'We of the Guard are hoping to break glasses with you gentlemen of the Cavalry before the night is over,' began Unziar, alluding to a fashion amongst the military contingent in Maasau of taking wine together and breaking the glasses afterwards as a sign of unalterable good feeling and mutual loyalty. Unziar included Rallywood with the two officers beside him in this invitation, by a slight inclination of the head.

The three men accepted, but there was a little stiffening in the attitude of each, for Rallywood had friends here who were resolved, if only for the honour of the Frontier Corps, to see their late comrade through the coming trouble.

Before the wine filled the glasses, Adolf was already deep in the story of Unziar's shooting-match with Abenfeldt.

'Allow me the honour of drinking with you, Monsieur,' said Colendorp to Rallywood. 'It was in truth a notable performance; we have never had even in the Guard a surer shot than Unziar,' he added, alluding to the anecdote.

Rallywood had just time to make up his mind and determine upon his course of action.

The glasses clinked together, and then clashed upon the floor, where the men set their heels upon them. Then Rallywood turned to Unziar:

'I compliment you, Lieutenant Unziar,' he said. 'I already knew that you were a swordsman not easily to be matched; since, in fact, the little affair at Alfau, when I had the pleasure of acting as your second. But the pistol is, I venture to say, another matter.'

Unziar set his shoulders back with an indescribable suggestion of scornful defiance.

'May I ask you to state precisely what you mean, Monsieur?' he answered.

'I mean that although a man may shoot any number of swallows of a morning before breakfast, it does not follow that he can hit a man at, say, twenty paces.' Rallywood spoke deliberately.

The whole group of men listened in silence. Then Unziar leant towards Rallywood with a smile.

'We can but try, Captain Rallywood,' he said gently.

Although everyone in their immediate neighbourhood was listening, from the other side of the hall they looked, no doubt, like a group of tall men engaged in the ordinary conversation and common amenities of society, the only noticeable difference being that Unziar was a little more deprecating and low-voiced than usual. Elmur, standing near by, filled his glass and drank, with a silent nod at Unziar.

'I shall be delighted to assist you in settling the question,' returned Rallywood; then, consulting his card, he added, I find I have an engagement for the last dance, some twenty minutes hence. May I recommend the interval to your consideration?'

The two frontier men stepped forward simultaneously to offer their services to Rallywood. He thanked them, and was about to accept, when Captain Adiron interposed.

'If either of these gentlemen will resign in my favour I shall feel it an obligation, as I can then offer myself to Captain Rallywood as one of his seconds.'

Courtesy demanded that Rallywood and his friends should fall in with this proposal, and Rallywood, replying to Adiron, added:

'You have heard exactly what passed between Lieutenant Unziar and myself, and I am sure I cannot do better than leave the matter in your hands in conjunction with my friend, Colonel Jenard.'

Colendorp and Adolf, as representing Unziar, accompanied Rallywood's seconds to make the necessary arrangements. Meanwhile, Rallywood strolled back to the gallery above the ballroom, and looked down at the dancers. He could not see Valerie, but he remembered Selpdorf and his injunctions to avoid a quarrel, and smiled as he thought over the words, since the Chancellor must have been perfectly aware that he had pushed an unwelcome foreigner into a position that could only be held by force of arms, even in the case of a Maasaun candidate of noble blood. At that moment he saw his own position clearly. He knew himself to be an unconsidered unit in the big game of diplomacy that was being played over his head, and he remembered that the day of human sacrifices is not yet, as many suppose, quite a thing of the past. The gods are changed, or called by other names, and the high priest no longer dips his hands in the actual blood of the victim; but the whole deadly drama goes on repeating itself as it always must while the generations of men have their being under various modifications of the primeval system of the strong hand. That his life might be deliberately requisitioned by Selpdorf to forward some secret policy of his own was by no means an impossible supposition. Rallywood glanced at the clock. In another quarter of an hour he must either be dancing with Valerie Selpdorf or lying dead in the famous Cloister of St. Anthony, which overlooked the river, and where many another man had died under much the same circumstances.

Rallywood laughed again and turned on his heel. At that period it did not seem to matter greatly which way it ended, but he was going to carry the undertaking through with what credit his wits afforded him.

In the meantime the Cloister of St. Anthony had been lit up from end to end with a brilliant light, and while the other two seconds went to fetch their respective principals to the spot, Adiron and Adolf exchanged a word or two as they waited.

'The Englishman took it very well,' remarked Adiron.

'Devilish well,' lisped little Adolf; 'he made rather a favour, of it just to satisfy Unziar, you know! He's too sure of himself, this Rallywood. If he kills Unziar, which is unlikely, I shall have to finish the affair myself!' with a frowning importance that sent Adiron into one of his ready roars of laughter.

The Cloister was still echoing with the sound when Rallywood, accompanied by Jenard, arrived from the other side of the palace, where the state rooms were situated. On the way Jenard explained to Rallywood that the procedure decided upon as being best suited to the requirements of the case was simply alternate shots at twenty paces.

Rallywood and Unziar being placed, one of the men sent a coin spinning up into the air. Then followed a long minute of silence.

St. Anthony's Cloister looks inward towards a quadrangle; the outer side bordering the river has been glazed in, but in the interval of waiting Rallywood could hear the water plashing and sobbing against the foundations of the old walls, and the wild sound of the tsa, sweeping down from the snowy frontier above Kofn Ford, as it wailed and howled drearily along the dark waters. He almost started when Adiron, approaching him, said:

'You have won the first shot, Captain Rallywood.'

'Then I am afraid I must beg of you to do me the great favour of rearranging the affair,' replied Rallywood; 'for if I should be unfortunate enough to kill Lieutenant Unziar, or even to disable him, the question at issue between us must remain undecided for at the best an indefinite time, and possibly for ever. If you recollect, the matter over which he was pleased to differ with me was my expressed opinion that though a good shot may bring down swallows to perfection, he might miss a man at a moderate distance.'

'You have won the toss,' remonstrated Adiron.

'Yes, unluckily. But I feel sure that Lieutenant Unziar will be kind enough not to hold me to that, since it is evident that the first shot should be his.'

Adiron grinned. It was his way of showing many mixed emotions.

'I like your way of conducting a dispute, Captain Rallywood,' he said; 'but as your second I must warn you that it is the worst luck in the world to refuse luck. You have won the toss. In declining to profit by it you are paying court to death.'

Rallywood shrugged his shoulders.

'I may prove my point,' he retorted, smiling.

'As for that, it might be decided on a different basis later on,' urged Adiron.

For the second time that night Rallywood looked at his watch.

'I have an engagement in seven minutes,' he said. 'I shall be glad if you will convey my meaning to Lieutenant Unziar.'

'As you like,' said Adiron; 'but in case of accident I should like to take the opportunity of saying to you now, that in the whole range of my experience I have never derived more pleasure from the attitude of a principal than I have on this occasion from yours.'

Adiron concluded with a bow and recrossed to the other second. Since the Englishman was determined to go to his grave in so excellent and gallant a fashion, by heaven, it was Victor St. Just Adiron who would escort him to its brink with all the honours of a fine and hereditary courtesy! He was a man quite capable of losing himself in a cause; therefore, as he approached the other seconds, he came as a partisan of Rallywood's, resolved that his man should have his will in spite of all or any opposition.

'My principal,' he began, 'has just pointed out that this meeting is rather in the nature of the justification of an opinion than a quarrel in the ordinary sense;' then, repeating Rallywood's contention, he added, 'You will see that it remains for Lieutenant Unziar to prove himself in the right.'

Colendorp threw out a bitter oath, Adolf objected softly, and Jenard stood silent and in dismay. What could Rallywood mean by throwing away his life? But Adiron backed up Rallywood; he was going to bring this thing to pass! Rallywood should have a last satisfaction in this life, because he was worthy of it.

'If Lieutenant Unziar chooses to withdraw his opinion,' he said, 'of course Captain Rallywood will not go any further into the matter. For the rest, he has an appointment in less than seven minutes. On his behalf I can but insist that his suggestion affords the only possible way out of the difficulty.'

Reluctantly the other men yielded. Rallywood had gained a moral advantage. If he were destined to die, he would die in a manner that would go down into the history of the Guard. Hastily and in accordance with the request of Rallywood, the change of procedure was explained to Unziar.

The two opponents stood absolutely still, Rallywood's face wearing the expression of one who is politely interested in something that is happening to somebody else.

At the signal Unziar raised his pistol and fired.

Rallywood stood in his place for some thirty seconds, while there was a sound of splintering glass as the bullet rushed out into the darkness above the river; then he advanced smiling.

'It seems,' he said,'that I was right.'

Unziar stared at him.

Rallywood handed his pistol to Jenard, and bowing to the assembled men ceremoniously, he went on:

'I hope we may consider the affair concluded, and as I am engaged for the dance that is about to begin, I trust you will excuse me.'

And with another bow he was gone. No one spoke for a little while, then Unziar walked towards the others with no very pleasant face. That Rallywood had done a thing above reproach, and in a manner above reproach, made it none the easier for his pride to accept the result. But he was above all considerations and before all considerations true to himself—to Anthony Unziar.

'Captain Rallywood has made his point and a reputation,' he said at last. 'I think, Colendorp, you will agree with me that as men of honour we must consider the matter ended.'

'And in Captain Rallywood's favour?' asked Colendorp suddenly.

'Certainly. What do you say, gentlemen?' Adiron spoke with warmth.

'I suppose we must concede that it was neatly done, and that Captain Rallywood deserves his success,' agreed Adolf with some constraint.

