Lying back in the seat, he pensively studied the face of the sleeping girl whose dark-brown head was pillowed against the corner cushions of the coach. Her hat had been removed for the sake of comfort. The dark lashes fell like a soft curtain over her eyes, obscuring the merry gray that had overcome his apprehensions. Her breathing was deep and regular and peaceful. One little gloved hand rested carelessly in her lap, the other upon her breast near the delicate throat. The heart of Baldos was troubled. The picture he looked upon was entrancing, uplifting; he rose from the lowly state in which she had found him to the position of admirer in secret to a princess, real or assumed. He found himself again wondering if she were really Yetive, and with that fear in his heart he was envying Grenfall Lorry, the lord and master of this exquisite creature, envying with all the helplessness of one whose hope is blasted at birth.

The note which had been surreptitiously passed to him in Ganlook lay crumpled and forgotten inside his coat pocket, where he had dropped it the moment it had come into his possession, supposing that the message contained information which had been forgotten by Franz, and was by no means of a nature to demand immediate attention. Had he read it at once his suspicions would have been confirmed, and it is barely possible that he would have refused to enter the city.

Late in the afternoon the walls of Edelweiss were sighted. For the first time he looked upon the distant housetops of the principal city of Graustark. Up in the clouds, on the summit of the mountain peak overlooking the city, stood the famed monastery of Saint Valentine. Stretching up the gradual incline were the homes of citizens, accessible only by footpaths and donkey roads. Beverly was awake and impatient to reach the journey's end. He had proved a most disappointing companion, polite, but with a baffling indifference that irritated her considerably. There was a set expression of defiance in his strong, clean-cut face, the look of a soldier advancing to meet a powerful foe.

"I do hope he'll not always act this way," she was complaining in her thoughts. "He was so charmingly impudent out in the hills, so deliciously human. Now he is like a clam. Yetive will think I am such a fool if he doesn't live up to the reputation I've given him!"

"Here are the gates," he said, half to himself. "What is there in store for me beyond those walls?"

"Oh, I wish you wouldn't be so dismal," she cried in despair. "It seems just like a funeral."

"A thousand apologies, your highness," he murmured, with a sudden lightness of speech and manner. "Henceforth I shall be a most amiable jester, to please you."

Beverly and the faithful Aunt Fanny were driven to the castle, where the former bade farewell to her new knight until the following morning, when he was to appear before her for personal instructions. Colonel Quinnox escorted him to the barracks of the guards where he was to share a room with young Haddan, a corporal in the service.

"The wild, untamed gentleman from the hills came without a word, I see," said Lorry, who had watched the approach. He and Yetive stood in the window overlooking the grounds from the princess's boudoir, Beverly had just entered and thrown herself upon a divan.

"Yes, he's here," she said shortly.

"How long do you, with all your cleverness, expect to hoodwink him into the belief that you are the princess?" asked Yetive, amused but anxious.

"He's a great fool for being hoodwinked at all," said Beverly, very much at odds with her protege. "In an hour from now he will know the truth and will be howling like a madman for his freedom."

"Not so soon as that, Beverly," said Lorry consolingly. "The guards and officers have their instructions to keep him in the dark as long as possible."

"Well, I'm tired and mad and hungry and everything else that isn't compatible. Let's talk about the war," said Beverly, the sunshine in her face momentarily eclipsed by the dark cloud of disappointment.

Baldos was notified that duty would be assigned to him in the morning. He went through the formalities which bound him to the service for six months, listening indifferently to the words that foretold the fate of a traitor. It was not until his hew uniform and equipment came into his possession that he remembered the note resting in his pocket. He drew it out and began to read it with the slight interest of one who has anticipated the effect. But not for long was he to remain apathetic. The first few lines brought a look of understanding to his eyes; then he laughed the easy laugh of one who has cast care and confidence to the winds. This is what he read:

"She is not the princess. We have been duped. Last night I learned the truth. She is Miss Calhoun, an American, going to be a guest at the castle. Refuse to go with her into Edelweiss. It may be a trap and may mean death. Question her boldly before committing yourself."

There came the natural impulse to make a dash for the outside world, fighting his way through if necessary. Looking back over the ground, he wondered how he could have been deceived at all by the unconventional American. In the clear light of retrospection he now saw how impossible it was for her to have been the princess. Every act, every word, every look should have told him the truth. Every flaw in her masquerading now presented itself to him and he was compelled to laugh at his own simplicity. Caution, after all, was the largest component part of his makeup; the craftiness of the hunted was deeply rooted in his being. He saw a very serious side to the adventure. Stretching himself upon the cot in the corner of the room he gave himself over to plotting, planning, thinking.

In the midst of his thoughts a sudden light burst in upon him. His eyes gleamed with a new fire, his heart leaped with new animation, his blood ran warm again. Leaping to his feet he ran to the window to re-read the note from old Franz. Then he settled back and laughed with a fervor that cleared the brain of a thousand vague misgivings.

"She is Miss Calhoun, an American going to be a guest at the castle,"—not the princess, but Miss Calhoun. Once more the memory of the clear gray eyes leaped into life; again he saw her asleep in the coach on the road from Ganlook; again he recalled the fervent throbs his guilty heart had felt as he looked upon this fair creature, at one time the supposed treasure of another man. Now she was Miss Calhoun, and her gray eyes, her entrancing smile, her wondrous vivacity were not for one man alone. It was marvelous what a change this sudden realization wrought in the view ahead of him. The whole situation seemed to be transformed into something more desirable than ever before. His face cleared, his spirits leaped higher and higher with the buoyancy of fresh relief, his confidence in himself crept back into existence. And all because the fair deceiver, the slim girl with the brave gray eyes who had drawn him into a net, was not a princess!

Something told him that she had not drawn him into his present position with any desire to injure or with the slightest sense of malice. To her it had been a merry jest, a pleasant comedy. Underneath all he saw the goodness of her motive in taking him from the old life, and putting him into his present position of trust. He had helped her, and she was ready to help him to the limit of her power. His position in Edelweiss was clearly enough defined. The more he thought of it, the more justifiable it seemed as viewed from her point of observation. How long she hoped to keep him in the dark he could not tell. The outcome would be entertaining; her efforts to deceive. If she kept them up, would be amusing. Altogether, he was ready, with the leisure and joy of youth, to await developments and to enjoy the comedy from a point of view which she could not at once suspect.

His subtle efforts to draw Haddan into a discussion of the princess and her household resulted unsatisfactorily. The young guard was annoyingly unresponsive. He had his secret instructions and could not be inveigled into betraying himself. Baldos went to sleep that night with his mind confused by doubts. His talk with Haddan had left him quite undecided as to the value of old Franz's warning. Either Franz was mistaken, or Haddan was a most skilful dissembler. It struck him as utterly beyond the pale of reason that the entire castle guard should have been enlisted in the scheme to deceive him. When sleep came, he was contenting himself with the thought that morning doubtless would give him clearer insight to the situation.

Both he and Beverly Calhoun were ignorant of the true conditions that attached themselves to the new recruit. Baron Dangloss alone knew that Haddan was a trusted agent of the secret service, with instructions to shadow the newcomer day and night. That there was a mystery surrounding the character of Baldos, the goat-hunter, Dangloss did not question for an instant: and in spite of the instructions received at the outset, he was using all his skill to unravel it.

Baldos was not summoned to the castle until noon. His serene indifference to the outcome of the visit was calculated to deceive the friendly but watchful Haddan. Dressed carefully in the close-fitting uniform of the royal guard, taller than most of his fellows, handsomer by far than any, he was the most noticeable figure in and about the barracks. Haddan coached him in the way he was to approach the princess, Baldos listening with exaggerated intentness and with deep regard for detail.

Beverly was in the small audience-room off the main reception hall when he was ushered into her presence. The servants and ladies-in-waiting disappeared at a signal from her. She arose to greet him and he knelt to kiss her hand. For a moment her tongue was bound. The keen eyes of the new guard had looked into hers with a directness that seemed to penetrate her brain. That this scene was to be one of the most interesting in the little comedy was proved by the fact that two eager young women were hidden behind a heavy curtain in a corner of the room. The Princess Yetive and the Countess Dagmar were there to enjoy Beverly's first hour of authority, and she was aware of their presence.

"Have they told you that you are to act as my especial guard and escort?" she asked, with a queer flutter in her voice. Somehow this tall fellow with the broad shoulders was not the same as the ragged goat-hunter she had known at first.

"No, your highness," said he, easily. "I have come for instructions. It pleases me to know that I am to have a place of honor and trust such as this."

"General Marlanx has told me that a vacancy exists, and I have selected you to fill it. The compensation will be attended to by the proper persons, and your duties will be explained to you by one of the officers. This afternoon, I believe, you are to accompany me on my visit to the fortress, which I am to inspect."

"Very well, your highness," he respectfully said. He was thinking of Miss Calhoun, an American girl, although he called her "your highness." "May I be permitted to ask for instructions that can come only from your highness?"

