"Not the least of which is womanhood."

"Baldos," she said after a long pause. Something very disagreeable had just rushed into her brain. "Have you been forgetting all this time that the Princess Yetive is the wife of Grenfall Lorry?"

"It has never left my mind for an instant. From the bottom of my heart I congratulate him. His wife is an angel as well as a princess."

"Well, in the code of morals, is it quite proper to be so loyal to another man's wife?" she asked, and then she trembled. He was supposed to know her as the wife of Grenfall Lorry, and yet he had boldly shown his love for her.

"It depends altogether on the other man's wife," he said, and she looked up quickly. It was too dark to see his face, but something told her to press the point no further. Deep down in her heart she was beginning to rejoice in the belief that he had found her out. If he still believed her to be the real princess, then he was—but the subject of conversation, at least, had to be changed.

"You say your message to Ravone was of a purely personal nature," she said.

"Yes, your highness." She did not like the way in which he said "your highness." It sounded as if he meant it.

"How did you know that you were to see him to-day?"

"We have waited for this opportunity since last week. Franz was in the castle grounds last Thursday."

"Good heavens! You don't mean it!"

"Yes, your highness. He carried a message to me from Ravone. That is why Ravone and the others waited for me in the hills."

"You amaze me!"

"I have seen Franz often," he confessed easily. "He is an excellent messenger."

"So it would seem. We must keep a lookout for him. He is the go-between for you all, I see."

"Did you learn to say 'you all' in America?" he asked. Her heart gave a great leap. There was something so subtle in the query that she was vastly relieved.

"Never mind about that, sir. You won't tell me what you said in your note to Ravone."

"I cannot."

"Well, he gave you one in return. If you are perfectly sincere, Baldos, you will hand that note over to me. It shall go no farther, I swear to you, if, as you vow, it does not jeopardize Graustark. Now, sir, prove your loyalty and your honesty."

He hesitated for a long time. Then from an inner pocket he drew forth a bit of paper.

"I don't see why it has not been destroyed," he said regretfully. "What a neglectful fool I have been!"

"You might have said it had been destroyed," she said, happy because he had not said it.

"But that would have been a lie. Read it, your highness, and return it to me. It must be destroyed."

"It is too dark to read it here." Without a word he handed the paper to her and called the chair bearers, to whom he gave instructions that brought her speedily beneath one of the park lamps. She afterwards recalled the guilty impulse which forced her to sit on the tell-tale note while the men were carrying her along in the driveway. When it was quite safe she slyly opened the missive. His hand closed over hers, and the note, and he bent close once more.

"My only fear is that the test will make it impossible for me to kiss your hand again," said he in a strained voice. She looked up in surprise.

"Then it is really something disloyal?"

"I have called it a test, your highness," he responded enigmatically.

"Well, we'll see," she said, and forthwith turned her eyes to the all-important paper. A quick flush crossed her brow; her eyes blinked hopelessly. The note was written in the Graustark language!

"I'll read it later, Baldos. This is no place for me to be reading notes, don't you know? Really, it isn't. I'll give it back to you to-morrow," she was in haste to say.

An inscrutable smile came over his face.

"Ravone's information is correct, I am now convinced," he said slowly. "Pray, your highness, glance over it now, that I may destroy it at once," he persisted.

"The light isn't good."

"It seems excellent."

"And I never saw such a miserable scrawl as this. He must have written it on horseback and at full gallop,"

"It is quite legible, your highness."

"I really cannot read the stuff. You know his handwriting. Read it to me. I'll trust you to read It carefully."

"This is embarrassing, your highness, but I obey, of course, if you command. Here is what Ravone says:

"'We have fresh proof that she is not the princess, but the American girl. Be exceedingly careful that she does not lead you into any admissions. The Americans are tricky. Have little to say to her, and guard your tongue well. We are all well and are hoping for the best.'"



CHAPTER XVIII

CONFESSIONS AND CONCESSIONS

Beverly was speechless.

"Of course, your highness," said Baldos, deep apology in his voice, "Ravone is woefully misinformed. He is honest in his belief, and you should not misjudge his motives. How he could have been so blind as to confound you with that frisky American girl—but I beg your pardon. She is to be your guest. A thousand pardons, your highness."

She had been struck dumb by the wording of the note, but his apparently sincere apology for his friend set her every emotion into play once more. While he was speaking, her wits were forming themselves for conflict. She opened the campaign with a bold attack. "You—you believe me to be the princess, sure 'nough, don't you?" But with all her bravery, she was not able to look him in the face.

"How can you doubt it, your highness? Would I be serving you in the present capacity if I believed you to be anyone else?"

"Ravone's warning has not shaken your faith in me?"

"It has strengthened it. Nothing could alter the facts in the case. I have not, since we left Ganlook, been in doubt as to the identity of my benefactress."

"It seems to me that you are beating around the bush. I'll come straight to the point. How long have you known that I am not the princess of Graustark?"

"What!" he exclaimed, drawing back in well-assumed horror. "Do you mean—are you jesting? I beg of you, do not jest. It is very serious with me." His alarm was so genuine that she was completely deceived.

"I am not jesting," she half whispered, turning very cold. "Have you thought all along that I am the princess—that I am Grenfall Lorry's wife?"

"You told me that you were the princess."

"But I've never said that I was—was anyone's wife."

There was a piteous appeal in her voice and he was not slow to notice it and rejoice. Then his heart smote him.

"But what is to become of me if you are not the princess?" he asked after a long pause. "I can no longer serve you. This is my last day in the castle guard."

"You are to go on serving me—I mean you are to retain your place in the service," she hastened to say. "I shall keep my promise to you." How small and humble she was beginning to feel. It did not seem so entertaining, after all, this pretty deception of hers. Down in his heart, underneath the gallant exterior, what was his opinion of her? Something was stinging her eyes fiercely, and she closed them to keep back the tears of mortification.

"Miss Calhoun," he said, his manner changing swiftly, "I have felt from the first that you are not the princess of Graustark. I knew it an hour after I entered Edelweiss. Franz gave me a note at Ganlook, but I did not read it until I was a member of the guard."

"You have known it so long?" she cried joyously. "And you have trusted me? You have not hated me for deceiving you?"

"I have never ceased to regard you as my sovereign," he said softly.

"But just a moment ago you spoke of me as a frisky American girl," she said resentfully.

"I have used that term but once, while I have said 'your highness' a thousand times. Knowing that you were Miss Calhoun, I could not have meant either."

"I fancy I have no right to criticise you," she humbly admitted. "After all, it does not surprise me that you were not deceived. Only an imbecile could have been fooled all these weeks. Everyone said that you were no fool. It seems ridiculous that it should have gone to this length, doesn't it?"

"Not at all, your highness. I am not—"

"You have the habit, I see," she smiled.

"I have several months yet to serve as a member of the guard. Besides, I am under orders to regard you as the princess. General Marlanx has given me severe instructions in that respect."

"You are willing to play the game to the end?" she demanded, more gratified than she should have been.

"Assuredly, yes. It is the only safeguard I have. To alter my belief publicly would expose me to—to—"

"To what, Baldos?"

"To ridicule, for one thing, and to the generous mercies of Count Marlanx. Besides, it would deprive me of the privilege I mentioned a moment ago—the right to kiss your hand, to be your slave and to do homage to the only sovereign I can recognize. Surely, you will not subject me to exile from the only joys that life holds for me. You have sought to deceive me, and I have tried to deceive you. Each has found the other out, so we are quits. May we not now combine forces in the very laudible effort to deceive the world? If the world doesn't know that we know, why, the comedy may be long drawn out and the climax be made the more amusing."

"I'm afraid there was a touch of your old-time sarcasm in that remark," she said. "Yes, I am willing to continue the comedy. It seems the safest way to protect you—especially from General Marlanx. No one must ever know, Baldos; it would be absolutely pitiful. I am glad, oh, so glad, that you have known all the time. It relieves my mind and my conscience tremendously."

"Yes," he said gently; "I have known all along that you were not Mr. Lorry's wife." He had divined her thought and she flushed hotly. "You are still a princess, however. A poor goat-hunter can only look upon the rich American girl as a sovereign whom he must worship from far below."

"Oh, I'm not so rich as all that," she cried." Besides, I think it is time for a general clearing-up of the mysteries. Are you Prince Dantan, Prince Frederic, or that other one—Christobal somebody? Come, be fair with me."

"It seems that all Edelweiss looks upon me as a prince in disguise. You found me in the hills—"

"No; you found me. I have not forgotten, sir."