Unziar's generosity rose to the occasion.

'Our gain in the Guard is your loss in the Cavalry, Colonel Jenard,' he said handsomely.

Jenard acknowledged the implied compliment, and went off leaving the three Guardsmen together.

'We shall have to swallow the Englishman after all,' said Colendorp blackly. 'How came you to miss him, Unziar?'

Unziar raised his eyebrows.

'Who can tell? Luck, I suppose,' replied he. 'But I, for one, am not sorry. The man's worth keeping.'

'He shapes well,' commented Adolf. 'But how will the chief take it?'

'I am going to find the Colonel and tell him what has happened,' said Unziar. 'I don't know how you fellows feel about it, but I say for myself that the Guard might have done a good deal worse.'

Colonel Wallenloup was at that moment engaged in promenading the ballroom with Valerie Selpdorf on his arm. She belonged to that sufficiently rare type of girl whose society is sought and enjoyed by those older men who, as a rule, are content to stand by and watch the current of younger life sweep by them, men who are in no sense gallants, but who find a strong attraction in talking to a young and clever woman on all kinds of subjects that too often lie outside the domain of the thoughts of youth. Youth, engrossed in the problem of self, persistently ignores those far more varied and profound problems to be found hidden in more experienced hearts and lives.

Wallenloup, who distrusted all women and was accordingly disliked by not a few, always claimed a waltz with Valerie whenever he had the good fortune to meet her. To him she was a woman worth talking to first, and a pretty girl afterwards.

Their dance having concluded, Wallenloup walked down the room with his partner, continuing his monologue. Valerie had been very silent, but the Colonel had more to say than usual, and his subject happened to be a very scathing condemnation of outside interference with the affairs of the Guard. Valerie listened without words. Perhaps her heart beat more quickly, and there may have been more anxiety in her mind as to the final upshot of the case in point than her companion could have guessed. But she showed a flattering amount of interest in his opinion, although she was well aware that the question was probably being settled once for all, as far as Rallywood was concerned, in St. Anthony's Cloister, without the help of Colonel Wallenloup.

Suddenly she leant a little more heavily on his arm.

'My dear Mademoiselle, what is the matter?' exclaimed the Colonel. 'You are pale. What is it?'

'I am tired, and the saloon has become so hot, but—thanks, I see my next partner coming,' she answered as Rallywood came towards them.

Wallenloup looked down at her with some reproach.

'This fellow?' he said.

'But why not?' she replied with a little smile. 'Is he not one of the Guard? Can I aspire to anything higher?'

'Captain Rallywood is not yet of the Guard!' said the old soldier; then he bowed coldly and turned on his heel, without giving any symptom of having recognized Rallywood beyond his scornful words.

'I have come, Mademoiselle,' said Rallywood.

The girl's pale cheeks were now touched with a delicate carmine, such as shines between the fingers of a hand held up against a light. The flush seemed to heighten and enhance her beauty, or rather it lent her a novel kindling charm that struck home upon Rallywood's mood.

'What have you been doing?' she asked with interest.

'Breaking glasses with the Guard,' he replied.

'That ceremony occasionally includes the use of a sword or a pistol.'

'I have used neither,' he replied.

'Are you then also a diplomatist?' she asked with quick scorn.

Rallywood pulled his moustache. He did not pretend to understand women, but that Mademoiselle Selpdorf should now despise him for escaping a danger she had half an hour ago trembled over and prayed to avert, seemed at best rather inconsistent.

'I have attempted to be diplomatic now and then, perhaps,' he said, 'but not always with conspicuous success.'

'Diplomacy was never meant,' she said, looking frowningly at him through her black lashes, 'never meant to be a private virtue. Its only excuse lies in a national necessity.'

'M. Selpdorf instructed me to avoid a quarrel,' rejoined Rallywood.

'What do you suppose he meant,' she asked bitterly, 'knowing you had to deal with the Guard?'

'Ah!' and a slow smile dawned in his eyes; 'now I wonder what he meant knowing I had to deal with the Guard?'

Valerie frowned again; her words were not particularly expedient under the circumstances, but she disliked having them flung back at her.

'I beg your pardon. Of course I know nothing of—of these things. The matter concerns you only. But I thought, and I am sorry for the mistake, that you looked like a man!'

There was a jingle of spurs behind her as she was about to turn away, and Colonel Wallenloup strode up hurriedly.

'Captain Rallywood, why are you not wearing the uniform of your regiment—of the Guard?' he asked in a loud tone.

There was a stir amongst the people about them; many stopped and drew nearer to hear the end of this unprecedented conversation.

'Because I intend to resign my commission to-morrow, sir,' replied Rallywood haughtily.

'On the part of the Guard, I beg of you to reconsider that decision,' urged Wallenloup.

He shook hands gravely with the young man, then detaching a star of gun-metal from his breast, he awkwardly attempted to fasten it to the lapel of Rallywood's coat. 'I see you have not the star of the Guard. May I give you mine? Unziar, see to this; I cannot attach it.'

'No, Colonel Wallenloup; that should rather be my duty,' said the Countess Sagan, who happened to be standing by.

Wallenloup grunted.

'As the wife of our colonel-in-chief, madame, I feel sure your kindness will be appreciated,' he said grimly.

Madame de Sagan's blue eyes glanced up into Rallywood's face as her fingers touched his breast.

'No, as your friend,' she said softly.

Then all at once Rallywood discovered how numerous were his friends and well-wishers in Maasau. He was overwhelmed with congratulations and introductions, but the memory of that night which lingered longest with him was the tall figure of Valerie Selpdorf standing aside and looking coldly on. She expressed no pleasure at the turn events had taken, she offered no congratulations, but she met Unziar with what was only too plainly a mocking comment on the little scene, and the next moment was floating down the long room in the young Maasaun's arms to the music of the last waltz.



CHAPTER VII.

ONE WOMAN'S DIPLOMACY.

There are men who though conspicuously in the world are never of it. Counsellor was one of these. He gave the impression of being a spectator; one who looked on at the play of common ambitions and intrigues with an amused and impersonal interest. He was drawn into no quarrels. Those who hated him most continued to shake hands with him, and none could accuse him of being a partisan. Yet he was rather truculent than meek, entirely ready to give his opinion, often with a surprising frankness, but maintaining throughout the complex relations of his life a superb reserve that formed a defence behind which neither favour nor enmity could penetrate.

He stayed on at Revonde, though the tsa continued to blow relentlessly. Affairs were yet in a chaotic condition and he lingered grumblingly at the club, declaring it was too cold to travel, and apparently finding his chief relaxation in privately deriding Rallywood for the favours which Revonde society was thrusting so lavishly upon him.

In the untiring whirl and tangle of court life and gaiety Rallywood lived and moved with a growing enjoyment that half surprised himself, and for which he accounted on the score of change from the dull drudgery of the frontier. His acceptance by the Guard had been thorough; even the colonel-in-chief, Count Sagan, whose strongest point was not courtesy, had given him a pronounced recognition. The pretty Countess demanded a good deal of his attention and attendance, and this fact brought down upon him some of Counsellor's most scathing jeers.

'Gallantries are in vogue, my boy, and you are qualifying for a high place amongst the Maasauns,' he said. 'She is a deuced pretty woman. I offer you my compliments.'

'She is pretty,' replied Rallywood, 'but there are a good many people in Maasau who think her handsomer than I do.'

'Yet you tell me that you are again on your way to her house this evening. Can't you get through the day without a glimpse of her?'

'Does it seem so bad as all that?' asked Rallywood reflectively. 'Yes, I suppose I like going there; yet as I have said before, there are a good many people who appreciate her more than I do.'

'Then what in the world takes you there?'

An odd expression grew slowly into the young man's face.

'Because of the other people, I suppose,' he repeated dreamily.

'As for instance?'

Rallywood woke up from his thoughts and shook himself.

'Unziar,' he returned with a grin.

Counsellor opened the stove and threw in the remnant of his cigar.

'Ah!' he commented significantly; 'and I presume Unziar goes there to meet you. I begin to see.'

Rallywood laughed.

'I'm hanged if I do! By the way, the Countess wants of all things to make a friend of you. She says the English are so reliable. But you are such an old bear the women can't get at you.'

'So much the better for me,' was the grim reply. 'Also I am sorry that I can't reciprocate the Countess's opinion of me. There are very few reliable women. If I had ever found one I might have married her.'

'That is a hard saying, Major. You've been unlucky. That's where it hurts with you!'

'No, I've no personal feeling in the matter. I share the opinion in common with many wise men. Let me refer you to Solomon, the census of whose harem warrants us in believing that what he didn't know about women wasn't worth knowing. Yet he records as his experience, "One man among a thousand have I found; but a woman among all these have I not found."'

'I bet he didn't! You can't sample a delicate quality in the bulk,' retorted Rallywood, and was already at the door when an idea stopped him. 'Look here, Major; come with me and revise your verdict.'

To his surprise Counsellor stood up and asked one more question.

'Countess Isolde invited me?'

'Any number of times, as you know.'

'The more fool she,' growled Counsellor; 'I'll go.'

The cotillon, danced with its hundred absurdities, was as fashionable at Revonde as elsewhere. Counsellor, like a courtly bear, was induced to join in its whimsical vagaries.

The details of the cotillon obtaining at that period do not concern us here. It is sufficient to say that, as a result of some evolution, by chance or by choice Counsellor found himself with the Countess on a raised dais at one end of the room, while Mademoiselle Selpdorf and Rallywood formed the corresponding couple at the other end. Between them the dance proceeded, thus leaving the respective couples virtually isolated for a few minutes.