"Certainly," she replied. His manner was more deferential than she had ever known it to be, but he threw a bomb into her fine composure with his next remark. He addressed her in the Graustark language:

"Is it your desire that I shall continue to address you in English?"

Beverly's face turned a bit red and her eyes wavered. By a wonderful effort she retained her self-control, stammering ever so faintly when she said in English:

"I wish you would speak English," unwittingly giving answer to his question. "I shall insist upon that. Your English is too good to be spoiled."

Then he made a bold test, his first having failed. He spoke once more in the native tongue, this time softly and earnestly.

"As you wish, your highness, but I think it is a most ridiculous practice," he said, and his heart lost none of its courage. Beverly looked at him almost pathetically. She knew that behind the curtain two young women were enjoying her discomfiture. Something told her that they were stifling their mirth with dainty lace-bordered handkerchiefs.

"That will do, sir," she managed to say firmly. "It's very nice of you, but after this pay your homage in English," she went on, taking a long chance on his remark. It must have been complimentary, she reasoned. As for Baldos, the faintest sign of a smile touched his lips and his eyes were twinkling as he bent his head quickly. Franz was right; she did not know a word of the Graustark language.

"I have entered the service for six months, your highness," he said in English. "You have honored me, and I give my heart as well as my arm to your cause."

Beverly, breathing easier, was properly impressed by this promise of fealty. She was looking with pride upon the figure of her stalwart protege.

"I hope you have destroyed that horrid black patch," she said.

"It has gone to keep company with other devoted but deserted friends," he said, a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

"The uniform is vastly becoming," she went on, realizing helplessly that she was providing intense amusement for the unseen auditors.

"It shames the rags in which you found me."

"I shall never forget them, Baldos," she said, with a strange earnestness in her voice.

"May I presume to inquire after the health of your good Aunt Fanny and—although I did not see him—your Uncle Sam? "he asked, with a face as straight and sincere as that of a judge. Beverly swallowed suddenly and checked a laugh with some difficulty.

"Aunt Fanny is never ill. Some day I shall tell you more of Uncle Sam. It will interest you."

"Another question, if it please your highness. Do you expect to return to America soon?"

This was the unexpected, but she met it with admirable composure.

"It depends upon the time when Prince Dantan resumes the throne in Dawsbergen," she said.

"And that day may never come," said he, such mocking regret in his voice that she looked upon him with newer interest.

"Why, I really believe you want to go to America," she cried.

The eyes of Baldos had been furtively drawn to the curtain more than once during the last few minutes. An occasional movement of the long oriental hangings attracted his attention. It dawned upon him that the little play was being overheard, whether by spies or conspirators he knew not. Resentment sprang up in his breast and gave birth to a daring that was as spectacular as it was confounding. With long, noiseless strides, he reached the door before Beverly could interpose. She half started from her chair, her eyes wide with dismay, her lips parted, but his hand was already clutching the curtain. He drew it aside relentlessly.

Two startled women stood exposed to view, smiles dying on their amazed faces. Their backs were against the closed door and two hands clutching handkerchiefs dropped from a most significant altitude. One of them flashed an imperious glance at the bold discoverer, and he knew he was looking upon the real princess of Graustark. He did not lose his composure. Without a tremor he turned to the American girl.

"Your highness," he said clearly, coolly, "I fear we have spies and eavesdroppers here. Is your court made up of—I should say, they are doubtless a pair of curious ladies-in-waiting. Shall I begin my service, your highness, by escorting them to yonder door?"



CHAPTER XIII

THE THREE PRINCES

Beverly gasped. The countess stared blankly at the new guard. Yetive flushed deeply, bit her lip in hopeless chagrin, and dropped her eyes. A pretty turn, indeed, the play had taken! Not a word was uttered for a full half-minute; nor did the guilty witnesses venture forth from their retreat. Baldos stood tall and impassive, holding the curtain aside. At last the shadow of a smile crept into the face of the princess, but her tones were full of deep humility when she spoke.

"We crave permission to retire, your highness," she said, and there was virtuous appeal in her eyes. "I pray forgiveness for this indiscretion and implore you to be lenient with two miserable creatures who love you so well that they forget their dignity."

"I am amazed and shocked," was all that Beverly could say. "You may go, but return to me within an hour. I will then hear what you have to say."

Slowly, even humbly, the ruler of Graustark and her cousin passed beneath the upraised arm of the new guard. He opened a door on the opposite side of the room, and they went out, to all appearance thoroughly crestfallen. The steady features of the guard did not relax for the fraction of a second, but his heart was thumping disgracefully.

"Come here, Baldos," commanded Beverly, a bit pale, but recovering her wits with admirable promptness. "This is a matter which I shall dispose of privately. It is to go no further, you are to understand."

"Yes, your highness."

"You may go now. Colonel Quinnox will explain everything," she said hurriedly. She was eager to be rid of him. As he turned away she observed a faint but peculiar smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Come here, sir!" she exclaimed hotly. He paused, his face as sombre as an owl's. "What do you mean by laughing like that?" she demanded. He caught the fierce note in her voice, but gave it the proper interpretation.

"Laughing, your highness?" he said in deep surprise. "You must be mistaken. I am sure that I could not have laughed in the presence of a princess."

"It must have been a—a shadow, then," she retracted, somewhat startled by his rejoinder. "Very well, then; you are dismissed."

As he was about to open the door through which he had entered the room, it swung wide and Count Marlanx strode in. Baldos paused irresolutely, and then proceeded on his way without paying the slightest attention to the commander of the army. Marlanx came to an amazed stop and his face flamed with resentment.

"Halt, sir!" he exclaimed harshly. "Don't you know enough to salute me, sir?"

Baldos turned instantly, his figure straightening like a flash. His eyes met those of the Iron Count and did not waver, although his face went white with passion.

"And who are you, sir?" he asked in cold, steely tones. The count almost reeled.

"Your superior officer—that should be enough for you!" he half hissed with deadly levelness.

"Oh, then I see no reason why I should not salute you, sir," said Baldos, with one of his rare smiles. He saluted his superior officer a shade too elaborately and turned away. Marlanx's eyes glistened.

"Stop! Have I said you could go, sir? I have a bit of advice to—"

"My command to go comes from your superior, sir," said Baldos, with irritating blandness.

"Be patient, general," cried Beverly in deep distress. "He does not know any better. I will stand sponsor for him." And Baldos went away with a light step, his blood singing, his devil-may-care heart satisfied. The look in her eyes was very sustaining. As he left the castle he said aloud to himself with an easy disregard of the consequences:

"Well, it seems that I am to be associated with the devil as well as with angels. Heavens! June is a glorious month."

"Now, you promised you'd be nice to him, General Marlanx," cried Beverly the instant Baldos was out of the room. "He's new at this sort of thing, you know, and besides, you didn't address him very politely for an utter stranger."

"The insolent dog," snarled Marlanx, his self-control returning slowly. "He shall be taught well and thoroughly, never fear, Miss Calhoun. There is a way to train such recruits as he, and they never forget what they have learned."

"Oh, please don't be harsh with him," she pleaded. The smile of the Iron Count was not at all reassuring. "I know he will be sorry for what he has done, and you—"

"I am quite sure he will be sorry," said he, with a most agreeable bow in submission to her appeal.

"Do you want to see Mr. Lorry?" she asked quickly. "I will send for him, general." She was at the door, impatient to be with the banished culprits.

"My business with Mr. Lorry can wait," he began, with a smile meant to be inviting, but which did not impress her at all pleasantly.

"Well, anyway, I'll tell him you're here," she said, her hand on the door-knob. "Will you wait here? Good-bye!" And then she was racing off through the long halls and up broad stair-cases toward the boudoir of the princess. There is no telling how long the ruffled count remained in the ante-room, for the excited Beverly forgot to tell Lorry that he was there.

There were half a dozen people in the room when Beverly entered eagerly. She was panting with excitement. Of all the rooms in the grim old castle, the boudoir of the princess was the most famously attractive. It was really her home, the exquisite abiding place of an exquisite creature. To lounge on her divans, to loll in the chairs, to glide through her priceless rugs was the acme of indolent pleasure. Few were they who enjoyed the privileges of "Little Heaven," as Harry Anguish had christened it on one memorable night, long before the princess was Mrs. Grenfall Lorry.

"Now, how do you feel?" cried the flushed American girl, pausing in the door to point an impressive finger at the princess, who was lying back in a huge chair, the picture of distress and annoyance.

"I shall never be able to look that man in the face again," came dolefully from Yetive's humbled lips. Dagmar was all smiles and in the fittest of humors. She was the kind of a culprit who loves the punishment because of the crime.

"Wasn't it ridiculous, and wasn't it just too lovely?" she cried.

"It was extremely theatrical," agreed Beverly, seating herself on the arm of Yetive's chair and throwing a warm arm around her neck. "Have you all heard about it?" she demanded, naively, turning to the others, who unquestionably had had a jumbled account of the performance.

"You got just what you deserved," said Lorry, who was immensely amused.