"I was a vagabond and a fugitive. My friends are hunted as I am. We have no home. Why everyone should suspect me of being a prince I cannot understand. Every roamer in the hills is not a prince. There is a price upon my head, and there is a reward for the capture of every man who was with me in the pass. My name is Paul Baldos, Miss Calhoun. There is no mystery in that. If you were to mention it in a certain city, you would quickly find that the name of Baldos is not unknown to the people who are searching for him. No, your highness, I regret exceedingly that I must destroy the absurd impression that I am of royal blood. Perhaps I am spoiling a pretty romance, but it cannot be helped. I was Baldos, the goat-hunter; I am now Baldos, the guard. Do you think that I would be serving as a Graustark guard if I were any one of the men you mention?"

Beverly listened in wonder and some disappointment, it must be confessed. Somehow a spark of hope was being forever extinguished by this straightforward denial. He was not to be the prince she had seen in dreams. "You are not like anyone else," she said." That is why we thought of you as—as—as—"

"As one of those unhappy creatures they call princes? Thank fortune, your highness, I am not yet reduced to such straits. My exile will come only when you send me away."

They were silent for a long time. Neither was thinking of the hour, or the fact that her absence in the castle could not be unnoticed. Night had fallen heavily upon the earth. The two faithful chair-bearers, respectful but with wonder in their souls, stood afar off and waited. Baldos and Beverly were alone in their own little world.

"I think I liked you better when you wore the red feather and that horrid patch of black," she said musingly.

"And was a heart-free vagabond," he added, something imploring in his voice.

"An independent courtier, if you please, sir," she said severely.

"Do you want me to go back to the hills? I have the patch and the feather, and my friends are—"

"No! Don't suggest such a thing—yet." She began the protest eagerly and ended it in confusion.

"Alas, you mean that some day banishment is not unlikely?"

"You don't expect to be a guard all your life, do you?"

"Not to serve the princess of Graustark, I confess. My aim is much higher. If God lets me choose the crown I would serve, I shall enlist for life. The crown I would serve is wrought of love, the throne I would kneel before is a heart, the sceptre I would follow is in the slender hand of a woman. I could live and die in the service of my own choosing. But I am only the humble goat-hunter whose hopes are phantoms, whose ideals are conceived in impotence."

"That was beautiful," murmured Beverly, looking up, fascinated for the moment.

"Oh, that I had the courage to enlist," he cried, bending low once more. She felt the danger in his voice, half tremulous with some thing more than loyalty, and drew her hand away from a place of instant jeopardy. It was fire that she was playing with, she realized with a start of consciousness. Sweet as the spell had grown to be, she saw that it must be shattered.

"It is getting frightfully late," she sharply exclaimed. "They'll wonder where I've gone to. Why, it's actually dark."

"It has been dark for half an hour, your highness," said he, drawing himself up with sudden rigidness that distressed her. "Are you going to return to the castle?"

"Yes. They'll have out a searching party pretty soon if I don't appear."

"You have been good to me to-day," he said thoughtfully. "I shall try to merit the kindness. Let me—"

"Oh, please don't talk in that humble way! It's ridiculous! I'd rather have you absolutely impertinent, I declare upon my honor I would. Don't you remember how you talked when you wore the red feather? Well, I liked it."

Baldos laughed easily, happily. His heart was not very humble, though his voice and manner were.

"Red is the color of insolence, you mean."

"It's a good deal jauntier than blue," she declared.

"Before you call the bearers, Miss—your highness, I wish to retract something I said awhile ago," he said very seriously.

"I should think you would," she responded, utterly misinterpreting his intent.

"You asked me to tell you what my message to Ravone contained and I refused. Subsequently the extent of his message to me led us into a most thorough understanding. It is only just and right that you should know what I said to him."

"I trust you, Baldos," she protested simply.

"That is why I tell this to you. Yesterday, your highness, the castle guard received their month's pay. You may not know how well we are paid, so I will say that it is ten gavvos to each. The envelope which I gave to Ravone contained my wages for the past six weeks. They need it far more than I do. There was also a short note of good cheer to those poor comrades of mine, and the assurance that one day our luck may change and starvation be succeeded by plenty. And, still more, I told him that I knew you to be Miss Calhoun and that you were my angel of inspiration. That was all, your highness."

"Thank you, Baldos, for telling me," she said softly. "You have made me ashamed of myself."

"On the contrary, I fear that I have been indulging in mock heroics. Truth and egotism—like a salad—require a certain amount of dressing."

"Since you are Baldos, and not a fairy prince, I think you may instruct the men to carry me back, being without the magic tapestry which could transplant me in a whiff. Goodness, who's that?"

Within ten feet of the sedan chair and directly behind the tall guard stood a small group of people. He and Beverly, engrossed in each other, had not heard their approach. How long they had been silent spectators of the little scene only the intruders knew. The startled, abashed eyes of the girl in the chair were not long in distinguishing the newcomers. A pace in front of the others stood the gaunt, shadowy form of Count Marlanx.

Behind him were the Princess Yetive, the old prime minister, and Baron Dangloss.



CHAPTER XIX

THE NIGHT FIRES

"Why, good evening. Is that you?" struggled somewhat hysterically through Beverly's lips. Not since the dear old days of the stolen jam and sugar-bits had she known the feelings of a culprit caught red-handed. The light from the park lamps revealed a merry, accusing smile on the face of Yetive, but the faces of the men were serious. Marlanx was the picture of suppressed fury.

"It is the relief expedition, your highness," said Yetive warmly. "We thought you were lost in the wilds of the jungle."

"She is much better protected than we could have imagined," said the Iron Count, malevolently mild and polite.

"Can't I venture into the park without being sent for?" asked Beverly, ready to fly into the proper rage. The pink had left her cheeks white. "I am proud to observe, however, that the relief expedition is composed of the most distinguished people in all Graustark. Is there any significance to be attached to the circumstance?"

"Can't we also go strolling in the park, my dear?" plaintively asked Yetive.

"It depends upon where we stroll, I fancy," suggested Marlanx derisively. Beverly flashed a fierce look at the head of the army. "By the way, Baron Dangloss, where is the incomparable Haddan?"

Baldos shot a startled glance at the two men and in an instant comprehension came to him. He knew the secret of Haddan's constant companionship. An expression of bitter scorn settled upon his mouth, Dangloss mumbled a reply, at which the Iron Count laughed sarcastically.

"I am returning to the castle," said Beverly coldly, "Pray don't let me interfere with your stroll. Or is it possible that you think it necessary to deliver me safely to my nurse, now that you have found me?"

"Don't be angry, dear," whispered Yetive, coming close to her side." I will tell you all about it later on. It was all due to Count Marlanx."

"It was all done to humiliate me," replied Beverly, indignation surpassing confusion at last. "I hate all of you."

"Oh, Beverly!" whispered the princess, in distress.

"Well, perhaps you were led into it," retracted Beverly, half mollified. "Look at that old villain whispering over there. No wonder his wives up and died. They just had to do it. I hate all but you and Count Halfont and Baron Dangloss," which left but one condemned.

"And Baldos?" added Yetive, patting her hand.

"I wish you'd be sensible," cried Beverly, most ungraciously, and Yetive's soft laugh irritated her. "How long had you been listening to us?"

"Not so much as the tiniest part of a minute," said Yetive, recalling another disastrous eavesdropping. "I am much wiser than when Baldos first came to serve you. We were quite a distance behind Count Marlanx, I assure you."

"Then he heard something?" asked Beverly anxiously.

"He has been in a detestable mood ever since we rejoined him. Could he have heard anything disagreeable?"

"No; on the contrary, it was quite agreeable."

All this time Baldos was standing at attention a few paces off, a model soldier despite the angry shifting of his black eyes. He saw that they had been caught in a most unfortunate position. No amount of explaining could remove the impression that had been forced upon the witnesses, voluntary or involuntary as the case might be. Baldos could do nothing to help her, while she was compelled to face the suspicions of her best friends. At best it could be considered nothing short of a clandestine meeting, the consequences of which she must suffer, not he. In his heated brain he was beginning to picture scandal with all the disgusting details that grow out of evil misrepresentation.

Count Halfont separated himself from the group of three and advanced to the sedan-chair. Marlanx and Dangloss were arguing earnestly in low tones.

"Shall we return, your highness?" asked Halfont, addressing both with one of his rarest smiles. "If I remember aright, we were to dine en famille to-night, and it is well upon the hour. Besides, Count Marlanx is a little distressed by your absent-mindedness, Miss Beverly, and I fancy he is eager to have it out with you."

"My absent-mindedness? What is it that I have forgotten?" asked Beverly, puckering her brow.

"That's the trouble, dear," said Yetive. "You forgot your promise to teach him how to play that awful game called poker. He has waited for you at the castle since six o'clock. It is now eight. Is it any wonder that he led the searching party? He has been on nettles for an hour and a half."