'It was delightful of you to come to our little party to-night,' the Countess was saying to her companion. 'Now that you have come to see me here, can I not induce you to come also to Sagan next week? We are going out there for a few days. Do think of it.'

'You are too kind, my dear madame, but an old man like myself may be out of place.'

The Countess sighed a little.

'Of course you are not at all old,' she said, shaking her head at him, 'though you are fond of playing the part. But if you want to be old you can be old in good company at the Castle, for the Duke will be there—you know he is a cousin of ours.'

Counsellor looked back into the smiling blue eyes. Most men would have succumbed to their innocent flattery. To the Major they only suggested an infinite capacity for foolishness.

'Don't you think we could exchange our Duke for another, a more interesting one?' she added, misled perhaps by his look. 'Duke Gustave is so wrapped up in his stupid gambling, and altogether there are many things——' her speech tailed off inconsequently into a confused silence.

'Wanting? Certainly! For example, we have no Duchess,' said Counsellor gallantly. 'We need a pretty Duchess. But is it not possible that Maasau may yet boast the most adorable Duchess in Europe?'

Countess Isolde started and flushed like a pleased child, and her eyes lit up as she laid her fan on Counsellor's stout knee with a confidential impulsive gesture.

'But England does not like the idea of pretty Duchesses?' she ventured reproachfully. 'And you are only a flatterer after all!'

The Major raised his bushy white eyebrows.

'Have I that reputation?'

'No, they say you are terribly frank;' then a design to sound this difficult and usually unapproachable diplomat came into her irrational head. Older men than he had been vanquished by her beauty ere now. 'England has not yet recognized my husband's claim as next heir,' she whispered. 'Major Counsellor, do you think your nation could ever be brought to recognize me as Duchess?'

'If the occasion arose,' answered the wily old soldier softly, 'I do not see—speaking as a man—how any request of yours could be refused. But I cannot answer for my nation. Still, if the occasion arose——' he hesitated as if searching for words, but in reality, waiting for his companion to take up the unfinished sentence.

The Countess trembled with excitement. This was indeed a triumph. She, 'silly Isolde,' as old Sagan was ever ready to call her, had gained a little bit of information they would give their ears to possess, but she would keep it and use it at her leisure. Meanwhile she must strike while the iron of old Counsellor's nature was yet hot.

'But the occasion will arise, believe me! Perhaps soon, at Sagan!' As she spoke she started violently, and her face turned white as Count Sagan stood before them.

'Do you feel inclined for a hand of whist, Counsellor?' he said abruptly, with a wrathful, questioning glance at his wife. 'Has my wife been boring you with her chatter?'

'On the contrary, Major Counsellor has promised to join us at the Castle next week,' exclaimed his wife.

Sagan's bloodshot eyes darkened. He had the guile of a plotter, but lacked something of the self-control. Counsellor, who appeared to be watching the dancers, turned upon this and added:

'And I have been thanking Madame de Sagan for the invitation.'

'Ah, I knew you wouldn't come! Well, you will lose nothing. We shall have a houseful of fools,' interrupted the Count roughly.

'I have already accepted, and will with your permission, Count, be one of the fools,' replied Counsellor genially.

The Countess understood she had in some way put her foot in it, but as the two men walked away together she nodded complacently to herself, with the words, 'I know what I know!'

The tide of dancers still swept backwards and forwards as Madame de Sagan idly observed them, until her glance chanced to fall upon the opposite couple at the further end of the saloon. Something in Valerie's air fixed her wandering attention at once with a little shock. What was Rallywood saying to her? And where was Anthony Unziar? The Countess Isolde had to the full the all-devouring vanity of her type, but now, for once in her life, she felt desirous of forwarding a love affair that was not her own.

'You are going to Sagan, of course?' Valerie had said to her partner as they stood together.

'I think not,' Rallywood replied.

'I thought you would be sure to be in attendance'—she glanced carelessly towards the dais where the Countess was at the moment laying her fan on Counsellor's knee—'as usual.'

'No, Unziar is the lucky man,' Rallywood answered without significance in his tone.

'Nonsense! Anthony is her cousin!' said the girl impatiently.

Rallywood's grey eyes were on her face.

'Whose cousin? What do you mean?' he asked innocently.

Valerie bit her lip. She hated this Englishman. Of all her acquaintances he alone, in his blundering way, was able to put her somehow at a disadvantage.

'When the Duke goes to Sagan,' she said, without noticing his question, 'the Count has the privilege as colonel-in-chief of the Guard, of inviting any two officers he pleases to act with the escort. So we shall see.'

'I wonder,' said Rallywood after a pause, 'where you get your impressions from, Mademoiselle?'

'I see—like other people. We all form our judgments on what we see and—know!'

'What do you know, for instance?'

'I heard of you when you were at Kofn Ford, near the Castle of Sagan,' she answered.

Rallywood was only human, and however moderately he may have returned Madame de Sagan's preference, he was fully aware of its existence. In those days on the frontier he had, rather from fastidiousness than principle perhaps, avoided her and her invitations whenever possible. But that was one thing; it was another to hear the matter coolly alluded to by the girl beside him. Involuntarily he drew a little away from her. His notions were founded less on actual knowledge and experience of women—for of that he had little—than gathered from that idealized version of the sex with which the right-minded male animal is usually furnished by his own mental and emotional processes. So far his intercourse with Isolde of Sagan had been limited to certain sentimental passages; the initiative lay with the lady, but Rallywood had once or twice been distinctly wrought upon by the appeals to his sympathy and pity. Now, however, looked at from a fresh standpoint, the one in fact from which Valerie viewed it, the subject became suddenly repellent, and he slid away from the discussion with another question.

'What has Unziar been saying of me? You have treated me differently since—that night.'

There appeared to be no need to particularize the night.

Mademoiselle Selpdorf understood both the first involuntary movement and the change of subject, and resented them equally.

'Anthony is generous, so generous!' she said with some warmth. 'I suppose it is an English trait to take everything and to give nothing in return. Anthony told me of all that took place in the Cloister of St. Anthony. Your action seemed to him so fine, poor fellow!—but not to me. You believed in your luck, of course, and took the hazard and won, leaving him hopelessly at a disadvantage. I should not have accepted the position as he did—I should have forced you to fight it out sooner or later! I had rather a hundred times have died by your bullet than lived to endure your triumph!'

Rallywood pondered this view of the matter before he spoke.

'I dare say you are right,' he said at last; 'at least, no woman could have been so generous to another woman as he was to me.'

'You are complimentary, Captain Rallywood!'

'I beg your pardon. I only meant that women are not generous as between themselves. Looked at from your point of view, I see that I was wrong about that affair with Unziar. But more than all, it proves he is a splendid fellow.'

Now Unziar's praise from Rallywood's lips displeased Mademoiselle Selpdorf almost more than all which had gone before.

'It is easy to say these things, but'—she rose eagerly—'at last that figure is ended. What a stupid interval it has been!' she added with a little smile.

'I am sorry. I always have the misfortune to bore you,' Rallywood said, accepting his snub meekly.

'Never mind! You can't help it!' she responded with a pleasant nod as she left him.

Rallywood remained standing where he was.

'A very nasty one indeed for me. I shouldn't wonder, though, if she forgave me for the sake of that last back-handed blow!' he reflected with some amusement.

Which proves that Revonde was teaching Rallywood something that has its own value at one period or another of a man's life. He was too poor to dream of marrying anyone, much less the daughter of the Chancellor of Maasau, a woman whose training and tastes had not been guided on the lines of simplicity or economy. That Valerie Selpdorf attracted him was a truth to which his eyes began to be opened at the moment when Counsellor asked him why he haunted Madame de Sagan's entertainments. Then it had struck him that the almost certain chance of meeting Valerie was his chief motive, yet he believed it was safe to divulge to himself, since the girl bitterly disliked him, and he, in the strength of the insular and Puritan side of his nature, disapproved of her. It was the pleasure of the hour, no one looked beyond that in Revonde, and Rallywood had fallen into the universal habit of drifting.

'You are thoughtful. What can you have been talking about?' asked the Countess, coming up.

'Mademoiselle Selpdorf has been giving her opinion of me. It is not flattering, and I am depressed,' returned Rallywood, hoping the Countess meant to talk of Valerie.

'Has she? She is often absurd in her ideas. But we need not talk of her. To turn to something pleasanter, do you know that I have just persuaded Major Counsellor to come to us at Sagan?'

Rallywood instantly perceived that the three or four days at the old frontier castle might prove to be a singularly interesting period, and regretted that he was not to be a guest also.

'And you are coming too, are you not?' went on Madame de Sagan, with a note in her voice that Rallywood was learning to dread.

'I fancy not. Unziar and Adiron have been mentioned.'

'Yes, Anthony Unziar, because he is my cousin, and for the sake of Valerie. Also Captain Colendorp. I do not like him, he is always black and sneering, but the Count chose him yesterday, and then I suggested yourself. They were rather doubtful about you, but Baron von Elmur consented. And I was so glad—Jack!'

The friendship had been progressing, it will be perceived, during the last three weeks. But Rallywood made no immediate response, being absorbed in digesting the information she had given him. That the German minister should be permitted to dictate the guests for the three days' festivities at the Castle was in itself a pregnant fact. But further, the Germans had never before possessed old Sagan's confidence; his dislike of the encroaching mammoth, whom the whole little nation feared, was notorious. This new departure was therefore ominous.

'I had no notion that Baron von Elmur liked me any better than my countrymen,' said Rallywood aloud.

