"How? I will tell you how. Prince Ernst marries Gretchen for her
dowry alone. If the woman I believe to be her sister can be proved so,
the Prince will withdraw his claims to Gretchen's hand. Do you
understand? He will not marry for half the revenues of Hohenphalia.
It is all or nothing. Now, will you produce those proofs? Will you
help me?" The minute hand of the clock was moving around with deadly
precision.

"Are you lying to me?" he asked, breathing hard.

"You fool! can't you see that it means everything to Gretchen if you
have those proofs? She will be free, free! Will you get those proofs,
or shall your god-child live to curse you?"

This was the most powerful weapon I had yet used.

"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.