"Goodness, I'll wager he's in a temper!" exclaimed Beverly, with no remorse, but some apprehension.

"It would be wisdom to apologize to him," suggested Yetive, and her uncle nodded earnestly.

"All right. I think I can get him into good humor without half trying. Oh, Count Marlanx! Come here, please. You aren't angry with me, are you? Wasn't it awful for me to run away and leave you to play solitaire instead of poker? But, don't you know, I was so wretchedly tired after the ride, and I knew you wouldn't mind if I—" and so she ran glibly on, completely forestalling him, to the secret amusement of the others. Nevertheless, she was nervous and embarrassed over the situation. There was every reason to fear that the Iron Count had heard and seen enough to form a pretty good opinion of what had passed between herself and Baldos in this remote corner of the park. A deep sense of shame was taking possession of her.

Marlanx, smiling significantly, looked into her brave little face, and permitted her to talk on until she had run out of breath and composure. Then he bowed with exaggerated gallantry and informed her that he was hers to command, and that it was not for him to forgive but to accept whatever was her gracious pleasure. He called upon the chair-bearers and they took up their burden. Beverly promptly changed her mind and concluded to walk to the castle. And so they started off, the chair going ahead as if out of commission forever. Despite her efforts to do so, the American girl (feeling very much abused, by the way), was unsuccessful in the attempt to keep the princess at her side. Yetive deliberately walked ahead with Halfont and Dangloss. It seemed to Beverly that they walked unnecessarily fast and that Marlanx was provokingly slow. Baldos was twenty paces behind, as was his custom.

"Is it necessary for me to ask you to double the number of lessons I am to have?" Marlanx asked. He was quite too close to her side to please Beverly.

"Can't you learn in one lesson? Most Americans think they know all about poker after the first game."

"I am not so quick-witted, your highness."

"Far be it from me to accelerate your wits, Count Marlanx. It might not be profitable."

"You might profit by losing, you know," he ventured, leaning still closer, "Poker is not the only game of chance. It was chance that gave me a winning hand this evening."

"I don't understand."

"It shall be my pleasure to teach you in return for instructions I am to have. I have tried to teach your excellent guard one phase of the game. He has not profited, I fear. He has been blind enough to pick a losing hand in spite of my advice. It is the game of hearts." Beverly could not but understand. She shrank away with a shudder. Her wits did not desert her, however.

"I know the game," she said steadily. "One's object is to cast off all the hearts. I have been very lucky at the game, Count Marlanx."

"Umph!" was his ironical comment. "Ah, isn't this a night for lovers?" he went on, changing tack suddenly. "To stroll in the shadows, where even the moon is blind, is a joy that love alone provides. Come, fair mistress, share this joy with me."

With that his hand closed over her soft arm above the elbow and she was drawn close to his side. Beverly's first shock of revulsion was succeeded by the distressing certainty that Baldos was a helpless witness of this indignity. She tried to jerk her arm away, but he held it tight.

"Release my arm, sir!" she cried, hoarse with passion.

"Call your champion, my lady. It will mean his death. I have evidence that will insure his conviction and execution within an hour. Nothing could Call him, I say, and—"

"I will call him. He is my sworn protector, and I will command him to knock you down if you don't go away," she flared, stopping decisively.

"At his peril—"

"Baldos!" she called, without a second's hesitation. The guard came up with a rush just as Marlanx released her arm and fell away with a muttered imprecation.

"Your highness!" cried Baldos, who had witnessed everything.

"Are you afraid to die?" she demanded briefly; and clearly.

"No!"

"That is all," she said, suddenly calm. "I merely wanted to prove it to Count Marlanx." Tact had come to her relief most opportunely. Like a flash she saw that a conflict between the commander of the army and a guard could have but one result and that disastrous to the latter. One word from her would have ended everything for Baldos. She saw through the Iron Count's ruse as if by divine inspiration and profited where he least expected her to excel in shrewdness. Marlanx had deliberately invited the assault by the guard. His object had been to snare Baldos into his own undoing, and a horrible undoing it would have been. One blow would have secured the desired result. Nothing could have saved the guard who had struck his superior officer. But Beverly thought in time.

"To die is easy, your highness. You have but to ask it of me," said Baldos, whose face was white and drawn.

"She has no intention of demanding such a pleasant sacrifice" observed Count Marlanx, covering his failure skilfully. "Later on, perhaps, she may sign your death warrant. I am proud to hear, sir, that a member of my corps has the courage to face the inevitable, even though he be an alien and unwilling to die on the field of battle. You have my compliments, sir. You have been on irksome duty for several hours and must be fatigued as well as hungry. A soldier suffers many deprivations, not the least of which is starvation in pursuit of his calling. Mess is not an unwelcome relief to you after all these arduous hours. You may return to the barracks at once. The princess is under my care for the remainder of the campaign."

Baldos looked first at her and then at the sarcastic old general. Yetive and her companions were waiting for them at the fountain, a hundred yards ahead.

"You may go, Baldos," said Beverly in low tones.

"I am not fatigued nor—" he began eagerly.

"Go!" snarled Marlanx. "Am I to repeat a command to you? Do you ignore the word of your mistress?" There was a significant sneer in the way he said it.

"Mistress?" gasped Baldos, his eye blazing, his arm half raised.

"Count Marlanx!" implored Beverly, drawing herself to her full height and staring at him like a wounded thing.

"I humbly implore you not to misconstrue the meaning of the term, your highness," said the Count affably, "Ah, you have dropped something. Permit me. It is a note of some description, I think."

He stooped quickly—too quickly—and recovered from the ground at her feet the bit of paper which had fallen from her hand. It was the note from Ravone to Baldos which Beverly had forgotten in the excitement of the encounter.

"Count Marlanx, give me that paper!" demanded Beverly breathlessly.

"Is it a love-letter? Perhaps it is intended for me. At any rate, your highness, it is safe against my heart for the time being. When we reach the castle I shall be happy to restore it. It is safer with me. Come, we go one way and—have you not gone, sir?" in his most sarcastic tone to the guard. Beverly was trembling.

"No, I have not; and I shall not go until I see you obey the command of her highness. She has asked you for that piece of paper," said Baldos, standing squarely in front of Marlanx.

"Insolent dog! Do you mean to question my—"

"Give over that paper!"

"If you strike me, fellow, it will be—"

"If I strike you it will be to kill, Count Marlanx. The paper, sir." Baldos towered over the Iron Count and there was danger in his dare-devil voice. "Surely, sir, I am but obeying your own instructions. 'Protect the princess and all that is hers, with your life,' you have said to me."

"Oh, I wish you hadn't done this, Baldos," cried Beverly, panic-stricken.

"You have threatened my life. I shall not forget it, fool. Here is the precious note, your highness, with my condolences to the writer." Marlanx passed the note to her and then looked triumphantly at the guard. "I daresay you have done all you can, sir. Do you wish to add anything more?"

"What can one do when dealing with his superior and finds him a despicable coward?" said Baldos, with cool irony. "You are reputed to be a brave soldier. I know that to be false or I would ask you to draw the sword you carry and—" He was drawing his sword as he spoke.

"Baldos!" implored Beverly. Her evident concern infuriated Marlanx. In his heart he knew Baldos to be a man of superior birth and a foeman not to be despised from his own station. Carried away by passion, he flashed his sword from its sheath.

"You have drawn on me, sir," he snarled. "I must defend myself against even such as you. You will find that I am no coward. Time is short for your gallant lover, madam."

Before she could utter a word of protest the blades had clashed and they were hungry for blood. It was dark in the shadows of the trees and the trio were quite alone with their tragedy. She heard Baldos laugh recklessly in response to Marlanx's cry of:

"Oh, the shame of fighting with such carrion as you!"

"Don't jest at a time like this, count," said the guard, softly. "Remember that I lose, no matter which way it goes. If you kill me I lose, if I beat you I lose. Remember, you can still have me shot for insubordination and conduct unbecoming—"

"Stop!" almost shrieked Beverly. At risk of personal injury she rushed between the two swordsmen. Both drew back and dropped their points. Not a dozen passes had been made.

"I beg your highness's pardon," murmured Baldos, but he did not sheathe his sword.

"He forced it upon me," cried Marlanx triumphantly. "You were witness to it all. I was a fool to let it go as far as this. Put up your sword until another day—if that day ever comes to you."

"He will have you shot for this, Baldos," cried Beverly in her terror. Baldos laughed bitterly.

"Tied and blindfolded, too, your highness, to prove that he is a brave man and not a coward. It was short but it was sweet. Would that you had let the play go on. There was a spice in it that made life worth living and death worth the dying. Have you other commands for me, your highness?" His manner was so cool and defiant that she felt the tears spring to her eyes.