'Ah, no, perhaps not; but now, you will understand, he wishes to please me!' Countess Isolde answered with an air of mysterious importance.

'He is not alone in wishing to do that,' returned Rallywood, ashamed even as he uttered it, of the meaningless compliment.

'Jack,' she said, with a proud raising of her blonde head, 'you are my friend, and of course you wish to please me. But everyone will want to stand well with me some day—when I have power—and then you shall see what I will do for those whom I wish to please!'

Every word she spoke added to the certainty that some new plot was afoot, and Rallywood glanced round for Counsellor's stout figure.

'You are glad to come to Sagan?' persisted his companion; 'say you are glad.'

'I've never been more glad of anything in my life!' Rallywood replied with truth, and then, his good angel rather than his mother's wit coming to his rescue, he got away from the dancing-salon, and found Counsellor at the entrance preparing to leave.

'I'll walk round with you, Major,' he proposed.

'I'm not going your way,' replied Counsellor. 'Besides, I wish to drive. Hullo, you have got hold of my gloves!' and snatching at the gloves—which happened to be Rallywood's—he thrust his own into the young man's hand, saying in a low voice as he did so, 'Be on the Cloister Bridge in half an hour. Good-night!'

At the appointed time, Rallywood, having replaced his military greatcoat by one less remarkable, was waiting on the bridge, when he was accosted by a hunchbacked fellow in a shabby Maasaun sheepskin, who dropped a rough English 'Good-night,' as he passed. Presently Rallywood followed him until they came out into an open country road where the biting tsa met them full face.

'This tsa is deadly! Quick! what is it you have to tell me?' said Counsellor's voice.

Rallywood answered in a few rapid sentences.

'Yes, I fancied something of the kind was due. What an inestimable blessing it is that such women as the Countess Sagan exist—to satisfy diplomatic curiosity! We must find out the precise limits of the German game at the Castle of Sagan. It is lucky for you, John, my son, that your duty as a Maasaun soldier to the Maasaun nation and as an Englishman to your own, run in this instance on the same lines.'

'They always will.'

'Don't be too sure of that! There may come a day when your public and your private honour will stand face to face, hopelessly irreconcilable. What then?'

'When anything so extremely awkward comes to pass, I suppose I shall have to make up my mind on the subject,' replied Rallywood with a lazy yawn, 'in the meantime it is to much trouble. Just at present my part is simple, and I look for the game to turn in our favor.'

Counsellor stood still, as if in consideration, for a minute.

'The stake may seem to be a small one—just this useless scrap of country,' he said at length, 'but the issues are far-reaching, and therefore all Europe is taking a hand in the game. How will it end? I don't know! The Fates shuffle and men handle the cards, but God cuts! Thirty years' experience has taught me that. I didn't believe it once—I do now.'



CHAPTER VIII.

A QUESTION OF THE GUARD.

The really great strategist is not the man who loves an intricate plot. His method is simple, he eliminates.

On a certain cold morning, when the sun shone pinkly through a sea-haze over the glittering roofs of Revonde, a review of the Guard, and of a few regiments that happened to be stationed within a short distance of the capital, was to be held, in honour of the Duke's birthday, on the spacious parade ground of the Guard, which occupied the whole of a small plateau lying high between the beetling hills behind the barracks.

Baron von Elmur paid an early visit to the Chancellor on his way to the review, and found M. Selpdorf, though brisk and urbane as ever, a little difficult.

'We do not progress, Monsieur,' Elmur was saying.

'What would you, my dear Baron? we have so many obstacles in our path,' answered the other, shrugging his shoulders good-humoredly.

Elmur leaned his elbow on the table.

'I know that delay can conduce to no good end,' he said. 'You have agreed that a certain course is desirable no less for your country than mine.'

'Have I agreed to that proposition? Not altogether! Remember, I cannot be expected to see with German eyes.'

'Even to the most patriotic Maasaun it must be evident that sooner or later the State must fall to us; it is merely a question of time.'

'The time has already been long,' said the Chancellor softly.

'For an excellent reason: because we have not always been as now, a huge bulk. The bulk of the new Empire must by force of gravitation attract all the smaller bodies round to itself. It is by a miracle only that Maasau has stood alone so long.'

'And by another miracle she might go on standing alone a little longer.'

'This is not the age of miracles, my friend!'

'I remember also something which your Excellency forgets,' said Selpdorf, with a touch of sadness in his voice, 'that there have been Selpdorfs helping in this miracle of the independence of Maasau for generations.'

Elmur altered his attitude with an open impatience.

'You are a far-sighted patriot, Monsieur. It is needless to repeat that if Maasau joins the confederation of the Empire by her own act she will do so on very different terms to any which could possibly be conceded to a state that had forced upon us the unpleasant necessity of coercion. Remember Frankfurt! She paid for her obstinacy. Whereas we are prepared to deal generously towards those who cast in their lot with ours. Besides,' he added significantly, 'I am urging you to consult not only the interests of Maasau, but your own also.'

'They are the same, and it is difficult to know where our true interest lies,' said Selpdorf, thoughtfully. 'Do you go to the Castle of Sagan next week?'

The abrupt change of subject seemed to have its effect upon Elmur. He turned away from the table, crossed his legs, and lit a cigarette in a leisurely manner before he answered.

'Yes; and you, Monsieur?'

'I have no inclination for these gaieties; but my daughter goes.' Von Elmur shot a glance at his companion.

'To repeat my own words—we do not progress, my dear Selpdorf.'

'So? Women finesse in these affairs. Valerie follows the custom of her sex, and perhaps she has become a little spoilt by overmuch admiration. Were she aware of your wishes, it would solve many of the present doubts.'

'It takes two to make that especial kind of bargain,' said Elmur, with a curious smile, 'one to ask, the other to grant. I am prepared to ask when I am assured that my request will be favourably received. An ambassador is esteemed in just the same degree as the country he represents. If his country triumph he triumphs also.'

'In this case I might point out that your personal success,' the Chancellor said airily, 'would be the best, shall I say the only possible, preliminary to the success of the mission with which his Imperial Majesty has charged you.'

Elmur drew in his lips slightly. Valerie, as the Baroness von Elmur, was to be her father's guarantee for the future! Although Elmur's desires lay in the same direction, Selpdorf's insistence was most unpalatable to the German minister.

'I am ready to lay myself at Mademoiselle's feet,' he said aloud, 'but there is always the picturesque young captain of the Guard.'

'Unziar? I can positively reassure your Excellency on that point.'

'Unziar? No! The Englishman—Rallywood.'

'Rallywood?' said the Chancellor in very real surprise, 'what of him?'

'Nothing beyond the fact that he has an aptitude for challenging fate. Such men dazzle the eyes, and are consequently apt to be dangerous. Why has he been placed in the Guard?'

'I placed him there to serve our mutual convenience,' replied Selpdorf. 'He is an Englishman, with his full share of English intolerance and courage. On the other hand, the Guard resent the intrusion of foreigners, neither are they—mild-mannered.'

Elmur considered.

'The chances were in favour of trouble certainly. Had there been trouble Rallywood might have disposed of some of our chief difficulties for us,' he remarked, with a cynical smile.

'He might also have been disposed of himself,' said Selpdorf, 'and he is the one human being for whom the good Counsellor has the slightest regard. In politics it is necessary to consider the personal equation. To touch Counsellor in his weakest point would have been to alienate England at the convenient moment.'

'All that might have been true'—Elmur shrugged his shoulders; 'unluckily we must face things as they actually are.'

'Even now Rallywood has his uses. The Guard is composed of the flower of our nobility—they are not to be tempted. At least that is my opinion, although I believe Count Sagan holds differently. But this Rallywood is a soldier of fortune, a mercenary. You perceive?'

Elmur stroked his chin dubiously.

'I am very much afraid he belongs to the wrong breed. However, I would wish to point out that it will be essential to carry through this matter quickly. If the Duke could be persuaded to accept the scheme of reversion, the whole arrangement would be completed before the world was the wiser.'

'It is the simplest plan, and therefore the best. But what will England say? Counsellor is here, that in itself speaks.'

'Neither England nor the good Counsellor can touch an accomplished fact. As they say in their own idiom, "Possession is nine parts of the law." It remains with us to make the fact.'

Selpdorf arose.

'Your Excellency will excuse me. It is time to start for the palace. To-day his Highness the Duke holds a review of the Guard. I will if possible sound him on the subject which interests us both. Should that fail, we must consider the alternative scheme.'

Half-an-hour later the two men met again as they dismounted in the courtyard of the palace. They approached each other courteously.

'There stands the real obstacle to our success,' said Elmur in a low tone.

Selpdorf followed the German Minister's glance. Standing there, in the fire-light of the guard-room, was the tall figure of Anthony Unziar, waiting with haughty stiffness for the appearance of the Duke.

'His Highness's gentlemen, the Maasaun Guard,' went on Elmur with a bitter sneer, 'the impersonation of an arrogant militarism!'

'Seven—to be counted with,' corrected Selpdorf gently. 'The other, the eighth——'

'Has the initial fault of nationality. However, he goes to Sagan.'

The mist cleared as the sun rose higher until, by noon, the sky was of a pale radiant blue laced with a delicate broidery of white wind-scattered clouds. Looking westward the dark river wound away to the sea, ringed here and there by the highly decorated bridges of light-toned granite peculiar to Maasau. Revonde, in the sunshine, shone in the colours of a moss-grown stone, gray and green, the twin ridges on which it stood fretted and embossed to their summits with the palaces and pinnacles, the spires and towers, and gardens of the spreading city. The Grand Duke, as they rounded the mounting road to the parade ground, looked back upon Revonde with a lingering glance. Selpdorf who was seated opposite to him, had been replying to his grumbling questions as to the condition of the royal exchequer with a depressing account of the hopelessness of the situation.