"I wonder what your august vagabond thinks of his princess and her ladies-in-hiding?" mused Harry Anguish. The Count and Countess Halfont were smiling in spite of the assault upon the dignity of the court.

"I'd give anything to know what he really thinks," said the real princess. "Oh, Beverly, wasn't it awful? And how he marched us out of that room!"

"I thought it was great," said Beverly, her eyes glowing. "Wasn't it splendid? And isn't he good looking?"

"He is good looking, I imagine, but I am no judge, dear. It was utterly impossible for me to look at his face," lamented the princess.

"What are you going to do with us?" asked Dagmar penitently.

"You are to spend the remainder of your life in a dungeon with Baldos as guard," decided Miss Calhoun.

"Beverly, dear, that man is no ordinary person," said the princess, quite positively.

"Of course he isn't. He's a tall, dark mystery."

"I observed him as he crossed the terrace this morning," said Lorry. "He's a striking sort of chap, and I'll bet my head he's not what he claims to be."

"He claims to be a fugitive, you must remember," said Beverly, in his defense.

"I mean that he is no common malefactor or whatever it may be. Who and what do you suppose he is? I confess that I'm interested in the fellow and he looks as though one might like him without half trying. Why haven't you dug up his past history, Beverly? You are so keen about him."

"He positively refuses to let me dig," explained Beverly. "I tried, you know, but he—he—well, he squelched me."

"Well, after all is said and done, he caught us peeping to-day, and I am filled with shame," said the princess. "It doesn't matter who he is, he must certainly have a most unflattering opinion as to what we are."

"And he is sure to know us sooner or later," said the young countess, momentarily serious.

"Oh, if it ever comes to that I shall be in a splendid position to explain it all to him," said Beverly. "Don't you see, I'll have to do a lot of explaining myself?"

"Baron Dangloss!" announced the guard of the upper hall, throwing open the door for the doughty little chief of police.

"Your highness sent for me?" asked he, advancing after the formal salutation. The princess exhibited genuine amazement.

"I did, Baron Dangloss, but you must have come with the wings of an eagle. It is really not more than three minutes since I gave the order to Colonel Quinnox." The baron smiled mysteriously, but volunteered no solution. The truth is, he was entering the castle doors as the messenger left them, but he was much too fond of effect to spoil a good situation by explanations. It was a long two miles to his office in the Tower. "Something has just happened that impels me to ask a few questions concerning Baldos, the new guard."

"May I first ask what has happened?" Dangloss was at a loss for the meaning of the general smile that went around.

"It is quite personal and of no consequence. What do you know of him? My curiosity is aroused. Now, be quiet, Beverly; you are as eager to know as the rest of us."

"Well, your highness, I may as well confess that the man is a puzzle to me. He comes here a vagabond, but he certainly does not act like one. He admits that he is being hunted, but takes no one into his confidence. For that, he cannot be blamed."

"Have you any reason to suspect who he is?" asked Lorry.

"My instructions were to refrain from questioning him," complained Dangloss, with a pathetic look at the original plotters. "Still, I have made investigations along other lines."

"And who is he?" cried Beverly, eagerly.

"I don't know," was the disappointing answer. "We are confronted by a queer set of circumstances. Doubtless you all know that young Prince Dantan is flying from the wrath of his half-brother, our lamented friend Gabriel. He is supposed to be in our hills with a half-starved body of followers. It seems impossible that he could have reached our northern boundaries without our outposts catching a glimpse of him at some time. The trouble is that his face is unknown to most of us, I among the others. I have been going on the presumption that Baldos is in reality Prince Dantan. But last night the belief received a severe shock."

"Yes?" came from several eager lips.

"My men who are watching the Dawsbergen frontier came in last night and reported that Dantan had been seen by mountaineers no later than Sunday, three days ago. These mountaineers were in sympathy with him, and refused to tell whither he went. We only know that he was in the southern part of Graustark three days ago. Our new guard speaks many languages, but he has never been heard to use that of Dawsbergen. That fact in itself is not surprising, for, of all things, he would avoid his mother tongue. Dantan is part English by birth and wholly so by cultivation. In that he evidently finds a mate in this Baldos."

"Then, he really isn't Prince Dantan?" cried Beverly, as though a cherished ideal had been shattered.

"Not if we are to believe the tales from the south. Here is another complication, however. There is, as you know, Count Halfont, and perhaps all of you, for that matter, a pretender to the throne of Axphain, the fugitive Prince Frederic. He is described as young, good looking, a scholar and the next thing to a pauper."

"Baldos a mere pretender," cried Beverly in real distress. "Never!"

"At any rate, he is not what he pretends to be," said the baron, with a wise smile.

"Then, you think he may be Prince Frederic?" asked Lorry, deeply interested.

"I am inclined to think so, although another complication has arisen. May it please your highness, I am in an amazingly tangled state of mind," admitted the baron, passing his hand over his brow.

"Do you mean that another mysterious prince has come to life?" asked Yetive, her eyes sparkling with interest in the revelations.

"Early this morning a despatch came to me from the Grand Duke Michael of Rapp-Thorberg, a duchy in western Europe, informing me that the duke's eldest son had fled from home and is known to have come to the far east, possibly to Graustark."

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Anguish. "It never rains but it hails, so here's hail to the princes three."

"We are the Mecca for runaway royalty, it seems," said Count Halfont.

"Go on with the story, Baron Dangloss," cried the princess. "It is like a book."

"A description of the young man accompanies the offer of a large reward for information that may lead to his return home for reconciliation. And—" here the baron paused dramatically.

"And what?" interjected Beverly, who could not wait.

"The description fits our friend Baldos perfectly!"

"You don't mean it?" exclaimed Lorry. "Then, he may be any one of the three you have mentioned?"

"Let me tell you what the grand duke's secretary says. I have the official notice, but left it in my desk. The runaway son of the grand duke is called Christobal. He is twenty-seven years of age, speaks English fluently, besides French and our own language. It seems that he attended an English college with Prince Dantan and some of our own young men who are still in England. Six weeks ago he disappeared from his father's home. At the same time a dozen wild and venturous retainers left the grand duchy. The party was seen in Vienna a week later, and the young duke boldly announced that he was off to the east to help his friend Dantan in the fight for his throne. Going on the theory that Baldos is this same Christobal, we have only to provide a reason for his preferring the wilds to the comforts of our cities. In the first place, he knows there is a large reward for his apprehension and he fears—our police. In the second place, he does not care to direct the attention of Prince Dantan's foes to himself. He missed Dantan in the hills and doubtless was lost for weeks. But the true reason for his flight is made plain in the story that was printed recently in Paris and Berlin newspapers. According to them, Christobal rebelled against his father's right to select a wife for him. The grand duke had chosen a noble and wealthy bride, and the son had selected a beautiful girl from the lower walks of life. Father and son quarreled and neither would give an inch. Christobal would not marry his father's choice, and the grand duke would not sanction his union with the fair plebeian."

Here Beverly exclaimed proudly, her face glowing: "He doesn't look like the sort of man who could be bullied into marrying anybody if he didn't want to."

"And he strikes me as the sort who would marry any one he set his heart upon having," added the princess, with a taunting glance at Miss Calhoun.

"Umph!" sniffed Beverly defiantly. The baron went on with his narrative, exhibiting signs of excitement.

"To lend color to the matter, Christobal's sweetheart, the daughter of a game-warden, was murdered the night before her lover fled. I know nothing of the circumstances attending the crime, but it is my understanding that Christobal is not suspected. It is possible that he is ignorant even now of the girl's fate."

"Well, by the gods, we have a goodly lot of heroes about us," exclaimed Lorry.

"But, after all," ventured the Countess Halfont, "Baldos may be none of these men."

"Good heavens, Aunt Yvonne, don't suggest anything so distressing," said Yetive. "He must be one of them."

"I suggest a speedy way of determining the matter," said Anguish. "Let us send for Baldos and ask him point blank who he is. I think it is up to him to clear away the mystery."

"No!" cried Beverly, starting to her feet.

"It seems to be the only way," said Lorry.

"But I promised him that no questions should be asked," said Beverly, almost tearfully but quite resolutely. "Didn't I, yet—your highness?"

"Alas, yes!" said the princess, with a pathetic little smile of resignation, but with loyalty in the clasp of her hand.



CHAPTER XIV

A VISIT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES

That same afternoon Baldos, blissfully ignorant of the stir he had created in certain circles, rode out for the first time as a member of the Castle Guard. He and Haddan were detailed by Colonel Quinnox to act as private escort to Miss Calhoun until otherwise ordered. If Haddan thought himself wiser than Baldos in knowing that their charge was not the princess, he was very much mistaken; if he enjoyed the trick that was being played on his fellow guardsman, his enjoyment was as nothing as compared to the pleasure Baldos was deriving from the situation. The royal victoria was driven to the fortress, conveying the supposed princess and the Countess Dagmar to the home of Count Marlanx. The two guards rode bravely behind the equipage, resplendent in brilliant new uniforms. Baldos was mildly surprised and puzzled by the homage paid the young American girl. It struck him as preposterous that the entire population of Edelweiss could be in the game to deceive him.