"Only that you put up your sword and end this miserable affair by going to your—your room."

"It is punishment enough. To-morrow's execution can be no harder."

Marlanx had been thinking all this time. Into his soul came the thrill of triumph, the consciousness of a mighty power. He saw the chance to benefit by the sudden clash and he was not slow to seize it.

"Never fear, my man," he said easily, "it won't be as bad as that. I can well afford to overlook your indiscretion of to-night. There will be no execution, as you call it. This was an affair between men not between man and the state. Our gracious referee is to be our judge. It is for her to pardon and to condemn. It was very pretty while it lasted and you are too good a swordsman to be shot. Go your way, Baldos, and remember me as Marlanx the man, not Marlanx the general. As your superior officer, I congratulate and commend you upon the manner in which you serve the princess."

"You will always find me ready to fight and to die for her" said Baldos gravely. "Do you think you can remember that. Count Marlanx?"

"I have an excellent memory," said the count steadily. With a graceful salute to Beverly, Baldos turned and walked away in the darkness.

"A perfect gentleman, Miss Calhoun, but a wretched soldier," said Marlanx grimly.

"He is a hero," she said quietly, a great calmness coming over her. "Do you mean it when you say you are not going to have him punished? He did only what a man should do, and I glory in his folly."

"I may as well tell you point blank that you alone can save him. He does not deserve leniency. It is in my power and it is my province to have him utterly destroyed, not only for this night's work, but for other and better reasons. I have positive proof that he is a spy. He knows I have this proof. That is why he would have killed me just now. It is for you to say whether he shall meet the fate of a spy or go unscathed. You have but to exchange promises with me and the estimable guardsman goes free—but he goes from Edelweiss forever. To-day he met the enemy's scouts in the hills, as you know quite well. Messages were exchanged, secretly, which you do not know of, of course. Before another day is gone I expect to see the results of his treachery. There may be manifestations to-night. You do not believe me, but wait and see if I am not right. He is one of Gabriel's cleverest spies."

"I do not believe it. You shall not accuse him of such things," she cried. "Besides, if he is a spy why should you shield him for my sake? Don't you owe it to Graustark to expose—"

"Here is the princess," said he serenely. "Your highness," addressing Yetive, "Miss Calhoun has a note which she refuses to let anyone read but you. Now, my dear young lady, you may give it directly into the hands of her highness."

Beverly gave him a look of scorn, but without a second's hesitation placed the missive in Yetive's hand. The Iron Count's jaw dropped, and he moistened his lips with his tongue two or three times. Something told him that a valuable chance had gone.

"I shall be only too happy to have your highness read the result of my first lesson in the Graustark language," she said, smiling gaily upon the count.

Two men in uniform came rushing up to the party, manifestly excited. Saluting the general, both began to speak at once.

"One at a time," commanded the count. "What is it?"

Other officers of the guard and a few noblemen from the castle came up, out of breath.

"We have discerned signal fires in the hills, your excellency," said one of the men from the fort. "There is a circle of fires and they mean something important. For half an hour they have been burning near the monastery; also in the valley below and on the mountains to the south."

There was an instant of deathly silence, as if the hearers awaited a crash. Marlanx looked steadily at Beverly's face and she saw the triumphant, accusing gleam in his eyes. Helplessly she stared into the crowd of faces. Her eyes fell upon Baldos, who suddenly appeared in the background. His face wore a hunted, imploring look. The next instant he disappeared among the shadows.



CHAPTER XX

GOSSIP OF SOME CONSEQUENCE

"There is no time to be lost," exclaimed Count Marlanx. "Ask Colonel Braze to report to me at the eastern gate with a detail of picked troopers—a hundred of them. I will meet him there in half an hour." He gave other sharp, imperative commands, and in the twinkling of an eye the peaceful atmosphere was transformed into the turbulent, exciting rush of activity. The significance of the fires seen in the hills could not be cheaply held. Instant action was demanded. The city was filled with the commotion of alarm; the army was brought to its feet with a jerk that startled even the most ambitious.

The first thing that General Marlanx did was to instruct Quinnox to set a vigilant watch over Baldos. He was not to be arrested, but it was understood that the surveillance should be but little short of incarceration. He was found at the barracks shortly after the report concerning the signal fires, and told in plain words that General Marlanx had ordered a guard placed over him for the time being, pending the result of an investigation. Baldos had confidently expected to be thrown into a dungeon for his affront. He did not know that Grenfall Lorry stood firm in his conviction that Baldos was no spy, and was supported by others in high authority.

Marlanx was bottling his wrath and holding back his revenge for a distinct purpose. Apart from the existence of a strong, healthy prejudice in the guard's favor, what the old general believed and what he could prove were two distinct propositions. He was crafty enough, however, to take advantage of a condition unknown to Beverly Calhoun, the innocent cause of all his bitterness toward Baldos.

As he hastened from the council chamber, his eyes swept the crowd of eager, excited women in the grand hall. From among them he picked Beverly and advanced upon her without regard for time and consequence. Despite her animation he was keen enough to see that she was sorely troubled. She did not shrink from him as he had half expected, but met him with bold disdain in her eyes.

"This is the work of your champion," he said in tones that did not reach ears other than her own. "I prophesied it, you must remember. Are you satisfied now that you have been deceived in him?"

"I have implicit confidence in him. I suppose you have ordered his arrest?" she asked with quiet scorn.

"He is under surveillance, at my suggestion. For your sake, and yours alone, I am giving him a chance. He is your protege; you are responsible for his conduct. To accuse him would be to place you in an embarrassing position. There is a sickening rumor in court circles that you have more than a merely kind and friendly interest in the rascal. If I believed that, Miss Calhoun, I fear my heart could not be kind to him. But I know it is not true. You have a loftier love to give. He is a clever scoundrel, and there is no telling how much harm he has already done to Graustark. His every move is to be watched and reported to me. It will be impossible for him to escape. To save him from the vengeance of the army, I am permitting him to remain in your service, ostensibly, at least. His hours of duty have been changed, however. Henceforth he is in the night guard, from midnight till dawn. I am telling you this, Miss Calhoun, because I want you to know that in spite of all the indignity I have suffered, you are more to me than any other being in the world, more to me even than my loyalty to Graustark. Do me the honor and justice to remember this. I have suffered much for you. I am a rough, hardened soldier, and you have misconstrued my devotion. Forgive the harsh words my passion may have inspired. Farewell! I must off to undo the damage we all lay at the door of the man you and I are protecting."

He was too wise to give her the chance to reply. A moment later he was mounted and off for the eastern gates, there to direct the movements of Colonel Braze and his scouts. Beverly flew at once to Yetive with her plea for Baldos. She was confronted by a rather sober-faced sovereign. The news of the hour was not comforting to the princess and her ministers.

"You don't believe he is a spy?" cried Beverly, stopping just inside the door, presuming selfishly that Baldos alone was the cause for worry. She resolved to tell Yetive of the conflict in the park.

"Dear me, Beverly, I am not thinking of him. We've discussed him jointly and severally and every other way and he has been settled for the time being. You are the only one who is thinking of him, my dear child. We have weightier things to annoy us."

"Goodness, how you talk! He isn't annoying. Oh, forgive me, Yetive, for I am the silliest, addle-patedest goose in the kingdom. And you are so troubled. But do you know that he is being watched? They suspect him. So did I, at first, I'll admit it. But I don't—now. Have you read the note I gave to you out there?"

"Yes, dear. It's just as I expected. He has known from the beginning. He knew when he caught Dagmar and me spying behind that abominable curtain. But don't worry me any longer about him, please. Wait here with me until we have reports from the troops. I shall not sleep until I know what those fires meant. Forget Baldos for an hour or two, for my sake."

"You dear old princess, I'm an awful brute, sure 'nough. I'll forget him forever for your sake. It won't be hard, either. He's just a mere guard. Pooh! He's no prince."

Whereupon, reinforced by Mrs. Anguish and the Countess Halfont, she proceeded to devote herself to the task of soothing and amusing the distressed princess while the soldiers of Graustark ransacked the moonlit hills. The night passed, and the next day was far on its way to sunset before the scouts came in with tidings. No trace of the mysterious signalers had been found. The embers of the half-dozen fires were discovered, but their builders were gone. The search took in miles of territory, but it was unavailing. Not even a straggler was found. The so-called troupe of actors, around whom suspicion centered, had been swallowed by the capacious solitude of the hills. Riders from the frontier posts to the south came in with the report that all was quiet in the threatened district. Dawsbergen was lying quiescent, but with the readiness of a skulking dog.