'Revonde is a jewel after all!' said the Duke suddenly; 'a jewel can always be mortgaged, Selpdorf.'

Selpdorf admitted that this was true, and also hinted that the jewel had been used in one way or another pretty freely to raise the revenues for a good many years, without giving much in the way of a quid pro quo, beyond the vague hopes and airy promises which pledged the Maasaun government to little or nothing. But now, he explained, the Powers were growing weary of so unprofitable a speculation, and were inclined to expect some definite return for their assistance.

The Duke listened moodily, lying back on his cushions, a thin-legged, paunchy figure, whose features had lost their shapely mould under the touch of dissipation. The nose hung long and fleshy between the pouched skin of his cheekbones, the eyes showed a tell-tale slackness in the under eyelid, where it merged into the loose wrinkles below. The lower part of the face was covered by a long but sparse moustache, through which at times could be discerned that terrible protrusion of the upper lip that seems the herald of senility. Yet Gustave, Grand Duke of Maasau, was only that day celebrating the completion of his fifty-seventh year.

Where the carriage attained the level of the plateau, the main road curved away inland to the right, while upon the left hand, under the wall of encircling brown cliffs, a small brigade of all arms was assembled to do honour to their ruler. Through a cut in the hills far away, but seemingly nearer on that windy morning, could be seen a blue open bay, blown into the 'innumerable laughter of the sea.' The air, the whole scene, was inspiriting, but the Duke looked heavily on as the troops deployed and turned, their arms glittering in the sunlight.

First in order came a couple of squadrons of the Frontier Cavalry, with their black sheepskins hanging behind them; then infantry, followed by two batteries of artillery divided by some more cavalry, and, after a distinct interval, the Guard.

The little army was perfect in equipment and finish, and their uniforms were brilliant and picturesque; but the Duke stared out of the amphitheatre of the parade ground with dissatisfaction and ennui. Money, he wanted money, and the less the Chancellor could encourage him to hope for it the more he desired to have it by hook or by crook.

The Grand Marshal of Maasau having been dismissed from the side of the royal carriage with a few curt words, the Duke spoke again, in a low tone to Selpdorf.

'Then you wish me to understand that there is no more to be got out of anybody. I know better than that. England, Germany, and Russia, are waiting to outbid each other.'

'That is true, sire; but they will not deal on the old terms.'

The Guard, with scattered pennons flying, were drawn up at the lower end of the parade ground. The chief effect of the day was about to take place—the charge of the Guard.

'I am now of an age,' remarked the Duke peevishly, 'when my birthdays have ceased to be a cause for congratulation. This review is an anachronism. In my father's time I rode at the head of the Guard, and led a charge on the day I was eighteen. Pish! I have grown wiser, and know how to enjoy life after a more rational fashion. To return to our other subject—What do they want?'

Selpdorf smiled, and passed his fingers upwards over the erect corners of his moustache.

'For example, there is a power that might pay a heavy annual sum if your Highness would consent to disband your Guard!' he said, with a tentative smile.

The slack fallen lines of the Duke's visage grew suddenly tense. His eyes brightened as the tossing mass in green and gold swept down towards them in a thunder of hoofs, and the long-drawn shout of 'Maasau,' with which the Guard have charged home on so many a battlefield.

As the splendid ranks of horsemen crashed past under a flashing play of saluting swords, the Duke pulled himself erect in his carriage and raised his gloved hand in acknowledgment with a strong fling of enthusiasm that recalled to men present other and better days.

Selpdorf's brow lost its round smoothness for a short moment, but cleared again before the Duke dropped back with a groan into his seat.

'Disband the Guard? What traitor suggested that? May the Guard shoot me first! I'd rather rot of starvation than consent to it! For with the Guard is bound up the freedom of Maasau!'

Presently he turned upon the Chancellor with a glooming and suspicious gaze.

'Has Sagan been tampering with you?' he asked, with a sneer, 'if he tempted you now it would only be to betray you later! He hankers after Maasau, but remember my cousin in England. He has claims which cannot be over-ridden.'

Selpdorf remained respectfully silent for a short time, revolving the extremely important admission with regard to the second claimant to the heritage of the Duchy, which the Duke in his excitement had made.

The first and simpler plan of persuading the Duke to enter into an understanding with Germany, to the effect that she should enjoy the reversion of Maasau in exchange for the payment of a secured annuity, was plainly hopeless. It now remained to put in motion the second scheme, which contained elements of infinitely greater danger.

Human nature is a complex thing, yet each man's attitude of mind towards himself, is often only an extension of his attitude of mind towards his neighbour.

What the Chancellor said to himself to whitewash his conduct in his own eyes, who can tell? The Duke, old vice-sodden reprobate as he was, had that one remnant of manhood left, a determination to face the last and most absolute contingency of life rather than sell his country.

Perhaps Selpdorf used that most guilty of all excuses—If I do not put my hand to this thing someone else will. Maasau must fall sooner or later to some larger power. May not I profit by it as well as another? Did he set his house of excuse upon the sand of a certain bitter writing? 'I will persuade them,' said Satan—'I will make them two idols, which they shall call Honour and Fidelity, and a law which shall be called passive obedience. And they shall worship these idols!' If Honour, Fidelity, and Obedience be idols, where then, are the true gods?



CHAPTER IX.

THE CASTLE OF SAGAN.

The broadly flowing Kofn forms part of the north-eastern boundary of the State of Maasau. Its dark waters rush tumultuously from the gorge below the Castle of Sagan, and fling a vast enclosing arm about the bleak plains and marshes of which the wastes of the frontier consist.

It is a land where even summer dwells coldly.

To the north a chain of hills rises black against the sky, and there, set upon a boldly jutting spur, the Castle of Sagan dominates the inhospitable landscape like a frown upon a sinister face.

The whole spur and the hill behind it are rough with ragged pine-woods, and, below, the banks shelve to the river with a broken scattering of deciduous trees, that leave on the eye the chill impression of leafless branches tangled against a background of grey and stony slopes.

Some two or three miles south of the Castle the river breaks across a step-like outcrop of rock, and thus forms that famous ford, across which the Counts of Sagan used in the old days to lead their foraging expeditions over the border.

Simon of Sagan, the present Count, inherited in an unmodified degree the more predatory and uncivilized instincts of his forefathers. Illiterate, brutal, and cunning, the thin veneer laid by the nineteenth century upon his coarse-grained nature was apt to rub off on the very slightest friction, bringing the original savage to the surface.

He was at once the terror and the pride of the stolid, silent peasantry that lived under his rule. A fierce and fearless sportsman, his dependents delighted in boasting of the prowess of a master whose capricious cruelties they never dreamed of resenting. With Sagan, throughout life, to desire was to have, and in his pursuit of the wished-for object, he was hampered by no new-fangled sentiments of honour, truth, or loyalty. Like other savages he quickly tired of his fancies when once gratified. Not four years ago he had been possessed by a frantic passion for the beautiful young wife whom he had now come to regard with something dangerously near hate.

In dealing with such a temperament as this both Elmur and Selpdorf were well aware that they were handling an explosive that might at any moment wreck their most carefully laid plans. They would very much have preferred to have made a tool of the reigning Duke, but Selpdorf, who had been plying him for more than a month with a ceaseless and exhaustive course of innuendo, discouragement, and veiled temptation, was at length convinced, by the Duke's reply on the day of the review, that nothing further was to be hoped for in that direction.

For this reason the German party was obliged to fall back on Count Sagan. That he was untrammelled by principle, and was, moreover, prepared to meet them half-way, rendered their schemes no whit safer. The only hope of security lay in clinching the matter as quickly as it was possible to do so. Once the German grasp had been fairly laid upon the State, the nominal sovereign might struggle as he liked, he could hurt no one but himself.

M. Selpdorf's chief contribution towards the new plot—which was to be carried out at the Count's own fortress, the Castle of Sagan—consisted in sending an urgent letter after his daughter, begging her to fall in with von Elmur's wishes.

Valerie received the letter in Madame de Sagan's apartments. The Countess lay on a couch, reading a French novel and yawning.

'What a devoted papa!' she exclaimed, glancing up.

Valerie did not immediately reply. She was standing at the deep embayed window that looked out towards the river and the apparently endless desolation beyond. She only moved very slightly, thereby turning her back even more completely upon her companion. The girl had not lived so long in an atmosphere of diplomacy without learning the wisdom of keeping her own counsel.

She had for some time been aware of Baron von Elmur's admiration, but only of late had he seemed anxious to make his aspirations manifest to the public—a much more significant fact. For the German was in one way a universal admirer, he made qualified love to most of the good-looking ladies about the Court, and also, perhaps, more pointedly, to some who were not so good-looking, thus gaining much profit and some pleasure. His high-shouldered, portly, personable figure, his handsome face with its close-set narrow eyes, rose before Valerie's mental eye. Her future husband? How absurd, how impossible! And she suddenly laughed a soft, throaty ripple of laughter.

Isolde moved noiselessly, and coming behind Valerie, caught her by the shoulders and swung her half round.

'What are you laughing at?' she asked over the girl's shoulder.

Valerie moved away gently from under the slender hands.

'Can you imagine yourself in love with Baron von Elmur?' she asked.

'Were you laughing at that?' inquired the other incredulously.

'Yes,' with another little laugh.