"Who is the princess's companion?" he inquired of Haddan, as they left the castle grounds.

"The Countess Dagmar, cousin to her highness. She is the wife of Mr. Anguish."

"I have seen her before," said Baldos, a strange smile on his face.

The Countess Dagmar found it difficult at first to meet the eye of the new guard, but he was so punctiliously oblivious that her courage was restored. She even went so far as to whisper in Beverly's ear that he did not remember her face, and probably would not recognize Yetive as one of the eavesdroppers. The princess had flatly refused to accompany them on the visit to the fortress because of Baldos. Struck by a sudden impulse, Beverly called Baldos to the side of the vehicle.

"Baldos, you behaved very nicely yesterday in exposing the duplicity of those young women," she said.

"I am happy to have pleased your highness," he said steadily.

"It may interest you to know that they ceased to be ladies-in-waiting after that exposure."

"Yes, your highness, it certainly is interesting," he said, as he fell back into position beside Haddan. During the remainder of the ride he caught himself time after time gazing reflectively at the back of her proud little head, possessed of an almost uncontrollable desire to touch the soft brown hair.

"You can't fool that excellent young man much longer, my dear," said the countess, recalling the look in his dark eyes. The same thought had been afflicting Beverly with its probabilities for twenty-four hours and more.

Count Marlanx welcomed his visitors with a graciousness that awoke wonder in the minds of his staff. His marked preference for the American girl did not escape attention. Some of the bolder young officers indulged in surreptitious grimaces, and all looked with more or less compassion upon the happy-faced beauty from over the sea. Marlanx surveyed Baldos steadily and coldly, deep disapproval in his sinister eyes. He had not forgotten the encounter of the day before.

"I see the favorite is on guard," he said blandly. "Has he told you of the lesson in manners he enjoyed last night?" He was leading his guests toward the quarters, Baldos and Haddan following. The new guard could not help hearing the sarcastic remark.

"You didn't have him beaten?" cried Beverly, stopping short.

"No, but I imagine it would have been preferable. I talked with him for half an hour," said the general, laughing significantly.

When the party stopped at the drinking-fountain in the center of the fort, Baldos halted near by. His face was as impassive as marble, his eyes set straight before him, his figure erect and soldierly. An occasional sarcastic remark by the Iron Count, meant for his ears, made no impression upon the deadly composure of the new guard who had had his lesson. Miss Calhoun was conscious of a vague feeling that she had served Baldos an ill-turn when she put him into this position.

The count provided a light luncheon in his quarters after the ladies had gone over the fortress. Beverly Calhoun, with all of a woman's indifference to things material, could not but see how poorly equipped the fort was as compared to the ones she had seen in the United States. She and the countess visited the armory, the arsenal, and the repair shops before luncheon, reserving the pleasures of the clubhouse, the officers' quarters, and the parade-ground until afterwards. Count Marlanx's home was in the southeast corner of the enclosure, near the gates. Several of the officers lunched with him and the young ladies. Marlanx was assiduous in his attention to Beverly Calhoun—so much so, in fact, that the countess teased her afterwards about her conquest of the old and well-worn heart. Beverly thought him extremely silly and sentimental, much preferring him in the character of the harsh, implacable martinet.

At regular intervals she saw the straight, martial form of Baldos pass the window near which she sat. He was patrolling the narrow piazza which fronted the house. Toward the close of the rather trying luncheon she was almost unable to control the impulse to rush out and compel him to relax that imposing, machine-like stride. She hungered for a few minutes of the old-time freedom with him.

The Iron Count was showing her some rare antique bronzes he had collected in the south. The luncheon was over and the countess had strolled off toward the bastions with the young officers, leaving Beverly alone with the host. Servants came in to clear the tables, but the count harshly ordered them to wait until the guests had departed.

"It is the dearest thing I have seen," said Beverly, holding a rare old candlestick at arm's length and looking at it in as many ways as the wrist could turn. Her loose sleeves ended just below the elbows. The count's eyes followed the graceful curves of her white forearm with an eagerness that was annoying.

"I prize it more dearly than any other piece in my collection," he said. "It came from Rome; it has a history which I shall try to tell you some day, and which makes it almost invaluable. A German nobleman offered me a small fortune if I would part with it."

"And you wouldn't sell it?"

"I was saving it for an occasion, your highness," he said, his steely eyes glittering. "The glad hour has come when I can part with it for a recompense far greater than the baron's gold."

"Oh, isn't it lucky you kept it?" she cried. Then she turned her eyes away quickly, for his gaze seemed greedily endeavoring to pierce through the lace insertion covering her neck and shoulders. Outside the window the steady tramp of the tall guard went on monotonously.

"The recompense of a sweet smile, a tender blush and the unguarded thanks of a pretty woman. The candlestick is yours, Miss Calhoun,—if you will repay me for my sacrifice by accepting it without reservation."

Slowly Beverly Calhoun set the candlestick down upon the table her eyes meeting his with steady disdain.

"What a rare old jester you are, Count Marlanx," she said without a smile." If I thought you were in earnest I should scream with laughter. May I suggest that we join the countess? We must hurry along, you know. She and I have promised to play tennis with the princess at three o'clock." The count's glare of disappointment lasted but a moment. The diplomacy of egotism came to his relief, and he held back the gift for another day, but not for another woman.

"It grieves me to have you hurry away. My afternoon is to be a dull one, unless you permit me to watch the tennis game," he said.

"I thought you were interested only in the game of war," she said pointedly.

"I stand in greater awe of a tennis ball than I do of a cannonball, if it is sent by such an arm as yours," and he not only laid his eyes but his hand upon her bare arm. She started as if something had stung her, and a cold shiver raced over her warm flesh. His eyes for the moment held her spellbound. He was drawing the hand to his lips when a shadow darkened the French window, and a saber rattled warningly.

Count Marlanx looked up instantly, a scowl on his face. Baldos stood at the window in an attitude of alert attention. Beverly drew her arm away spasmodically and took a step toward the window. The guard saw by her eyes that she was frightened, but, if his heart beat violently, his face was the picture of military stoniness.

"What are you doing there?" snarled the count.

"Did your highness call?" asked Baldos coolly.

"She did not call, fellow," said the count with deadly menace in his voice. "Report to me in half an hour. You still have something to learn, I see." Beverly was alarmed by the threat in his tones. She saw what was in store for Baldos, for she knew quite as well as Marlanx that the guard had deliberately intervened in her behalf.

"He cannot come in half an hour," she cried quickly. "I have something for him to do, Count Marlanx. Besides, I think I did call." Both men stared at her.

"My ears are excellent," said Marlanx stiffly.

"I fancy Baldos's must be even better, for he heard me," said Beverly, herself once more. The shadow of a smile crossed the face of the guard.

"He is impertinent, insolent, your highness. You will report to me tomorrow, sir, at nine o'clock in Colonel Quinnox's quarters. Now, go!" commanded the count.

"Wait a minute, Baldos. We are going out, too. Will you open that window for me?" Baldos gladly took it as a command and threw open the long French window. She gave him a grateful glance as she stepped through, and he could scarcely conceal the gleam of joy that shot into his own eyes. The dark scowl on the count's face made absolutely no impression upon him. He closed the window and followed ten paces behind the couple.

"Your guard is a priceless treasure," said the count grimly.

"That's what you said about the candlestick," said she sweetly.

She was disturbed by his threat to reprimand Baldos. For some time her mind had been struggling with what the count had said about "the lesson." It grew upon her that her friend had been bullied and humiliated, perhaps in the presence of spectators. Resentment fired her curiosity into action. While the general was explaining one of the new gun-carriages to the countess, Beverly walked deliberately over to where Baldos was standing. Haddan's knowledge of English was exceedingly limited, and he could understand but little of the rapid conversation. Standing squarely in front of Baldos, she questioned him in low tones.

"What did he mean when he said he had given you a lesson?" she demanded. His eyes gleamed merrily.

"He meant to alarm your highness."

"Didn't he give you a talking to?"

"He coached me in ethics."

"You are evading the question, sir. Was he mean and nasty to you? Tell me; I want to know."

"Well, he said things that a soldier must endure. A civilian or an equal might have run him through for it, your highness." A flush rose to his cheeks and his lips quivered ever so slightly. But Beverly saw and understood. Her heart was in her eyes.

"That settles it," she said rigidly. "You are not to report to him at nine tomorrow."

"But he will have me shot, your highness," said he gladly.

"He will do nothing of the kind. You are my guard," and her eyes were gleaming dangerously. Then she rejoined the group, the members of which had been watching her curiously. "Count Marlanx," she said, with entrancing dimples, "will you report to me at nine to-morrow morning?"

"I have an appointment," he said slowly, but with understanding.

"But you will break it, I am sure," she asserted confidently. "I want to give you a lesson in—in lawn tennis."