There was absolutely no solution to the mystery connected with the fires on the mountain sides. Baldos was questioned privately and earnestly by Lorry and Dangloss. His reply was simple, but it furnished food for reflection and, at the same time, no little relief to the troubled leaders.

"It is my belief, Mr. Lorry, that the fires were built by brigands and not by your military foes. I have seen these fires in the north, near Axphain, and they were invariably meant to establish communication between separated squads of robbers, all belonging to one band. My friends and I on more than one occasion narrowly escaped disaster by prying into the affairs of these signalers. I take it that the squads have been operating in the south and were brought together last night by means of the fires. Doubtless they have some big project of their own sort on foot."

That night the city looked for a repetition of the fires, but the mountains were black from dusk till dawn. Word reached the castle late in the evening, from Ganlook, that an Axphainian nobleman and his followers would reach Edelweiss the next day. The visit was a friendly but an important one. The nobleman was no other than the young Duke of Mizrox, intimate friend of the unfortunate Prince Lorenz who met his death at the hand of Prince Gabriel, and was the leader of the party which opposed the vengeful plans of Princess Volga. His arrival in Edelweiss was awaited with deep anxiety, for it was suspected that his news would be of the most important character.

Beverly Calhoun sat on the balcony with the princess long after midnight. The sky was black with the clouds of an approaching storm; the air was heavy with foreboding silence. Twice, from their darkened corner near the pillar, they saw Baldos as he paced steadily past the castle on patrol, with Haddan at his side. Dreamily the watchers in the cool balcony looked down upon the somber park and its occasional guardsman. Neither was in the mood to talk. As they rose at last to go to their rooms, something whizzed through the air and dropped with a slight thud in the center of the balcony. The two young women started back in alarm. A faint light from Beverly's window filtered across the stone floor.

"Don't touch it, Beverly," cried the princess, as the girl started forward with an eager exclamation. But Beverly had been thinking of the very object that now quivered before her in the dull light, saucy, aggressive and jaunty as it was the night when she saw it for the first time.

A long, slim red feather bobbed to and fro as if saluting her with soldierly fidelity. Its base was an orange, into which it had been stuck by the hand that tossed it from below. Beverly grasped it with more ecstasy than wisdom and then rushed to the stone railing, Yetive looking on in amazement. Diligently she searched the ground below for the man who had sent the red message, but he was nowhere in sight. Then came the sudden realization that she was revealing a most unmaidenly eagerness, to him as well as to the princess, for she did not doubt that he was watching from the shadows below. She withdrew from the rail in confusion and fled to her bed-chamber, followed by her curious companion. There were explanations—none of which struck speaker or listener as logical—and there were giggles which completely simplified the situation. Beverly thrust the slim red feather into her hair, and struck an attitude that would have set Baldos wild with joy if he could have seen it. The next day, when she appeared in the park, the feather stood up defiantly from the band of her sailor hat, though womanly perverseness impelled her to ignore Baldos when he passed her on his way to mess.

The Duke of Mizrox came into the city hours after the time set for his arrival. It was quite dark when the escort sent by Colonel Quinnox drew up at the castle gates with the visitor. The duke and his party had been robbed by brigands in the broad daylight and at a point not more than five miles from Edelweiss! And thus the mystery of the signal fires was explained. Count Marlanx did not soon forget the triumphant look he received from Beverly Calhoun when the duke's misfortunes were announced. Shameless as it may seem, she rejoiced exceedingly over the acts of the robbers.

Mizrox announced to the princess and her friends that he was not an emissary from the Axphainian government. Instead, he was but little less than a fugitive from the wrath of Volga and the crown adherents. Earlier in the week he had been summoned before Volga and informed that his absence for a few months, at least, from the principality was desirable. The privilege was allowed him of selecting the country which he desired to visit during that period, and he coolly chose Graustark. He was known to have friendly feelings for that state; but no objections were raised. This friendship also gave him a welcome in Edelweiss. Mizrox plainly stated his position to Yetive and the prime minister. He asked for protection, but declined to reveal any of the plans then maturing in his home country. This reluctance to become a traitor, even though he was not in sympathy with his sovereign, was respected by the princess. He announced his willingness to take up arms against Dawsbergen, but would in no way antagonize Axphain from an enemy's camp.

The duke admitted that the feeling in Axphain's upper circles was extremely bitter toward Graustark. The old-time war spirit had not died down. Axphain despised her progressive neighbor.

"I may as well inform your highness that the regent holds another and a deeper grudge against Graustark," he said, in the audience chamber where were assembled many of the nobles of the state, late on the night of his arrival. "She insists that you are harboring and even shielding the pretender to our throne, Prince Frederic. It is known that he is in Graustark and, moreover, it is asserted that he is in direct touch with your government."

Yetive and her companions looked at one another with glances of Comprehension. He spoke in English now for the benefit of Beverly Calhoun, an interested spectator, who felt her heart leap suddenly and swiftly into violent insurrection.

"Nothing could be more ridiculous," said Yetive after a pause. "We do not know Frederic, and we are not harboring him."

"I am only saying what is believed to be true by Axphain, your highness. It is reported that he joined you in the mountains in June and since has held a position of trust in your army."

"Would you know Prince Frederic if you were to see him?" quietly asked Lorry.

"I have not seen him since he was a very small boy, and then but for a moment—on the day when he and his mother were driven through the streets on their way to exile."

"We have a new man in the Castle Guard and there is a mystery attached to him. Would you mind looking at him and telling us if he is what Frederic might be in his manhood?" Lorry put the question and everyone present drew a deep breath of interest.

Mizrox readily consented and Baldos, intercepted on his rounds, was led unsuspecting into an outer chamber. The duke, accompanied by Lorry and Baron Dangloss, entered the room. They were gone from the assemblage but a few minutes, returning with smiles of uncertainty on their faces.

"It is impossible, your highness, for me to say whether or not it is Frederic," said the duke frankly. "He is what I imagine the pretender might be at his age, but it would be sheer folly for me to speculate. I do not know the man."

Beverly squeezed the Countess Dagmar's arm convulsively.

"Hurrah!" she whispered, in great relief. Dagmar looked at her in astonishment. She could not fathom the whimsical American.

"They have been keeping an incessant watch over the home of Frederic's cousin. He is to marry her when the time is propitious," volunteered the young duke. "She is the most beautiful girl in Axphain, and the family is one of the wealthiest. Her parents bitterly oppose the match. They were to have been secretly married some months ago, and there is a rumor to the effect that they did succeed in evading the vigilance of her people."

"You mean that they may be married?" asked Yetive, casting a quick glance at Beverly.

"It is not improbable, your highness. He is known to be a daring young fellow, and he has never failed in a siege against the heart of woman. Report has it that he is the most invincible Lothario that ever donned love's armor." Beverly was conscious of furtive glances in her direction, and a faint pink stole into her temples." Our fugitive princes are lucky in neither love nor war," went on the duke." Poor Dantan, who is hiding from Gabriel, is betrothed to the daughter of the present prime minister of Dawsbergen, the beautiful Iolanda, I have seen her. She is glorious, your highness."

"I, too, have seen her," said Yetive, more gravely than she thought. "The report of their betrothal is true, then?"

"His sudden overthrow prevented the nuptials which were to have taken place in a month had not Gabriel returned. Her father, the Duke of Matz, wisely accepted the inevitable and became prime minister to Gabriel. Iolanda, it is said, remains true to him and sends messages to him as he wanders through the mountains."

Beverly's mind instantly reverted to the confessions of Baldos. He had admitted the sending and receiving of messages through Franz. Try as she would, she could not drive the thought from her mind that he was Dantan and now came the distressing fear that his secret messages were words of love from Iolanda. The audience lasted until late in the night, but she was so occupied with her own thoughts that she knew of but little that transpired.

Of one thing she was sure. She could not go to sleep that night.



CHAPTER XXI

THE ROSE

The next morning Aunt Fanny had a hard time of it. Her mistress was petulant; there was no sunshine in the bright August day as it appeared to her. Toward dawn, after she had counted many millions of black sheep jumping backward over a fence, she had fallen asleep. Aunt Fanny obeyed her usual instructions on this luckless morning. It was Beverly's rule to be called every morning at seven o'clock. But how was her attendant to know that the graceful young creature who had kicked the counterpane to the foot of the bed and had mauled the pillow out of all shape, had slept for less than thirty minutes? How was she to know that the flushed face and frown were born in the course of a night of distressing perplexities? She knew only that the sleeping beauty who lay before her was the fairest creature in all the universe. For some minutes Aunt Fanny stood off and admired the rich youthful glory of the sleeper, prophetically reluctant to disturb her happiness. Then she obeyed the impulse of duty and spoke the summoning words.