'Ah! the devoted papa has been writing of Baron von Elmur?' said the Countess, with an arch smile.

'But, I can understand being in love with von Elmur! He is—difficult. Men no longer in their first youth are much the more interesting. The love of a young man is simple, he says what he means; but when he grows older it is not so. By that time he has gathered memories, enlightenment, experiences; and he begins by thinking he knows one through and through. And why?—because he knows other women—and them how imperfectly! As if we were not as various as the colours in the old Sagan diadem! Each woman is made differently, and each reflects her own colour. To teach a man—old enough to appreciate it—this little fact about ourselves is, I assure you, never a dull amusement.'

Valerie paused before she spoke.

'Now I know why you are married, Isolde!'

'Ah, yes; but I was too young to realize that Sagan is a bear who cannot be taught to dance. I had just left school. I could not choose. But you, Valerie, you have a future before you! Poor Anthony, like all other young men, is desperately in earnest, he gives one the blues. I know he already bores you; but von Elmur——Ah, that is altogether another affair!'

Madame de Sagan sank down beside a little buhl-table, and tapped on it impatiently with her slight fingers. Against the light of the afternoon glow she watched the outline of Valerie's cheek. For Mdlle. Selpdorf had returned to her contemplation of the landscape. A curl of blue smoke from among the trees on the nearer bank of the Kofn held her gaze and suggested thoughts, which she was taking up one by one, as it were, and examining soberly enough.

Rallywood had been stationed at Kofn Ford when first Isolde made his acquaintance. The girl recalled a description she had heard of the tall young Englishman galloping along the flat road to the rescue of the pretty, terrified Countess, whose Arab had been merely cantering along, capering now and again from sheer light-heartedness and without malicious intent, until its timid rider chose to scream, when it reared and started with flying hoofs towards the marshes. Valerie went on to picture Rallywood holding the trembling woman on her saddle till her escort and grooms overtook them, and at the picture the girl's lip curled and quivered with angry scorn—of a sudden she hated and despised them both, but especially she despised Rallywood for having succumbed to Isolde's shallow beauty! Thus it will be seen that Mdlle. Selpdorf was inclined to under-rate Madame de Sagan's points. Isolde was not only wonderfully pretty, but she was endowed with a superficial cleverness, and kindliness and tact, all of which rendered her irresistible to nine men out of ten. A moral chameleon, Isolde almost always believed in herself and her own moods, therefore it was little wonder that the men whose phases of humour she reflected believed in her also, and moreover thought her as adorable and as full of delicious changes as Cleopatra.

Isolde had told the story of her adventure to Valerie, dwelling on the facts that the hero detested—absolutely detested—all other women, also that in physique he followed the most approved English pattern, and was an exceptionally good specimen at that. Altogether Valerie had found the description sufficiently attractive to induce her to pay Rallywood that coquettish little visit in the ante-room of the Hotel du Chancelier.

While these things passed through her thoughts her eyes were still fixed upon the blue plume of smoke that rose and melted over Kofn Ford, for its position indicated the whereabouts of the block-house used by the Frontier Patrol, and there Rallywood had lived during the early part of his acquaintance with Isolde.

'What are you thinking of?' inquired Madame de Sagan suddenly; then, as Valerie made no immediate answer, she added, 'Shall I tell you, Valerie?'

The other turned, with the pink of sunset lighting up her pale face.

'I don't imagine you can guess,' she said, with a faint smile.

Madame de Sagan's little trill of laughter was not quite so childish and irresponsible as usual.

'But I can. You were thinking of Rallywood. You think rather often of Rallywood, my dear girl.'

The guess, so near the truth, startled Valerie, although she gave no sign. What could have suggested such an idea to Isolde? Instantly Valerie was on the defensive. Her delicate nostrils quivered slightly, and her hand—a larger and more capable hand than Isolde's—closed more firmly upon her father's letter, as she replied, with that firm directness which was so surprising a trait in her father's daughter:—

'Yes, I was thinking of him—and you. The block-house where he lived is down there, I can see the smoke. That reminded me of it all. By the way, Isolde, it seems that some young men have a shade of interest about them.'

'This one is rather unlike all the others,' returned Madame de Sagan, with gravity. 'He saved my life, and, well, he is different to anybody else. He assumes nothing.'

It is a fact worthy of consideration that while a man rarely establishes a claim on a woman by rendering her a service, a woman always establishes a claim on a man by being rendered a service. Perhaps this is as it should be.

'No,' repeated Valerie, thoughtfully, 'he certainly assumes—nothing.'

'What do you mean by that, Valerie?' exclaimed Isolde irritably. 'You are in one of your incomprehensible moods to-day. What do you think of Rallywood?'

'I hardly know what to think yet. Very likely I shall never come to any conclusion about him. He is not my affair, and what can be more uninteresting than a man who has saved some other woman's life?' She laughed. 'You have recommended von Elmur to my notice—I shall certainly spend my time to more profit in studying him.'

A servant entered.

'His Excellency Baron von Elmur wishes to wait upon your ladyship.'

Elmur advanced bowing. After greeting his hostess, he turned to Valerie with a manner that was new in their intercourse. He dropped from the courtier to the man pure and simple.

Kissing the girl's hand he said earnestly:

'I feared you were not to arrive until to-morrow.'

Madame de Sagan, who had raised her eyebrows and made a little grimace at Valerie behind the Minister's back, here interposed:

'I persuaded her to travel here with me. I hope, Baron, you feel how greatly I have befriended you!'

'You will find me grateful, Madame. In the meantime, I have been sent to warn you that his Highness has already arrived at the foot of the hill, and to beg you to descend to the great hall, where the Count is waiting to receive him.'

'Come, Valerie,' said the Countess, with a little catch in her breath, and an added fleck of colour in her soft cheeks.

The great hall was half-filled with servants and retainers, ranged according to the fashion, which has obtained at Sagan during the memory of man, for the ceremonious reception of the reigning Duke. Half a dozen huntsmen held in leash as many couples of huge boarhounds at one side of the hall; on the other, servants, carrying gold trays of refreshments, stood in line. Above these, again, clustered the numerous guests who had already arrived.

As the Countess, looking very young and fair and slender, walked down the centre, Sagan, who had been draining a goblet of wine, thrust the cup back upon the tray, and catching his wife's hand roughly, said, with an audible oath:

'You're late.'

She shrank back, suppressing a cry, from his angry grasp; but few had time to notice the incident, for the outer door clanged back upon its hinges to admit the Duke, who, shivering in his furs, entered upon the arm of Colendorp.

Sagan advanced to meet him, but the Duke, glancing round the hall with a shudder, cut his formal greetings short.

'Sagan wears a more gloomy and cut-throat air than ever, Cousin,' he said, irritably.

Sagan's response was covered by the entrance of the suite, the whole party being brought up by Rallywood and a couple of troopers of the Guard. Then Sagan, with a scowling face, offered the Duke the customary cup of wine, and, comparative silence being restored, the ducal answer came peevishly to all ears:

'No, my good Simon, your wine is like yourself, rather too strong and a trifle rough for my taste. Let Briot be called. I have brought my own drinking.'

So saying, he waved the attendants aside, and, approaching Isolde, he raised her as she curtsied deeply.

'There is one point, Madame, in which I can never hope to rival my cousin of Sagan. My wine may be more palatable; but I could never find a wife more beautiful or—more wise than his!' he said, with malicious gallantry.

Then bending forward he kissed the Countess with empressment on both cheeks. She trembled under the caress, though she was hardly aware of it, for her eyes were on her husband, whose daily increasing dislike of herself she could not understand, and was only newly beginning to dread. Valerie, standing immediately behind the Countess, overheard and resented the details of the scene. It was unbearable to see Isolde helplessly baited by Sagan and the Duke—each man gratifying the spleen of the moment at the expense of a woman, who was obliged to submit to their discourtesy. Of all the guests Mdlle. Selpdorf alone stood erect, forgetting, in her indignation, to join in the general obeisance. The Grand Duke, looking up, found her flushed and flashing, and superlatively handsome. His flabby cheeks twitched, and his bleared eyes brightened.

'Mademoiselle Selpdorf, since you will not salute me, I can at least claim the right as your Duke to salute you,' he said, stepping towards her.

Instantly Valerie sank into an exaggerated curtsy, thus adroitly avoiding the Duke's outstretched hand and ready lips. His feeble legs failed, he stumbled forward and pitched into the arms of Elmur, who set him upright with a gentle skilfulness that almost cheated the eyes of the spectators.

The Duke, slightly shaken, and exceedingly annoyed, turned upon the girl:

'Mademoiselle grows proud!'

'Forgive me, sire; I did not dream that you would stoop so low!' rejoined the girl, with apparent humility.

'If you will not accept the salute of your Duke, Mademoiselle, may I ask to what you aspire?' he added contemptuously.

Valerie was not of a meek spirit, and she saw a way in which she might revenge Isolde, little comprehending the far-reaching consequences of her thoughtless words.

'I aspire to be maid of honour to the Grand Duchess of Maasau!' she answered, with a glance towards the Countess.

The Duke glared around him into the circle of half-curious, half-terrified faces, for this was a piercing home-thrust, his eye dwelt for a moment on Sagan, towering tall and rugged and strong as one of his own native rocks, and he recognised that his cousin, although ten years his senior as age is counted, was infinitely younger in his unimpaired energies and rude health. Also, Duke Gustave of Maasau was superstitious, and it struck him as an ill omen that the representative of Selpdorf should have failed him at the critical moment, and thus flung him headlong into the arms of Germany!

