Only--Wesel still, if I might advise!" This is the substance of Katte's message by express.

Date must be the end of July, 1730; but neither Date nor Letter is now anywhere producible, except from Hearsay.
Deeply pondering these things, what shall the poor Prince do?
From Canstatt, close by Stuttgard, a Town on our homeward route,--from Canstatt, where Katte was to "appear in disguise," had the furlough been got, one might have slipt away across the Hills.

It is but eighty miles to Strasburg, through the Kniebiss Pass, where the Murg, the Kinzig, and the intricate winding mountain streams and valleys start Rhine-ward: a labyrinthic rock-and-forest country, where pursuit or tracking were impossible.

Near by Strasburg is Count Rothenburg's Chateau; good Rothenburg, long Minister in Berlin,--who saw those PROFOSSEN, or Scavenger-Executioners in French Costume long since, and was always good to me:--might not that be a method?
Lieutenant Keith indeed is in Wesel, waiting only a signal.

Suppose he went to the Hague, and took soundings there what welcome we should have?
No, not till we have actually run; beware of making noise!--The poor Prince is in unutterable perplexity; can only answer Katte by that Messenger of his, to the effect (date and Letter burnt like the former): "Doubt is on every hand; doubt,--and yet CERTAINTY.