"Wha—what time is it?" demanded the newcomer from the land of Nod, stretching her fine young body with a splendid but discontented yawn.

"Seben, Miss Bev'ly; wha' time do yo' s'pose hit is? Hit's d' reg'lah time, o' co'se. Did yo' all have a nice sleep, honey?" and Aunt Fanny went blissfully about the business of the hour.

"I didn't sleep a wink, confound it," grumbled Beverly, rubbing her eyes and turning on her back to glare up at the tapestry above the couch.

"Yo' wasn' winkin' any when Ah fust come into de room, lemme tell yo'," cackled Aunt Fanny with caustic freedom.

"See here, now, Aunt Fanny, I'm not going to stand any lecture from you this morning. When a fellow hasn't slept a—"

"Who's a-lecturin' anybody, Ah'd lak to know? Ah'm jes' tellin' yo' what yo' was a-doin' when Ah came into de room. Yo' was a-sleepin' p'etty doggone tight, lemme tell yo'. Is yo' goin' out fo' yo' walk befo' b'eakfus, honey? 'Cause if yo' is, yo' all 'll be obleeged to climb out'n dat baid maghty quick-like. Yo' baf is ready, Miss Bev'ly."

Beverly splashed the water with unreasonable ferocity for a few minutes, trying to enjoy a diversion that had not failed her until this morning.

"Aunt Fanny," she announced, after looking darkly through her window into the mountains above, "if you can't brush my hair—ouch!—any easier than this, I'll have someone else do it, that's all. You're a regular old bear."

"Po' lil' honey," was all the complacent "bear" said in reply, without altering her methods in the least.

"Well," said Beverly threateningly, with a shake of her head, "be careful, that's all. Have you heard the news?"

"Wha' news, Miss Bev'ly?"

"We're going back to Washin'ton."

"Thank de Lawd! When?"

"I don't know. I've just this instant made up my mind. I think we'll start—let's see: this is the sixth of August, isn't it? Well, look and see, if you don't know, stupid. The tenth? My goodness, where has the time gone, anyway? Well? we'll start sometime between the eleventh and the twelfth."

"Of dis monf, Miss Bev'ly?"

"No; September. I want you to look up a timetable for me to-day. We must see about the trains."

"Dey's on'y one leavin' heah daily, an' hit goes at six in de mo'nin'. One train a day! Ain' 'at scan'lous?"

"I'm sure, Aunt Fanny, it is their business—not ours," said Beverly severely.

"P'raps dey mought be runnin' a excuhsion 'roun' 'baout Septembeh, Miss Bev'ly," speculated Aunt Fanny consolingly. "Dey gen'ly has 'em in Septembeh."

"You old goose," cried Beverly, in spite of herself.

"Ain' yo' habin' er good time, honey?"

"No, I am not."

"Fo' de lan's sake, Ah wouldn' s'picioned hit fo' a minnit. Hit's de gayest place Ah mos' eveh saw—'cept Wash'ton an' Lex'ton an' Vicksbu'g."

"Well, you don't know everything," said Beverly crossly. "I wish you'd take that red feather out of my hat—right away."

"Shall Ah frow hit away, Miss Bev'ly?"

"We—ll, no; you needn't do that," said Beverly, "Put it on my dressing-table. I'll attend to it."

"Wha's become o' de gemman 'at wo' hit in the fust place? Ah ain' seen him fo' two—three days."

"I'm sure I don't know. He's probably asleep. That class of people never lose sleep over anything."

"'E's er pow'ful good-lookin' pusson," suggested Aunt Fanny. Beverly's eyes brightened.

"Oh, do you think so?" she said, quite indifferently. "What are you doing with that hat?"

"Takin' out de featheh—jes' as—"

"Well, leave it alone. Don't disturb my things, Aunt Fanny. How many times must I tell you—"

"Good Lawd!" was all that Aunt Fanny could say.

"Don't forget about the time-tables," said Beverly, as she sallied forth for her walk in the park.

In the afternoon she went driving with Princess Yetive and the young Duke of Mizrox, upon whose innocent and sufficiently troubled head she was heaping secret abuse because of the news he brought. Later, Count Marlanx appeared at the castle for his first lesson in poker. He looked so sure of himself that Beverly hated him to the point of desperation. At the same time she was eager to learn how matters stood with Baldos. The count's threat still hung over her head, veiled by its ridiculous shadow of mercy. She knew him well enough by this time to feel convinced that Baldos would have to account for his temerity, sooner or later. It was like the cat and the helpless mouse.

"It's too hot," she protested, when he announced himself ready for the game. "Nobody plays poker when it's 92 in the shade."

"But, your highness," complained the count, "war may break out any day. I cannot concede delay."

"I think there's a game called 'shooting craps,'" suggested she serenely. "It seems to me it would be particularly good for warriors. You could be shooting something all the time."

He went away in a decidedly irascible frame of mind. She did not know it, but Baldos was soon afterward set to work in the garrison stables, a most loathsome occupation, in addition to his duties as a guard by night.

After mature deliberation Beverly set herself to the task of writing home to her father. It was her supreme intention to convince him that she would be off for the States in an amazingly short time. The major, upon receiving the letter three weeks later, found nothing in it to warrant the belief that she was ever coming home. He did observe, however, that she had but little use for the army of Graustark, and was especially disappointed in the set of men Yetive retained as her private guard. For the life of her, Beverly could not have told why she disapproved of the guard in general or in particular, but she was conscious of the fact, after the letter was posted, that she had said many things that might have been left unwritten. Besides, it was not Baldos's fault that she could not sleep; it was distinctly her own. He had nothing to do with it.

"I'll bet father will be glad to hear that I am coming home," she said to Yetive, after the letter was gone.

"Oh, Beverly, dear, I hate to hear of your going," cried the princess." When did you tell him you'd start?"

"Why, oh,—er—let me see; when did I say? Dash me—as Mr. Anguish would say—I don't believe I gave a date. It seems to me I said soon, that's all."

"You don't know how relieved I am," exclaimed Yetive rapturously? and Beverly was in high dudgeon because of the implied reflection, "I believe you are in a tiff with Baldos," went on Yetive airily.

"Goodness! How foolish you can be at times, Yetive," was what Beverly gave back to her highness, the Princess of Graustark.

Late in the evening couriers came in from the Dawsbergen frontier with reports which created considerable excitement in castle and army circles. Prince Gabriel himself had been seen in the northern part of his domain, accompanied by a large detachment of picked soldiers. Lorry set out that very night for the frontier, happy in the belief that something worth while was about to occur. General Marlanx issued orders for the Edelweiss army corps to mass beyond the southern gates of the city the next morning. Commands were also sent to the outlying garrisons. There was to be a general movement of troops before the end of the week. Graustark was not to be caught napping.

Long after the departure of Lorry and Anguish, the princess sat on the balcony with Beverly and the Countess Dagmar. They did not talk much. The mission of these venturesome young American husbands was full of danger. Something in the air had told their wives that the first blows of war were to be struck before they looked again upon the men they loved.

"I think we have been betrayed by someone," said Dagmar, after an almost interminable silence. Her companion did not reply. "The couriers say that Gabriel knows where we are weakest at the front and that he knows our every movement. Yetive, there is a spy here, after all."

"And that spy has access to the very heart of our deliberations," added Beverly pointedly. "I say this in behalf of the man whom you evidently suspect, countess. He could not know these things."

"I do not say that he does know, Miss Calhoun, but it is not beyond reason that he may be the go-between, the means of transferring information from the main traitor to the messengers who await outside our walls."

"Oh, I don't believe it!" cried Beverly hotly.

"I wonder if these things would have happened if Baldos had never come to Edelweiss?" mused the princess. As though by common impulse, both of the Graustark women placed their arms about Beverly.

"It's because we have so much at stake, Beverly, dear," whispered Dagmar. "Forgive me if I have hurt you."

Of course, Beverly sobbed a little in the effort to convince them that she did not care whom they accused, if he proved to be the right man in the end. They left her alone on the balcony. For an hour after midnight she sat there and dreamed. Everyone was ready to turn against Baldos. Even she had been harsh toward him, for had she not seen him relegated to the most obnoxious of duties after promising him a far different life? And now what was he thinking of her? His descent from favor had followed upon the disclosures which made plain to each the identity of the other. No doubt he was attributing his degradation, in a sense, to the fact that she no longer relished his services, having seen a romantic little ideal shattered by his firm assertions. Of course, she knew that General Marlanx was alone instrumental in assigning him to the unpleasant duty he now observed, but how was Baldos to know that she was not the real power behind the Iron Count?