Later on, when the victoria was well away from the fort, Dagmar took her companion to task for holding in public friendly discourse with a member of the guard, whoever he might be.

"It is altogether contrary to custom, and—" but Beverly put her hand over the critical lips and smiled like a guilty child.

"Now, don't scold," she pleaded, and the countess could go no further.

The following morning Count Marlanx reported at nine o'clock with much better grace than he had suspected himself capable of exercising. What she taught him of tennis on the royal courts, in the presence of an amused audience, was as nothing to what he learned of strategy as it can be practiced by a whimsical girl. Almost before he knew it she had won exemption for Baldos, that being the stake for the first set of singles. To his credit, the count was game. He took the wager, knowing that he, in his ignorance, could not win from the blithe young expert in petticoats. Then he offered to wager the brass candlestick against her bracelet. She considered for a moment and then, in a spirit of enthusiasm, accepted the proposition. After all, she coveted the candlestick. Half an hour later an orderly was riding to the fort with instructions to return at once with Miss Calhoun's candlestick. It is on record that they were "love" sets, which goes to prove that Beverly took no chances.

Count Marlanx, puffing and perspiring, his joints dismayed and his brain confused, rode away at noon with Baron Dangloss. Beverly, quite happy in her complete victory, enjoyed a nap of profound sweetness and then was ready for her walk with the princess. They were strolling leisurely about the beautiful grounds, safe in the shade of the trees from the heat of the July sun, when Baron Dangloss approached.

"Your royal highness," he began, with his fierce smile, "may I beg a moment's audience?"

"It has to do with Baldos, I'll take oath," said Beverly, with conviction.

"Yes, with your guard. Yesterday he visited the fortress. He went in an official capacity, it is true, but he was privileged to study the secrets of our defense with alarming freedom. It would not surprise me to find that this stranger has learned everything there is to know about the fort." His listeners were silent. The smiles left their faces. "I am not saying that he would betray us—"

"No, no!" protested Beverly.

"—but he is in a position to give the most valuable information to an enemy. An officer has just informed me that Baldos missed not a detail in regard to the armament, or the location of vital spots in the construction of the fortress."

"But he wouldn't be so base as to use his knowledge to our undoing," cried Yetive seriously.

"We only know that he is not one of us. It is not beyond reason that his allegiance is to another power, Dawsbergen, for instance. Count Marlanx is not at all in sympathy with him, you are aware. He is convinced that Baldos is a man of consequence, possibly one of our bitterest enemies, and he hates him. For my own part, I may say that I like the man. I believe he is to be trusted, but if he be an agent of Volga or Gabriel, his opportunity has come. He is in a position to make accurate maps of the fort and of all our masked fortifications along the city walls." Beyond a doubt, the baron was worried.

"Neither am I one of you," said Beverly stoutly. "Why shouldn't I prove to be a traitress?"

"You have no quarrel with us, Miss Calhoun," said Dangloss.

"If anything happens, then, I am to be blamed for it," she cried in deep distress. "I brought him to Edelweiss, and I believe in him."

"For his own sake, your highness, and Miss Calhoun, I suggest that no opportunity should be given him to communicate with the outside world. We cannot accuse him, of course, but we can protect him. I come to ask your permission to have him detailed for duty only in places where no suspicion can attach to any of his actions."

"You mean inside the city walls?" asked Yetive.

"Yes, your highness, and as far as possible from the fortress."

"I think it is a wise precaution. Don't be angry, Beverly," the princess said gently. "It is for his own sake, you see. I am acting on the presumption that he is wholly innocent of any desire to betray us."

"It would be easy for someone high in position to accuse and convict him," said Dangloss meaningly.

"And it would be just like someone, too," agreed Beverly, her thoughts, with the others', going toward none but one man "high in power."

Later in the day she called Baldos to her side as they were riding in the castle avenue. She was determined to try a little experiment of her own.

"Baldos, what do you think of the fortress?" she

"I could overthrow it after half an hour's bombardment, your highness," he answered, without thinking. She started violently.

"Is it possible? Are there so many weak points?" she went on, catching her breath.

"There are three vital points of weakness, your highness. The magazine can be reached from the outside if one knows the lay of the land; the parade-ground exposes the ammunition building to certain disadvantages, and the big guns could be silenced in an hour if an enemy had the sense first to bombard from the elevation northeast of the city."

"Good heavens!" gasped poor Beverly. "Have you studied all this out?"

"I was once a real soldier, your highness," he said, simply. "It was impossible for me not to see the defects in your fort."

"You—you haven't told anyone of this, have you?" she cried, white-faced and anxious.

"No one but your highness. You do not employ me as a tale-bearer, I trust."

"I did not mean to question your honor," she said. "Would you mind going before the heads of the war department and tell them just what you have told me? I mean about the weak spots."

"If it is your command, your highness," he said quietly, but he was surprised.

"You may expect to be summoned then, so hold yourself in readiness. And, Baldos—"

"Yes, your highness?"

"You need say nothing to them of our having talked the matter over beforehand—unless they pin you down to it, you know."



CHAPTER XV

THE TESTING OF BALDOS

A few hours later, all was dark and silent within the castle. On the stone walks below, the steady tread of sentinels rose on the still air; in the hallways the trusted guardsmen glided about like spectres or stood like statues. An hour before the great edifice had been bright and full of animation; now it slumbered.

It was two o'clock. The breath of roses scented the air, the gurgle of fountains was the only music that touched the ear. Beverly Calhoun, dismissing Aunt Fanny, stepped from her window out upon the great stone balcony. A rich oriental dressing-gown, loose and comfortable, was her costume. Something told her that sleep would be a long time coming, and an hour in the warm, delightful atmosphere of the night was more attractive than the close, sleepless silence of her own room. Every window along the balcony was dark, proving that the entire household had retired to rest.

She was troubled. The fear had entered her head that the castle folk were regretting the advent of Baldos, that everyone was questioning the wisdom of his being in the position he occupied through her devices. Her talk with him did much to upset her tranquillity. That he knew so much of the fortress bore out the subtle suspicions of Dangloss and perhaps others. She was troubled, not that she doubted him, but that if anything went wrong an accusation against him, however unjust, would be difficult to overcome. And she would be to blame, in a large degree.

For many minutes she sat in the dark shadow of a great pillar, her elbows upon the cool balustrade, staring dreamily into the star-studded vault above. Far away in the air she could see the tiny yellow lights of the monastery, lonely sentinel on the mountain top. From the heights near that abode of peace and penitence an enemy could destroy the fortress to the south. Had not Baldos told her so? One big gun would do the work if it could be taken to that altitude. Baldos could draw a perfect map of the fortress. He could tell precisely where the shells should fall. And already the chief men in Edelweiss were wondering who he was and to what end he might utilize his knowledge. They were watching him, they were warning her.

For the first time since she came to the castle, she felt a sense of loneliness, a certain unhappiness. She could not shake off the feeling that she was, after all, alone in her belief in Baldos. Her heart told her that the tall, straightforward fellow she had met in the hills was as honest as the day. She was deceiving him, she realized, but he was misleading no one. Off in a distant part of the castle ground she could see the long square shadow that marked the location of the barracks and messroom. There he was sleeping, confidently believing in her and her power to save him from all harm. Something in her soul cried out to him that she would be staunch and true, and that he might sleep without a tremor of apprehensiveness.

Suddenly she smiled nervously and drew back into the shadow of the pillar. It occurred to her that he might be looking across the moon-lit park, looking directly at her through all that shadowy distance. She was conscious of a strange glow in her cheeks and a quickening of the blood as she pulled the folds of her gown across her bare throat.

"Not the moon, nor the stars, nor the light in St. Valentine's, but the black thing away off there on the earth," said a soft voice behind her, and Beverly started as if the supernatural had approached her. She turned to face the princess, who stood almost at her side.

"Yetive! How did you get here?"

"That is what you are looking at, dear," went on Yetive, as if completing her charge. "Why are you not in bed?"

"And you? I thought you were sound asleep long ago," murmured Beverly, abominating the guilty feeling that came over her. The princess threw her arm about Beverly's shoulder.

"I have been watching you for half an hour," she said gently. "Can't two look at the moon and stars as well as one? Isn't it my grim old castle? Let us sit here together, dear, and dream awhile."

"You dear Yetive," and Beverly drew her down beside her on the cushions. "But, listen: I want you to get something out of your head. I was not looking at anything in particular."

"Beverly, I believe you were thinking of Baldos," said the other, her fingers straying fondly across the girl's soft hair.

"Ridiculous!" said Beverly, conscious for the first time that he was seldom out of her thoughts. The realization came like a blow, and her eyes grew very wide out there in the darkness.

"And you are troubled on his account. I know it, dear. You—"

"Well, Yetive, why shouldn't I be worried? I brought him here against his will," protested Beverly. "If anything should happen to him—" she shuddered involuntarily.

"Don't be afraid, Beverly. I have as much confidence in him as you have. His eyes are true. Grenfall believes in him, too, and so does Mr. Anguish. Gren says he would swear by him, no matter who he is."

