to
have been written by me were forgeries. I could not prove this, so I
have been outlawed, with the sentence of death over my head.
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