Out of all these crowding thoughts arose not only vivid fear, but a resolution, of which none at that time believed him to be capable. He grew white about the mouth, his protruding lip twitched ominously.

'It is not always lucky for even so young and beautiful a woman as you are to count on dead men's shoes,' he said, in a low, penetrating voice.

A happy inspiration came to Madame de Sagan. She took Valerie's hand in hers, and addressed the Duke with a quivering smile that somehow vouched for her earnestness at the moment.

'You mistake Valerie, sire; she and I both desire the same honour—to attend your Highness's Consort, if it would please you to take one.'

'It might please me, Madame; but I doubt it would please your husband little,' retorted the Duke.

'I hoped your Highness knew me better!' protested Sagan sulkily.

'I do, my good Simon, I know you much better!' said the Duke laughing. 'Now, pray lead me to my apartments. The journey to Sagan fatigues in this weather—and, after all, it would look better if I died at home—in the palace at Revonde.'

At a glance from Elmur, Sagan motioned his wife forward.

'I will lead you to your apartments, sire,' she said, offering the Duke her slender hand. 'I am sure that the air of Sagan is as loyal as ourselves, and will do for you all that we should wish it to do.'

For answer the Duke shook his head feebly; and, calling Colendorp to his side, passed up the long hall through a rustling silence.



CHAPTER X.

COUNT SIMON OF SAGAN.

Although secretly dismayed at the effect produced by her rash championship of Madame de Sagan, Valerie kept up a semblance of self-possession. Her clear colouring faded to extreme pallor, but her proud eyes showed no sign of shrinking from the curious glances cast upon her. She caught a trenchant aside from Sagan to Elmur:

'These cursed women will ruin us!'

And in answer to this even Elmur's flattery was mute. But Valerie stood haughty and erect, watching the Duke's suite file up the hall, Rallywood, as before, bringing up in the rear.

As he came in line with her he turned his head, and their glances met.

That look, which she always recalled as distinctively his, was wiped from the young man's gray eyes; they fell upon her stern, alienated, almost inimical. The change struck her like a blow. But before she could fling back her silent defiance at him, he was gone, without a second glance, or seeking in any manner to soften the insolent rebuke he had dared to convey.

She resolved to go to her own rooms and make instant arrangements for a return to Revonde. Her heart was hot in her, as, looking round, she found herself standing alone. Elmur, apparently forgetful of the deep personal devotion he had so lately manifested, was conversing with a group of Maasaun nobles, his back turned conveniently towards her. Sagan had disappeared, and not one of those whom she knew so well, and who, ten minutes ago, would have felt honoured by seeking her, but now seemed too deeply engaged to notice that she stood alone.

A moment later Counsellor approached her. She had known him slightly for a long time, but she now for the first time fully met the shrewd, kindly eyes under their shaggy brows. Instantly she liked him, and to her own surprise found herself talking of the indiscretion of which she had been guilty, and of her wish to return to Revonde in consequence.

'Mademoiselle, are you a loyal Maasaun?' asked Counsellor gravely.

Valerie's soft dark eyes gazed steadily back into his.

'I am loyal,' she replied, in an earnest under-breath.

'Then stay in Sagan. If your words carried so long a tag of meaning to others, you can see that Maasau may have need of all her loyal children soon.'

'Whom can we trust?' she asked suddenly, almost in a whisper, for Elmur, seeing her in conversation with Counsellor, now approached with a ceremonious air.

Counsellor smiled as he stood squarely beside her.

'Choose!' he said, briefly.

'Choose what?' asked Elmur in his most deferential manner. 'Madamoiselle's choice in the most trivial matters is of importance.'

Valerie smiled. Not a trace of disturbance was perceptible in her manner, and Elmur, noting it, came to the final conclusion that this girl was not only extraordinarily handsome, but also exceptionally capable. Having made so grievous a mistake, and taken the punishment of it, she was still mistress of herself. It was a gallant spirit, and well worth capturing.

'Major Counsellor has asked me to choose flowers for the ball to-night. I choose roses. I think it is very nice of me, Major Counsellor, for is not the rose the emblem of England?' said the girl, with a coquettish smile at the older man.

Elmur's face clouded. This interfering old fellow had the power of making friends, which means the power of being a dangerous enemy.

'I had hoped,' he said aloud, 'to have the pleasure of begging Mademoiselle to accept my flowers.'

'You are too late, Baron; but perhaps you will escort me to the west tower, where I daresay Madame de Sagan is already waiting for me.'

Counsellor looked after the tall graceful figure of the girl as she ascended the staircase with Elmur at her side. He could see she was still laughing and talking to her companion, but her ready parry of the German's question, including a clear reply to his own, showed him that the Chancellor's daughter was much more than a mere wilful girl.

'John Rallywood,' he grunted, as he turned away, 'is after all not so great an ass as he thinks himself.'

An attendant intercepted the German before he regained the hall, after leaving Valerie with Madame de Sagan.

'My lord desires to speak with your Excellency,' he said.

Elmur frowned. He wished to allow Count Simon time to cool before meeting him, but this summons was imperative, and, besides, he knew the danger of failing to provide a safety-valve in the shape of a listener, before the Count could blow off the first ebullitions of rage over Mdlle. Selpdorf's untoward speech. If pent up within his own breast, there was no knowing in how disastrous a manner Sagan's ill-humour might explode. Defeat meant much to Elmur, his reputation was at stake. Other men had undertaken this same mission—to bring about the annexation to the Fatherland of this troublesome little state; they had failed, therefore Elmur had pledged himself to succeed.

Elmur stood with his back against a massive carved bookshelf, and looked at Sagan, who, with a cigar-butt buried in his ragged beard, was walking, with long, uncertain steps, up and down the floor. The tiger in the old man was awake.

'Act I., Scene I.,' said Elmur at last, and with a smile.

Sagan stopped short and turned a bloodshot sidelong glare upon him, his dark old fingers working convulsively.

'By heaven! It is going to be a tragedy!' he shouted, and burst into a whirlwind of hideous curses, coupled with the names of Valerie and his wife.

The German picked out a comfortable chair and seated himself, crossing his legs with a manifest intention of patience. There was a horrible energy in the old man's attitudes. His long smouldering ambition, nursed and fed of late, had now flamed into a regnant passion, and the cooler, more wary, unscrupulousness of the younger man looked with repugnance upon the blind fury of the Duke that was to be.

In no great space of time the sight of that impassive, high-shouldered figure, sitting calmly by, imposed a growing sense of restraint upon the Count.

'What do you think of our chances now that Gustave's suspicions have been set on the alert?' he asked at last, coming to a stop in front of Elmur. 'That fool of a wife of mine has blabbed to Selpdorf's daughter, and she in her turn blabs before all the world.'

Elmur sat still and dumb. His face enraged Sagan once more.

'But I am master in Sagan. The girl must be got rid of! There are a hundred dangers in our mountains and marshes. Do you not understand?'

Baron von Elmur stood up. He bore his most dignified air, and there was something in his whole aspect that made the Count pause.

'In the first place, her death under the circumstances would look strange. In the second, we have nothing to gain from it,' he said.

Sagan's red eyes twinkled cunningly.

'Hear my plan. I am not so squeamish as you thin-blooded moderns, or at least as you pretend to be!' He placed his finger on the Minister's breast, and drew back a little, the better to enjoy the approbation he expected to read in the other's face. 'We will say that the girl fell ill, and I, in my anxiety, sent Madame Sagan—my own wife, mark you—to accompany her to Revonde. If both should happen to be killed by an accident we should be well rid of them—and what could the world say?'

Elmur drew away from the insistive finger with an unmistakable movement. He bowed stiffly and moved towards the door.

'I do not know what the world might do or say but I can answer for Ludwig von Elmur. My master does not deal in murder, my lord, and so I beg your leave to withdraw.'

'What?' sneered the other, 'he does not deal in murder? Rather, you would say, he prefers to deal in murder wholesale! What of your wars and annexations? What of the Germans in West Africa? Take care, Elmur, that you are not acting over hastily. For my part I don't believe that a life or so would weigh too heavy in the balance as against a province, even in your master's judgment. I take my world as I find it, my good Baron!'

'Pardon me, my lord, you take the world as your ancestors found it! You may be all your fathers were, but however time goes at Sagan, the rest of the world has not stood still since the middle ages. And the world is on my side to-day. Besides,' he added more suavely, 'we should gain nothing. We should alienate Selpdorf, who is useful, and who knows too much. As for the Duke, after such an affair he could never be eased of his suspicions.'

'I don't ask to ease him, I mean to cure him,' retorted Sagan, meaningly.

'I am certain Madame de Sagan has been silent. The speech of Mdlle. Selpdorf was the indignant outburst of a girl who thought her friend discourteously treated.'

'Discourteously treated? Isolde rudely treated? By whom?'

'Forgive me once more, my lord; but, in the first place, by yourself.'

Sagan laughed aloud; his ill-temper vanishing before the humour of the notion that anyone could take exception to a man's rudeness towards his own wife.

'Pooh! the girl is a bigger idiot than I thought her. Let us hope she'll never meet with worse at the hands of her own husband.'

'I join in the hope, my lord, since I am to be that most fortunate man!' It was not the most felicitous moment, but Elmur was aware that in no other way could he assure Valerie's safety against the treachery of his colleague.

Sagan fell back a step.

'So—the wind blows from that quarter? Take heed, Baron, Selpdorf is a slippery fish.'

'But by this arrangement we land him finally.'