"But the others?" Beverly whispered.

"Baron Dangloss is his friend, and so is Quinnox. They know a man. The count is different."

"I loathe that old wretch!"

"Hush! He has not wronged you in any way."

"But he has been unfair and mean to Baldos."

"It is a soldier's lot, my dear."

"But he may be Prince Dantan or Frederic or the other one, don't you know," argued Beverly, clenching her hands firmly.

"In that event, he would be an honorable soldier, and we have nothing to fear in him. Neither of them is our enemy. It is the possibility that he is not one of them that makes his presence here look dangerous."

"I don't want to talk about him," said Beverly, but she was disappointed when the princess obligingly changed the subject.

Baldos was not surprised, scarcely more than interested, when a day or two later, he was summoned to appear before the board of strategy. If anyone had told him, however, that on a recent night a pair of dreamy gray eyes had tried to find his window in the great black shadow, he might have jumped in amazement and—delight. For at that very hour he was looking off toward the castle, and his thoughts were of the girl who drew back into the shadow of the pillar.

The Graustark ministry had received news from the southern frontier. Messengers came in with the alarming and significant report that Dawsbergen was strengthening her fortifications in the passes and moving war supplies northward. It meant that Gabriel and his people expected a fight and were preparing for it. Count Halfont hastily called the ministers together, and Lorry and the princess took part in their deliberations. General Marlanx represented the army; and it was he who finally asked to have Baldos brought before the council. The Iron Count plainly intimated that the new guard was in a position to transmit valuable information to the enemy. Colonel Quinnox sent for him, and Baldos was soon standing in the presence of Yetive and her advisers. He looked about him with a singular smile. The one whom he was supposed to regard as the princess was not in the council chamber. Lorry opened the examination at the request of Count Halfont, the premier. Baldos quietly answered the questions concerning his present position, his age, his term of enlistment, and his interpretations of the obligations required of him.

"Ask him who he really is," suggested the Iron Count sarcastically.

"We can expect but one answer to that question," said Lorry, "and that is the one which he chooses to give."

"My name is Baldos—Paul Baldos," said the guard, but he said it in such a way that no one could mistake his appreciation of the fact that he could give one name as well as another and still serve his own purposes.

"That is lie number one," observed Marlanx loudly. Every eye was turned upon Baldos, but his face did not lose its half-mocking expression of serenity.

"Proceed with the examination, Mr. Lorry" said Count Halfont, interpreting a quick glance from Yetive.

"Are you willing to answer any and all questions we may ask in connection with your observations since you became a member of the castle guard?" asked Lorry.

"I am."

"Did you take especial care to study the interior of the fortress when you were there several days ago?"

"I did."

"Have you discussed your observations with anyone since that time?"

"I have."

"With whom?"

"With her highness, the princess," said Baldos, without a quiver. There was a moment's silence, and furtive looks were cast in the direction of Yetive, whose face was a study. Almost instantaneously the entire body of listeners understood that he referred to Beverly Calhoun. Baldos felt that he had been summoned before the board at the instigation of his fair protectress.

"And your impressions have gone no further?"

"They have not, sir. It was most confidential."

"Could you accurately reproduce the plans of the fortress?"

"I think so. It would be very simple."

"Have you studied engineering?"

"Yes."

"And you could scientifically enumerate the defects in the construction of the fort?"

"It would not be very difficult, sir."

"It has come to our ears that you consider the fortress weak in several particulars. Have you so stated at any time?"

"I told the princess that the fortress is deplorably weak. In fact, I think I mentioned that it could be taken with ease." He was not looking at Count Marlanx, but he knew that the old man's eyes were flaming. Then he proceeded to tell the board how he could overcome the fortress, elaborating on his remarks to Beverly. The ministers listened in wonder to the words of this calm, indifferent young man.

"Will you oblige us by making a rough draft of the fort's interior?" asked Lorry, after a solemn pause. Baldos took the paper and in remarkably quick time drew the exact lay of the fortress. The sketch went the rounds and apprehensive looks were exchanged by the ministers.

"It is accurate, by Jove," exclaimed Lorry. "I doubt if a dweller in the fort could do better. You must have been very observing."

"And very much interested," snarled Marlanx.

"Only so far as I imagined my observations might be of benefit to someone else," said Baldos coolly. Again the silence was like death.

"Do you know what you are saying, Baldos?" asked Lorry, after a moment.

"Certainly, Mr. Lorry. It is the duty of any servant of her highness to give her all that he has in him. If my observations can be of help to her, I feel in duty bound to make the best of them for her sake, not for my own."

"Perhaps you can suggest modifications in the fort," snarled Marlanx. "Why don't you do it, sir, and let us have the benefit of your superior intelligence? No, gentlemen, all this prating of loyalty need not deceive us," he cried, springing to his feet. "The fellow is nothing more nor less than an infernal spy—and the Tower is the place for him! He can do no harm there."

"If it were my intention to do harm, gentlemen, do you imagine that I should withhold my information for days?" asked Baldos. "If I am a spy, you may rest assured that Count Marlanx's kindnesses should not have been so long disregarded. A spy does not believe in delays."

"My—my kindnesses?" cried Marlanx. "What do you mean, sir?"

"I mean this. Count Marlanx," said Baldos, looking steadily into the eyes of the head of the army. "It was kind and considerate of you to admit me to the fortress—no matter in what capacity, especially at a critical time like this. You did not know me, you had no way of telling whether my intentions were honest or otherwise, and yet I was permitted to go through the fort from end to end. No spy could wish for greater generosity than that."

An almost imperceptible smile went round the table, and every listener but one breathed more freely. The candor and boldness of the guard won the respect and confidence of all except Marlanx. The Iron Count was white with anger. He took the examination out of Lorry's hands, and plied the stranger with insulting questions, each calm answer making him more furious than before. At last, in sheer impotence, he relapsed into silence, waving his hand to Lorry to indicate that he might resume.

"You will understand, Baldos, that we have some cause for apprehension," said Lorry, immensely gratified by the outcome of the tilt. "You are a stranger; and, whether you admit it or not, there is reason to believe that you are not what you represent yourself to be."

"I am a humble guard at present, sir, and a loyal one. My life is yours should I prove otherwise."

Yetive whispered something in Lorry's ear at this juncture. She was visibly pleased and excited. He looked doubtful for an instant, and then apparently followed her suggestion, regardless of consequences.

"Would you be willing to utilize your knowledge as an engineer by suggesting means to strengthen the fortress?" The others stared in fresh amazement. Marlanx went as white as death.

"Never!" he blurted out hoarsely.

"I will do anything the princess commands me to do," said Baldos easily.

"You mean that you serve her only?"

"I serve her first, sir. If she were here she could command me to die, and there would be an end to Baldos," and he smiled as he said it. The real princess looked at him with a new, eager expression, as if something had just become clear to her. There was a chorus of coughs and a round of sly looks.

"She could hardly ask you to die," said Yetive, addressing him for the first time.

"A princess is like April weather, madam," said Baldos, with rare humor, and the laugh was general, Yetive resolved to talk privately with this excellent wit before the hour was over. She was confident that he knew her to be the princess.

"I would like to ask the fellow another question," said Marlanx, fingering his sword-hilt nervously. "You say you serve the princess. Do you mean by that that you imagine your duties as a soldier to comprise dancing polite attendance within the security of these walls?"

"I believe I enlisted as a member of the castle guard, sir. The duty of the guard is to protect the person of the ruler of Graustark, and to do that to the death."

"It is my belief that you are a spy. You can show evidence of good faith by enlisting to fight against Dawsbergen and by shooting to kill," said the count, with a sinister gleam in his eye.

"And if I decline to serve in any other capacity than the one I now—"

"Then I shall brand you as a spy and a coward."

"You have already called me a spy, your excellency. It will not make it true, let me add, if you call me a coward. I refuse to take up arms against either Dawsbergen or Axphain."

The remark created a profound sensation.

"Then you are employed by both instead of one!" shouted the Iron Count gleefully.

"I am employed as a guard for her royal highness," said Baldos, with a square glance at Yetive, "and not as a fighter in the ranks. I will fight till death for her, but not for Graustark."



CHAPTER XVI

ON THE WAY TO ST. VALENTINE'S

"By Jove, I like that fellow's coolness," said Lorry to Harry Anguish, after the meeting. "He's after my own heart. Why, he treats us as though we were the suppliants, he the alms-giver. He is playing a game, I'll admit, but he does it with an assurance that delights me."

"He is right about that darned old fort," said Anguish. "His knowledge of such things proves conclusively that he is no ordinary person."