A light drizzle began to fall, cold and disagreeable. There were no stars, no moon. The ground below was black with shadows, but shimmering in spots touched by the feeble park lamps. She retreated through her window, determined to go to bed. Her rebellious brain, however, refused to banish him from her thoughts. She wondered if he were patroling the castle grounds In the rain, in all that lonely darkness. Seized by a sudden inspiration, she threw a gossamer about her, grasped an umbrella and ventured out upon the balcony once more. Guiltily she searched the night through the fine drizzling rain; her ears listened eagerly for the tread which was so well known to her.

At last he strode beneath a lamp not far away. He looked up, but, of course, could not see her against the dark wall. For a long time he stood motionless beneath the light. She could not help seeing that he was dejected, tired, unhappy. His shoulders drooped, and there as a general air of listlessness about the figure which had once been so full of courage and of hope. The post light fell directly upon his face. It was somber, despondent, strained. He wore the air of a prisoner. Her heart went out to him like a flash. The debonair knight of the black patch was no more; in his place there stood a sullen slave to discipline.

"Baldos!" she called softly, her voice penetrating the dripping air with the clearness of a bell. He must have been longing for the sound of it, for he started and looked eagerly in her direction. His tall form straightened as he passed his hand over his brow. It was but a voice from his dream, he thought. "Aren't you afraid you'll get wet?" asked the same low, sweet voice, with the suggestion of a laugh behind it. With long strides he crossed the pavement and stood almost directly beneath her.

"Your highness!" he exclaimed gently, joyously. "What are you doing out there?"

"Wondering, Baldos—wondering what you were thinking of as you stood under the lamp over there."

"I was thinking of your highness," he called up, softly.

"No, no!" she protested.

"I, too, was wondering—wondering what you were dreaming of as you slept, for you should be asleep at this hour, your highness, instead of standing out there in the rain."

"Baldos," she called down tremulously, "you don't like this work, do you?"

"It has nothing but darkness in it for me. I never see the light of your eyes. I never feel the—"

"Sh! You must not talk like that. It's not proper, and besides someone may be listening. The night has a thousand ears—or is it eyes? But listen: to-morrow you shall be restored to your old duties. You surely cannot believe that I had anything to do with the order which compels you to work at this unholy hour."

"I was afraid you were punishing me for my boldness. My heart has been sore—you never can know how sore. I was disgraced, dismissed, forgotten—"

"No, no—you were not! You must not say that. Go away now, Baldos. You will ride with me to-morrow," she cried nervously. "Please go to some place where you won't get dripping wet."

"You forget that I am on guard," he said with a laugh. "But you are a wise counsellor. Is the rain so pleasant to you?"

"I have an umbrella," she protested. "What are you doing?" she cried in alarm. He was coming hand over hand, up the trellis-work that enclosed the lower verandah.

"I am coming to a place where I won't get dripping wet," he called softly. There was a dangerous ring in his voice and she drew back in a panic.

"You must not!" she cried desperately. "This is madness! Go down, sir!"

"I am happy enough to fly, but cannot. So I do the next best thing—I climb to you." His arm was across the stone railing by this time and he was panting from the exertion, not two feet from where she crouched. "Just one minute of heaven before I go back to the shadow of earth. I am happy again. Marlanx told me you had dismissed me. I wonder what he holds in reserve for me. I knew he lied, but it is not until now that I rejoice. Come, you are to shield me from the rain."

"Oh, oh!" she gasped, overwhelmed by his daring passion. "I should die if anyone saw you here." Yet she spasmodically extended the umbrella so that it covered him and left her out in the drizzle.

"And so should I," responded he softly. "Listen to me. For hours and hours I have been longing for the dear old hills in which you found me. I wanted to crawl out of Edelweiss and lose myself forever in the rocks and crags. To-night when you saw me I was trying to say good-bye to you forever. I was trying to make up my mind to desert. I could not endure the new order of things. You had cast me off. My friends out there were eager to have me with them. In the city everyone is ready to call me a spy—even you, I thought. Life was black and drear. Now, my princess, it is as bright as heaven itself."

"You must not talk like this," she whispered helplessly. "You are making me sorry I called to you."

"I should have heard you if you had only whispered, my rain princess. I have no right to talk of love—I am a vagabond; but I have a heart, and it is a bold one. Perhaps I dream that I am here beside you—so near that I can touch your face—but it is the sweetest of dreams. But for it I should have left Edelweiss weeks ago. I shall never awaken from this dream; you cannot rob me of the joys of dreaming."

Under the spell of his passion she drew nearer to him as he clung strongly to the rail. The roses at her throat came so close that he could bury his face in them. Her hand touched his cheek, and he kissed its palm again and again, his wet lips stinging her blood to the tips of her toes.

"Go away, please," she implored faintly. "Don't you see that you must not stay here—now?"

"A rose, my princess,—one rose to kiss all through the long night," he whispered. She could feel his eyes burning into her heart. With trembling, hurried fingers she tore loose a rose. He could not seize it with his hands because of the position he held, and she laughed tantalizingly. Then she kissed it first and pressed it against his mouth. His lips and teeth closed over the stem and the rose was his.

"There are thorns," she whispered, ever so softly.

"They are the riches of the poor," he murmured with difficulty, but she understood.

"Now, go," she said, drawing resolutely away. An instant later his head disappeared below the rail. Peering over the side she saw his figure spring easily to the ground, and then came the rapid, steady tramp as he went away on his dreary patrol.

"I couldn't help it," she was whispering to herself between joy and shame.

Glancing instinctively out toward the solitary lamp she saw two men standing in its light. One of them was General Marlanx; the other she knew to be the spy that watched Baldos. Her heart sank like lead when she saw that the two were peering intently toward the balcony where she stood, and where Baldos had clung but a moment before.



CHAPTER XXII

A PROPOSAL

She shrank back with a great dread in her heart. Marlanx, of all men! Why was he in the park at this hour of the night? There could be but one answer, and the very thought of it almost suffocated her. He was drawing the net with his own hands, he was spying with his own eyes. For a full minute it seemed to her that her heart would stop beating. How long had he been standing there? What had he seen or heard? Involuntarily she peered over the rail for a glimpse of Baldos. He had gone out into the darkness, missing the men at the lamp-post either by choice or through pure good fortune. A throb of thankfulness assailed her heart. She was not thinking of her position, but of his.

Again she drew stealthily away from the rail, possessed of a ridiculous feeling that her form was as plain to the vision as if it were broad daylight. The tread of a man impelled her to glance below once more before fleeing to her room. Marlanx was coming toward the verandah. She fled swiftly, pausing at the window to lower the friendly but forgotten umbrella. From below came the sibilant hiss of a man seeking to attract her attention. Once more she stopped to listen. The "hist" was repeated, and then her own name was called softly but imperatively. It was beyond the power of woman to keep from laughing. It struck her as irresistibly funny that the Iron Count should be standing out there in the rain, signaling to her like a love-sick boy. Once she was inside, however, it did not seem so amusing. Still, it gave her an immense amount of satisfaction to slam the windows loudly, as if in pure defiance. Then she closed the blinds, shutting out the night completely.

Turning up the light at her dressing-table, she sat down in a state of sudden collapse. For a long time she stared at her face in the mirror. She saw the red of shame and embarrassment mount to her cheeks and then she covered her eyes with her hands.

"Oh, what a fool you've been," she half sobbed, shrinking from the mirror as if it were an accuser.

She prepared for bed with frantic haste. Just as she was about to scramble in and hide her face in the pillows, a shocking thought came to her. The next she was at the windows and the slats were closed with a rattle like a volley of firearms. Then she jumped into bed. She wondered if the windows were locked. Out she sprang again like a flash, and her little bare feet scurried across the room, first to the windows and then to the door.

"Now, I reckon I'm safe," she murmured a moment later, again getting into bed. "I love to go to sleep with the rain pattering outside like that. Oh, dear, I'm so sorry he has to walk all night In this rain. Poor fellow! I wonder where he is now. Goodness, it's raining cats and dogs!"

But in spite of the rain she could not go to sleep. Vague fears began to take possession of her. Something dreadful told her that Count Marlanx was on the balcony and at her window, notwithstanding the rain pour. The fear became oppressive, maddening. She felt the man's presence almost as strongly as if he were in plain view. He was there, she knew it.

The little revolver that had served her so valiantly at the Inn of the Hawk and Raven lay upon a stool near the bedside every night. Consumed by the fear that the window might open slowly at any moment, she reached forth and clutched the weapon. Then she shrank back in the bed, her eyes fixed upon the black space across the room. For hours she shivered and waited for the window to open, dozing away time and again only to come back to wakefulness with a start.