'It may be so.' Sagan tugged broodingly at his beard, after a pause adding, 'Well, well, the girl is safe enough for me, if you can answer for her. Come back and sit down. We must act while Gustave is here. Once we secure the Guard, we can force him to do—as we please. First a compromise, then abdication, then—' he brought his hand down heavily upon the table and sat staring before him at a vision of a dream fulfilled—a vision of Duke Simon of Maasau.

Elmur's lip curled as he watched the man, who, for the time being, was oblivious of all but the realisation of his own ambition. Duke Simon! a name, but never a living power—only a German puppet, pulled hither and thither at will by the controlling hand.

'What are your plans, my lord?' he asked aloud.

The Count started, and raised his head.

'We have three of the Guard here—Unziar, Rallywood, Colendorp. You know that as soon as we have made sure of their officers the men will follow of themselves. Now Unziar is no saint.'

'But he fights the better because he is a sinner.'

'He is not to be tempted, then. But he is in love with Mdlle. Selpdorf—with your future wife, and she must blind him. A man in love is easily blinded.'

'And Rallywood?' asked Elmur.

'We don't—want Rallywood,' rejoined Sagan, with an odd glance at Elmur. 'I can manage him, if you will leave him to me.'

Elmur smiled.

'I conclude Rallywood is capable of taking care of himself.'

The Count grinned.

'Exactly what I believed you would think. There remains only Colendorp. But Colendorp is the man we must have—all will depend on Colendorp.'

'Do you suppose he will bend?'

'If not he must break! But, no; I know him well! I have chosen him because he touches no woman! Men who don't love women, love money, and men who do——'

'Love both,' said Elmur quietly.

'To-morrow night Colendorp shall be here with me. You also will be present. Colendorp is a poor man—as men go in the Guard—and we must approach him softly and by degrees,' said Sagan.

Elmur concealed a smile. A course of softness and caution seemed impossible in connection with the headstrong old man who counselled it.

Sagan, left alone, stood engrossed in thought. The wild beast instinct in him gave him intuition of danger. Elmur was playing Germany's game, but since his aim was the Count's own, it was impossible at this stage to disentangle the precise cause of suspicion.



CHAPTER XI.

A COUNSEL OF EXPEDIENCY.

The foundation of the family and Castle of Sagan was said to belong to the period of the Frankish incursions. Some one had once remarked that Count Simon himself was the most perfect relic of the barbaric period to be found in Europe, which, coming round in due time to Count Simon, the joker paid with his life for his poor attempt at wit.

However true this tradition of Sagan might be, the Castle itself was mediaeval, and, though it had been added to and restored, dark and tortuous passages still existed in the older portion of its huge bulk, and could by no means be improved away. Treacherous steps waylaid and betrayed the unwary foot; undreamed-of doors gave upon their dimmest corners, and not all the efforts of the nervous chatelaine ever accomplished the adequate lighting of their recesses.

The spirit of fear seemed to be abroad in the Castle that night, and the guests moved with a causeless but irresistible hurry when coming or going from the upper apartments or through the winding corridors.

Valerie was conscious of it, as, wrapped in a long cloak, she opened her door and started back on finding a tall high-shouldered figure standing outside.

'Take my arm, Mademoiselle, I beg of you,' von Elmur bent his head, speaking urgently: 'I am aware that his August Impertinence well deserved your rebuke! But many heard it, and by some a sinister construction has been put upon it. For your father's sake, will you condescend to listen to me?'

Valerie withdrew her hand from his arm with a swift movement, but he caught and replaced it almost roughly.

'Forgive me, Mademoiselle, you must listen to me! I am not urging my suit upon you—I will not urge it until you consult your father; but, in the meantime, the exigencies of the case, difficulties which have arisen as the result of your own words, make it essential for you to follow my advice. You are aware, you must be aware, of my feelings towards you, and may I remind you that your father's wishes coincide with mine? Will you allow me to announce our betrothal to the Count? I will never presume upon this favour in the future—you may rely upon me. Valerie, you see I am using no lover's persuasiveness, I do not tell you that I adore you—though you are well aware of that! I only declare that your falling in with my request may mean the difference between life and death to some of us!'

'Is my father in danger through my fault?'

His hand held hers close, and she could see that he was moved out of the common by some emotion, the cool stillness of his manner was replaced by a passion of which she had not believed him capable. Her beauty and the thought of losing her had a good deal to do with this disturbance, but the chief cause was the fear, that, after all, his mission might fail, and fail badly.

'I cannot explain; but I implore you to act on my advice.'

Valerie hesitated. Elmur was very much in earnest, yet it might be an attempt to trick her into a position from which she would find it almost impossible to withdraw.

'Do you wish to make this public?' she asked.

'No, no. That—pardon me once more—would be equally fatal after the impression you unluckily conveyed to the Duke. No; I only ask you to allow Count Sagan to believe that you have consented to become my wife. I beg you to do this—for M. Selpdorf's sake, and, indeed, Mademoiselle, for your own!'

As they entered the circle of brilliant light falling from the great lamp above Madame de Sagan's door Baron von Elmur resumed something of his usual manner.

'Then I may conduct you no further?' he said, turning in front of her to screen her agitated face from two persons who were coming along the gallery.

'Thank you for your protection, Baron,' the girl replied in an audible tone, 'the Castle is haunted on nights like these, when the tsa cries around it.'

The door swung open noiselessly beside them, and Count Sagan stood on the threshold. By some instinct, without looking at him, she seemed to see his angry, questioning gaze.

'Au revoir,' she added to Elmur, with a coquettish ring in her voice.

'Ah, Mademoiselle, I live for that only—to see you again,' began Elmur.

Sagan cut him short.

'Tut, tut, Baron, too many eyes are looking on to permit of such endearments as these! Ardour in a betrothed lover is natural, yet——'

Valerie looked up and smiled miserably.

'Au revoir,' she repeated faintly.

With that the door closed behind her as Sagan led her away to his wife, and Elmur, affecting not to see the two men who were passing, strolled on singing a love-song under his breath. Unziar paused, then drew Rallywood with him into the centre of the wide lighted passage, where they could speak with more freedom. 'That settles more questions than one!' he said mockingly. 'For example, it settles a question which most concerns you and me, Rallywood.'

'Concerns me?' Rallywood flung back the words.

'Would you deny it? You are as deep in that as I,' nodding towards the door behind them.

Rallywood's answer came slowly.

'I do not deny it. Why should I wish to? Though regard for her has led me to attempt to hide my—folly. I see I have not been altogether as successful as I hoped. But, had I anything to offer her beside my sword, I'm hanged if I would let that infernal German have her!'

'In these affairs, my friend, the ladies equally make choice,' Unziar replied with a sneer. 'Besides, it is only a part of the—plot,' the last word was scarcely audible.

Rallywood turned on him a long, keen look.

'And you think that she, Mademoiselle, is in it?' he asked at last.

'I wish to God I could say not! But in the teeth of this conspiracy, for the sake of Maasau, we of the Guard cannot lie to each other.'

Rallywood, being on duty during the evening, stood, according to usage, at some little distance behind the Duke's chair. From among the coming and going, from chance words and prepared speeches he gathered a thread of suspicion which had its use in the perplexing future that was rapidly advancing upon them.

Valerie, with a flush upon her face, was looking unusually brilliant as she talked for a while with Unziar, who, judging from the sourness of his smile, may have been offering her his congratulations.

Counsellor came up to Rallywood, and as they stood well away from the crowd, spoke openly.

'You have heard the news I see, John, and you are not nearly such a fool as you think yourself. She is a girl in ten thousand, and may, not improbably, make the exceptional woman I once before spoke to you about. I knew this connection was under consideration by Elmur, but the engagement did not exist a few hours ago, and the present moment is precisely the most inopportune which could be chosen for its announcement, hence it follows that someone has forced Elmur's hand, or that he is forcing the hand of someone, it may be Mdlle. Selpdorf's.'

'Will it be announced—publicly? The Duke, for example.'

'It is known already to half-a-dozen; what can they do? I had it from Blivinski, the little Russian attache, as a secret. Russia is, like nature herself, the vast reservoir of all secrets; and not one is allowed to escape, except for a purpose. Yet I wonder how it will end. Look at her! How brilliant she is. But rouge on the cheek of a woman who habitually uses none means, in all cases—trouble,' said Counsellor, as he moved off.



CHAPTER XII.

ANTHONY UNZIAR.

No one could have gathered, from the quiet aspect of Rallywood's tall, soldierly figure, that a whirl of emotion was passing through his brain. Yet above all rose one dominant sensation—a vast relief. Counsellor shared his own opinion with regard to Valerie. Her daring words to the Duke had no serious meaning; they were only the natural echo of a girl's preference for a young and beautiful woman to preside over the Court, rather than the bloated rake who now lolled uneasily in the chair before him. He recalled the forlorn little smile with which she had accepted von Elmur's lover-like protestations at Madame de Sagan's doorway. Its forlornness had been lost upon Unziar, who had drawn but one merciless conclusion from the little scene. Close on the heels of these reflections a vivid recollection rose before Rallywood's mind of the first night he had met her. The lights and music of the grand salon of Sagan died away, and he was standing again on the ridge below the Hotel du Chancelier, looking out over the glimmering lamps of Revonde, dominated, as always, by the regnant red eye of the Guards' Dome, and he felt once more that strange new warmth and thrill in his veins which, at the time, he had believed to be born of an opening career beset with danger and difficulty. To-night, however, he judged more clearly; he knew that his dull life had been rekindled, and his ambitions had taken fresh fire from the dark starlit eyes Valerie Selpdorf had raised to his in the Counsellor's ante-room two months ago.