"Yetive had a bit of a talk with him just now," said Lorry, with a reflective smile. "She asked him point blank if he knew who she was. He did not hesitate a second. 'I remember seeing you in the audience chamber recently.' That was a facer for Yetive. 'I assure you that it was no fault of mine that you saw me,' she replied. 'Then it must have been your friend who rustled the curtains?' said the confounded bluffer. Yetive couldn't keep a straight face. She laughed and then he laughed. 'Some day you may learn more about me,' she said to him. 'I sincerely trust that I may, madam,' said he, and I'll bet my hat he was enjoying it better than either of us. Of course, he knows Yetive is the princess. It's his intention to serve Beverly Calhoun, and he couldn't do it if he were to confess that he knows the truth. He's no fool."

Baldos was not long in preparing plans for the changes in the fortress. They embodied a temporary readjustment of the armament and alterations in the ammunition house. The gate leading to the river was closed and the refuse from the fort was taken to the barges by way of the main entrance. There were other changes suggested for immediate consideration, and then there was a general plan for the modernizing of the fortress at some more convenient time. Baldos laconically observed that the equipment was years behind the times. To the amazement of the officials, he was able to talk intelligently of forts in all parts of the world, revealing a wide and thorough knowledge and extensive inspection. He had seen American as well as European fortifications. The Graustark engineers went to work at once to perfect the simple changes he advised, leaving no stone unturned to strengthen the place before an attack could be made.

Two, three weeks went by and the new guard was becoming an old story to the castle and army folk. He rode with Beverly every fair day and he looked at her window by night from afar off in the sombre barracks. She could not dissipate the feeling that he knew her to be other than the princess, although he betrayed himself by no word or sign. She was enjoying the fun of it too intensely to expose it to the risk of destruction by revealing her true identity to him. Logically, that would mean the end of everything. No doubt he felt the same and kept his counsel. But the game could not last forever, that was certain. A month or two more, and Beverly would have to think of the return to Washington.

His courage, his cool impudence, his subtle wit charmed her more than she could express. Now she was beginning to study him from a standpoint peculiarly and selfishly her own. Where recently she had sung his praises to Yetive and others, she now was strangely reticent. She was to understand another day why this change had come over her. Stories of his cleverness came to her ears from Lorry and Anguish and even from Dangloss. She was proud, vastly proud of him in these days. The Iron Count alone discredited the ability and the conscientiousness of the "mountebank," as he named the man who had put his nose out of joint. Beverly, seeing much of Marlanx, made the mistake of chiding him frankly and gaily about this aversion. She even argued the guard's case before the head of the army, imprudently pointing out many of his superior qualities in advocating his cause. The count was learning forbearance in his old age. He saw the wisdom of procrastination. Baldos was in favor, but someday there would come a time for his undoing.

In the barracks he was acquiring fame. Reports went forth with unbiased freedom. He established himself as the best swordsman in the service, as well as the most efficient marksman. With the foils and sabers he easily vanquished the foremost fencers in high and low circles. He could ride like a Cossack or like an American cowboy. Of them all, his warmest admirer was Haddan, the man set to watch him for the secret service. It may be timely to state that Haddan watched in vain.

The princess, humoring her own fancy as well as Beverly's foibles, took to riding with her high-spirited young guest on many a little jaunt to the hills. She usually rode with Lorry or Anguish, cheerfully assuming the subdued position befitting a lady-in-waiting apparently restored to favor on probation. She enjoyed Beverly's unique position. In order to maintain her attitude as princess, the fair young deceiver was obliged to pose in the extremely delectable attitude of being Lorry's wife.

"How can you expect the paragon to make love to you, dear, if he thinks you are another man's wife?" Yetive asked, her blue eyes beaming with the fun of it all.

"Pooh!" sniffed Beverly. "You have only to consult history to find the excuse. It's the dear old habit of men to make love to queens and get beheaded for it. Besides, he is not expected to make love to me. How in the world did you get that into your head?"

On a day soon after the return of Lorry and Anguish from a trip to the frontier, Beverly expressed a desire to visit the monastery of St. Valentine, high on the mountain top. It was a long ride over the circuitous route by which the steep incline was avoided and it was necessary for the party to make an early start. Yetive rode with Harry Anguish and his wife the countess, while Beverly's companion was the gallant Colonel Quinnox. Baldos, relegated to the background, brought up the rear with Haddan.

For a week or more Beverly had been behaving toward Baldos in the most cavalier fashion. Her friends had been teasing her; and, to her own intense amazement, she resented it. The fact that she felt the sting of their sly taunts was sufficient to arouse in her the distressing conviction that he had become important enough to prove embarrassing. While confessing to herself that it was a bit treacherous and weak, she proceeded to ignore Baldos with astonishing persistency. Apart from the teasing, it seemed to her of late that he was growing a shade too confident.

He occasionally forgot his differential air, and relaxed into a very pleasing but highly reprehensible state of friendliness. A touch of the old jauntiness cropped out here and there, a tinge of the old irony marred his otherwise perfect mien as a soldier. His laugh was freer, his eyes less under subjugation, his entire personality more arrogant. It was time, thought she resentfully, that his temerity should meet some sort of check.

And, moreover, she had dreamed of him two nights in succession.

How well her plan succeeded may best be illustrated by saying that she now was in a most uncomfortable frame of mind. Baldos refused to be properly depressed by his misfortune. He retired to the oblivion she provided and seemed disagreeably content. Apparently, it made very little difference to him whether he was in or out of favor. Beverly was in high dudgeon and low spirits.

The party rode forth at an early hour in the morning. It was hot in the city, but it looked cold and bleak on the heights. Comfortable wraps were taken along, and provision was made for luncheon at an inn half way up the slope. Quinnox regaled Beverly with stories in which Grenfall Lorry was the hero and Yetive the heroine. He told her of the days when Lorry, a fugitive with a price upon his head, charged with the assassination of Prince Lorenz, then betrothed to the princess, lay hidden in the monastery while Yetive's own soldiers hunted high and low for him. The narrator dwelt glowingly upon the trip from the monastery to the city walls one dark night when Lorry came down to surrender himself in order to shield the woman he loved, and Quinnox himself piloted him through the underground passage into the very heart of the castle. Then came the exciting scene in which Lorry presented himself as a prisoner, with the denouement that saved the princess and won for the gallant American the desire of his heart.

"What a brave fellow he was!" cried Beverly, who never tired of hearing the romantic story.

"Ah, he was wonderful, Miss Calhoun. I fought him to keep him from surrendering. He beat me, and I was virtually his prisoner when we appeared before the tribunal."

"It's no wonder she loved him and—married him."

"He deserved the best that life could give, Miss Calhoun."

"You had better not call me Miss Calhoun, Colonel Quinnox," said she, looking back apprehensively. "I am a highness once in a while, don't you know?"

"I implore your highness's pardon!" said he gaily.

The riders ahead had come to a standstill and were pointing off into the pass to their right. They were eight or ten miles from the city gates and more than half way up the winding road that ended at the monastery gates. Beverly and Quinnox came up with them and found all eyes centered on a small company of men encamped in the rocky defile a hundred yards from the main road.

It needed but a glance to tell her who comprised the unusual company. The very raggedness of their garments, the unforgetable disregard for consequences, the impudent ease with which they faced poverty and wealth alike, belonged to but one set of men—the vagabonds of the Hawk and Raven. Beverly went a shade whiter; her interest in everything else flagged, and she was lost in bewilderment. What freak of fortune had sent these men out of the fastnesses into this dangerously open place?

She recognized the ascetic Ravone, with his student's face and beggar's garb. Old Franz was there, and so were others whose faces and heterogeneous garments had become so familiar to her in another day. The tall leader with the red feather, the rakish hat and the black patch alone was missing; from the picture.

"It's the strangest-looking crew I've ever seen," said Anguish. "They look like pirates."

"Or gypsies" suggested Yetive. "Who are they, Colonel Quinnox? What are they doing here?" Quinnox was surveying the vagabonds with a critical, suspicious eye.

"They are not robbers or they would be off like rabbits" he said reflectively. "Your highness, there are many roving bands in the hills, but I confess that these men are unlike any I have heard about. With your permission, I will ride down and question them."

"Do, Quinnox. I am most curious."

Beverly sat very still and tense. She was afraid to look at Baldos, who rode up as Quinnox started into the narrow defile, calling to the escort to follow. The keen eyes of the guard caught the situation at once. Miss Calhoun shot a quick glance at him as he rode up beside her. His face was impassive, but she could see his hand clench the bridle-rein, and there was an air of restraint in his whole bearing.

"Remember your promise," he whispered hoarsely. "No harm must come to them." Then he was off into the defile. Anguish was not to be left behind. He followed, and then Beverly, more venturesome and vastly more interested than the others, rode recklessly after. Quinnox was questioning the laconic Ravone when she drew rein. The vagabonds seemed to evince but little interest in the proceedings. They stood away in disdainful aloofness. No sign of recognition passed between them and Baldos.

In broken, jerky sentences, Ravone explained to the colonel that they were a party of actors on their way to Edelweiss, but that they had been advised to give the place a wide berth. Now they were making the best of a hard journey to Serros, where they expected but little better success. He produced certain papers of identification which Quinnox examined and approved, much to Beverly's secret amazement. The princess and the colonel exchanged glances and afterwards a few words in subdued tones. Yetive looked furtively at Beverly and then at Baldos as if to enquire whether these men were the goat-hunters she had come to know by word of mouth. The two faces were hopelessly non-committal.

