"Live to curse me?" he said, not speaking to me, but to the thought.
He sat down again and covered his face with his hands. The minute
which passed seemed very long. He flung away his hands from his eyes
with a movement which expressed despair and resignation. "Yes, I will
get them. It is years and years ago," he mused absently; "so long ago
that I had thought it gone and forgotten. But it was not to be. I
will get the proofs," turning to me as he left the chair. "Wait here."
He unbolted the door and passed forth. . . . It was a full confession
of the deception, written by the mother herself, and witnessed by her
physician, the innkeeper and his wife. Not even the King could contest
its genuineness.
"Where is this Dr. Salzberg?"
The innkeeper leaned against the side of the fireplace, staring into
the flames.
"He is dead," briefly.
"Who was he?"
"Her late Highness's court-physician. Oh, have no fear, Herr; this
new-found Princess of yours will come into her own," with a bitter
smile.
"And why have you kept silent all these years?" I asked.
"Why?" He raised his arms, then let them fall dejectedly.
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