Suddenly Baldos's horse reared and began to plunge as if in terror, so that the rider kept his seat only by means of adept horsemanship. Ravone leaped forward and at the risk of injury clutched the plunging steed by the bit. Together they partially subdued the animal and Baldos swung to the ground at Ravone's side. Miss Calhoun's horse in the meantime had caught the fever. He pranced off to the roadside before she could get him under control.

She was thus in a position to observe the two men on the ground. Shielded from view by the body of the horse, they were able to put the finishing touches to the trick Baldos had cleverly worked. Beverly distinctly saw the guard and the beggar exchange bits of paper, with glances that meant more than the words they were unable to utter.

Baldos pressed into Ravone's hand a note of some bulk and received in exchange a mere slip of paper. The papers disappeared as if by magic, and the guard was remounting his horse before he saw that the act had been detected. The expression of pain and despair in Beverly's face sent a cold chill over him from head to foot.

She turned sick with apprehension. Her faith had received a stunning blow. Mutely she watched the vagabonds withdraw in peace, free to go where they pleased. The excursionists turned to the main road. Baldos fell back to his accustomed place, his imploring look wasted. She was strangely, inexplicably depressed for the rest of the day.



CHAPTER XVII

A NOTE TRANSLATED

She was torn by conflicting emotions. That the two friends had surreptitiously exchanged messages, doubtless by an arrangement perfected since he had entered the service—possibly within the week—could not be disputed. When and how had they planned the accidental meeting? What had been their method of communication? And, above all, what were the contents of the messages exchanged? Were they of a purely personal nature, or did they comprehend injury to the principality of Graustark? Beverly could not, in her heart, feel that Baldos was doing anything inimical to the country he served, and yet her duty and loyalty to Yetive made it imperative that the transaction should be reported at once. A word to Quinnox and Ravone would be seized and searched for the mysterious paper. This, however, looked utterly unreasonable, for the vagabonds were armed and in force, while Yetive was accompanied by but three men who could be depended upon. Baldos, under the conditions, was not to be reckoned upon for support. On the other hand, if he meant no harm, it would be cruel, even fatal, to expose him to this charge of duplicity. And while she turned these troublesome alternatives over in her mind, the opportunity to act was lost. Ravone and his men were gone, and the harm, if any was intended, was done.

From time to time she glanced back at the guard. His face was imperturbable, even sphinx-like in its steadiness. She decided to hold him personally to account. At the earliest available moment she would demand an explanation of his conduct, threatening him if necessary. If he proved obdurate there was but one course left open to her. She would deliver him up to the justice he had outraged. Hour after hour went by, and Beverly suffered more than she could have told. The damage was done, and the chance to undo it was slipping farther and farther out of her grasp. She began to look upon herself as the vilest of traitors. There was no silver among the clouds that marred her thoughts that afternoon.

It was late in the day when the party returned to the castle, tired out. Beverly was the only one who had no longing to seek repose after the fatiguing trip. Her mind was full of unrest. It was necessary to question Baldos at once. There could be no peace for her until she learned the truth from him. The strain became so great that at last she sent word for him to attend her in the park. He was to accompany the men who carried the sedan chair in which she had learned to sit with a delightful feeling of being in the eighteenth century.

In a far corner of the grounds, now gray in the early dusk, Beverly bade the bearers to set down her chair and leave her in quiet for a few minutes. The two men withdrew to a respectful distance, whereupon she called Baldos to her side. Her face was flushed with anxiety.

"You must tell me the truth about that transaction with Ravone," she said, coming straight to the point.

"I was expecting this, your highness," said he quietly. The shadows of night were falling, but she could distinguish the look of anxiety in his dark eyes.

"Well?" she insisted impatiently.

"You saw the notes exchanged?"

"Yes, yes, and I command you to tell me what they contained. It was the most daring thing I—"

"You highness, I cannot tell you what passed between us. It would be treacherous, "he said firmly. Beverly gasped in sheer amazement.

"Treacherous? Good heaven, sir, to whom do you owe allegiance—to me or to Ravone and that band of tramps?" she cried, with eyes afire.

"To both, your highness," he answered so fairly that she was for the moment abashed. "I am loyal to you—loyal to the heart's core, and yet I am loyal to that unhappy band of tramps, as you choose to call them. They are my friends. You are only my sovereign."

"And you won't tell me what passed between you? "she said, angered by this epigrammatic remark.

"I cannot and be true to myself."

"Oh? you are a glorious soldier," she exclaimed, with fierce sarcasm in her voice. "You speak of being true! I surprise you in the very act of—"

"Stay, your highness!" he said coldly. "You are about to call me a spy and a traitor. Spare me, I implore you, that humiliation. I have sworn to serve you faithfully and loyally. I have not deceived you, and I shall not. Paul Baldos has wronged no man, no woman. What passed between Ravone and myself concerns us only. It had nothing to do with the affairs of Graustark."

"Of course you would say that. You wouldn't be fool enough to tell the truth," cried she hotly. "I am the fool! I have trusted you and if anything goes wrong I alone am to blame for exposing poor Graustark to danger. Oh, why didn't I cry out this afternoon?"

"I knew you would not," he said, with cool unconcern.

"Insolence! What do you mean by that?" she cried in confusion.

"In your heart you knew I was doing no wrong. You shielded me then as you have shielded me from the beginning."

"I don't see why I sit here and let you talk to me like that," she said, feeling the symptoms of collapse. "You have not been fair with me, Baldos. You are laughing at me now and calling me a witless little fool. You—you did something to-day that shakes my faith to the very bottom. I never can trust you again. Good heaven, I hate to confess to—to everyone that you are not honest."

"Your highness!" he implored, coming close to the chair and bending over her. "Before God, I am honest with you. Believe me when I say that I have done nothing to injure Graustark. I cannot tell you what it was that passed between Ravone and me, but I swear on my soul that I have not been disloyal to my oath. Won't you trust me? Won't you believe?" His breath was fanning her ear, his voice was eager; she could feel the intensity of his eyes.

"Oh, I don't—don't know what to say to you," she murmured. "I have been so wrought up with fear and disappointment. You'll admit that it was very suspicious, won't you? "she cried, almost pleadingly.

"Yes, yes," he answered. His hand touched her arm, perhaps unconsciously. She threw back her head to give him a look of rebuke. Their eyes met, and after a moment both were full of pleading. Her lips parted, but the words would not come. She was afterwards more than thankful for this, because his eyes impelled her to give voice to amazing things that suddenly rushed to her head.

"I want to believe you," she whispered softly.

"You must—you do! I would give you my life. You have it now. It is in your keeping, and with it my honor. Trust me, I beseech you. I have trusted you."

"I brought you here—" she began, defending him involuntarily. "But, Baldos, you forget that I am the princess!" She drew away in sudden shyness, her cheeks rosy once more, her eyes filling with the most distressingly unreasonable tears. He did not move for what seemed hours to her. She heard the sharp catch of his breath and felt the repression that was mastering some unwelcome emotion in him.

Lights were springing into existence in all parts of the park. Beverly saw the solitary window in the monastery far away, and her eyes fastened on it as if for sustenance in this crisis of her life—this moment of surprise—this moment when she felt him laying hands upon the heart she had not suspected of treason. Twilight was upon them; the sun had set and night was rushing up to lend unfair advantage to the forces against which they were struggling. The orchestra in the castle was playing something soft and tender—oh, so far away.

"I forget that I am a slave, your highness," he said at last, and his voice thrilled her through and through. She turned quickly and to her utter dismay found his face and eyes still close to hers, glowing in the darkness.

"Those men—over there," she whispered helplessly. "They are looking at you!"

"Now, I thank God eternally," he cried softly, "You do not punish me, you do not rebuke me. God, there is no night!"

"You—you must not talk like that," she cried, pulling herself together suddenly. "I cannot permit it, Baldos. You forget who you are, sir,"

"Ah, yes, your highness," he said, before he stood erect. "I forget that I was a suspected traitor. Now I am guilty of lese majeste." Beverly felt herself grow hot with confusion.

"What am I to do with you?" she cried in perplexity, her heart beating shamefully. "You swear you are honest, and yet you won't tell me the truth. Now, don't stand like that! You are as straight as a ramrod, and I know your dignity is terribly offended. I may be foolish, but I do believe you intend no harm to Graustark. You cannot be a traitor."

"I will some day give my life to repay you for those words, your highness," he said. Her hand was resting on the side of the chair. Something warm touched it, and then it was lifted resistlessly. Hot, passionate lips burned themselves into the white fingers, and a glow went into every fiber of her body.

"Oh!" was all she could say. He gently released the hand and threw up his chin resolutely.

"I am almost ready to die," he said. She laughed for the first time since they entered the park.

"I don't know how to treat you," she said in a helpless flutter." You know a princess has many trials in life."