The next morning she confessed to herself that her fears had been silly. Her first act after breakfasting alone in her room was to seek out Colonel Quinnox, commander of the castle guard. In her mind she was greatly troubled over the fate of the bold visitor of the night before. There was a warm, red glow in her face and a quick beat in her heart as she crossed the parade-ground. Vagabond though he was, he had conquered where princes had failed. Her better judgment told her that she could be nothing to this debonair knight of the road, yet her heart stubbornly resisted all the arguments that her reason put forth.

Colonel Quinnox was pleasant, but he could give Beverly no promise of leniency in regard to Baldos. Instructions had come to him from General Marlanx, and he could not set them aside at will. Her plea that he might once more be assigned to old-time duties found the colonel regretfully obdurate. Baldos could not ride with her again until Marlanx withdrew the order which now obtained, Beverly swallowed her pride and resentment diplomatically, smiled her sweetest upon the distressed colonel, and marched defiantly back to the castle. Down in her rebellious, insulted heart she was concocting all sorts of plans for revenge. Chief among them was the terrible overthrow of the Iron Count. Her wide scope of vengeance even contemplated the destruction of Graustark if her end could be obtained in no other way.

Full of these bitter-sweet thoughts she came to the castle doors before she saw who was waiting for her upon the great verandah. As she mounted the steps, a preoccupied frown upon her fair brow, General Marlanx, lean, crafty and confident, advanced to greet her. The early hour was responsible for the bright solitude which marked the place. But few signs of life were in evidence about the castle.

She stopped with a sharp exclamation of surprise. Then scorn and indignation rushed in to fill the place of astonishment. She faced the smiling old man with anger in her eyes.

"Good morning," he said, extending his hand, which she did not see. She was wondering how much he had seen and heard at midnight.

"I thought the troops were massing this morning," she said coldly. "Don't you mass, too?"

"There is time enough for that, my dear. I came to have a talk with you—in private," he said meaningly.

"It is sufficiently private here, Count Marlanx. What have you to say to me?"

"I want to talk about last night. You were very reckless to do what you did."

"Oh, you were playing the spy, then?" she asked scornfully.

"An involuntary observer, believe me—and a jealous one. I had hoped to win the affections of an innocent girl. What I saw last night shocked me beyond expression."

"Well, you shouldn't have looked," she retorted, tossing her chin; and the red feather in her hat bobbed angrily.

"I am surprised that one as clever as you are could have carried on an amour so incautiously," he said blandly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I saw everything that occurred."

"Well, I'm not ashamed of it," obstinately. "Good-bye, Count Marlanx."

"One moment, please. I cannot let you off so easily. What right had you to take that man into your room, a place sacred in the palace of Graustark? Answer me, Miss Calhoun."

Beverly drew back in horror and bewilderment.

"Into my room?" she gasped.

"Let us waste no time in subterfuge. I saw him come from your window, and I saw all that passed between you in the balcony. Love's eyes are keen. What occurred in your chamber I can only—"

"Stop! How dare you say such a thing to me?" she fiercely cried. "You miserable coward! You know he was not in my room. Take it back—take back every word of that lie!" She was white with passion, cold with terror.

"Bah! This is childish. I am not the only one who saw him, my dear. He was in your room—you were in his arms. It's useless to deny it. And to think that I have spared him from death to have it come to this! You need not look so horrified. Your secret is safe with me. I come to make terms with you. My silence in exchange for your beauty. It's worth it to you. One word from me, you are disgraced and Baldos dies. Come, my fair lady, give me your promise, it's a good bargain for both."

Beverly was trembling like a leaf. This phase of his villainy had not occurred to her. She was like a bird trying to avoid the charmed eye of the serpent.

"Oh, you—you miserable wretch!" she cried, hoarse with anger and despair. "What a cur you are! You know you are not speaking the truth. How can you say such things to me? I have never wronged you—" She was almost in tears, impotent with shame and fear.

"It has been a pretty game of love for you and the excellent Baldos. You have deceived those who love you best and trust you most. What will the princess say when she hears of last night's merry escapade? What will she say when she learns who was hostess to a common guardsman at the midnight hour? It is no wonder that you look terrified. It is for you to say whether she is to know or not. You can bind me to silence. You have lost Baldos. Take me and all that I can give you in his stead, and the world never shall know the truth. You love him, I know, and there is but one way to save him. Say the word and he goes free to the hills; decline and his life is not worth a breath of air."

"And pretending to believe this of me, you still ask me to be your wife. What kind of a man are you?" she demanded, scarcely able to speak.

"My wife?" he said harshly. "Oh, no. You are not the wife of Baldos," he added significantly.

"Good God!" gasped Beverly, crushed by the brutality of it all. "I would sooner die. Would to heaven my father were here, he would shoot you as he would a dog! Oh, how I loathe you! Don't you try to stop me! I shall go to the princess myself. She shall know what manner of beast you are."

She was racing up the steps, flaming with anger and shame.

"Remember, I can prove what I have said. Beware what you do. I love you so much that I now ask you to become my wife. Think well over it. Your honor and his life! It rests with you," he cried eagerly, following her to the door.

"You disgusting old fool," she hissed, turning upon him as she pulled the big brass knocker on the door.

"I must have my answer to-night, or you know what will happen," he snarled, but he felt in his heart that he had lost through his eagerness.

She flew to Yetive's boudoir, consumed by rage and mortification. Between sobs and feminine maledictions she poured the whole story, in all its ugliness, into the ears of the princess.

"Now, Yetive, you have to stand by me in this," announced the narrator conclusively, her eyes beaming hopefully through her tears.

"I cannot prevent General Marlanx from preferring serious charges against Baldos, dear. I know he was not in your room last night. You did not have to tell me that, because I saw you both at the balcony rail." Beverly's face took on such a radiant look of rejoicing that Yetive was amply paid for the surprising and gratifying acknowledgment of a second period of eavesdropping. "You may depend upon me to protect you from Marlanx. He can make it very unpleasant for Baldos, but he shall pay dearly for this insult to you. He has gone too far."

"I don't think he has any proof against Baldos," said Beverly, thinking only of the guardsman.

"But it is so easy to manufacture evidence, my dear. The Iron Count has set his heart upon having you, and he is not the man to be turned aside easily."

"He seems to think he can get wives as easily as he gets rid of them, I observe. I was going back to Washington soon, Yetive, but I'll stay on now and see this thing to the end. He can't scare a Calhoun, no sir-ee. I'll telegraph for my brother Dan to come over here and punch his head to pieces."

"Now, now,—don't be so high and mighty, dear. Let us see how rational we can be," said the Princess gently. Whereupon the hot-headed girl from Dixie suspended hostilities and became a very demure young woman. Before long she was confessing timidly, then boldly, that she loved Baldos better than anything in all the world.

"I can't help it, Yetive. I know I oughtn't to, but what is there to do when one can't help it? There would be an awful row at home if I married him. Of course, he hasn't asked me. Maybe he won't. In fact, I'm sure he won't. I shan't give him a chance. But if he does ask me I'll just keep putting him off. I've done it before, you know. You see, for a long, long time, I fancied he might be a prince, but he isn't at all. I've had his word for it. He's just an ordinary person—like—like—well, like I am. Only he doesn't look so ordinary. Isn't he handsome, Yetive? And, dear me, he is so impulsive! If he had asked me to jump over the balcony rail with him last night, I believe I would have done it. Wouldn't that have surprised old Marlanx?" Beverly gave a merry laugh. The troubles of the morning seemed to fade away under the warmth of her humor. Yetive sat back and marvelled at the manner in which this blithe young American cast out the "blue devils."

"You must not do anything foolish, Beverly," she cautioned, "Your parents would never forgive me if I allowed you to marry or even to fall in love with any Tom, Dick or Harry over here. Baldos may be the gallant, honest gentleman we believe him to be, but he also may be the worst of adventurers. One can never tell, dear. I wish now that I had not humored you in your plan to bring him to the castle. I'm afraid I have done wrong. You have seen too much of him and—oh, well, you will be sensible, won't you, dear?" There was real concern in the face of the princess. Beverly kissed her rapturously.

"Don't worry about me, Yetive. I know how to take care of myself. Worry about your old Gabriel, if you like, but don't bother your head about me," she cried airily. "Now let's talk about the war. Marlanx won't do anything until he hears from me. What's the use worrying?"

Nightfall brought General Marlanx in from the camps outside the gates. He came direct to the castle and boldly sent word to Beverly that he must speak to her at once. She promptly answered that she did not want to see him and would not. Without a moment's hesitation he appealed for an audience with the princess, and it was granted.

He proceeded, with irate coolness, to ask how far she believed herself bound to protect the person of Baldos, the guard. He understood that she was under certain obligations to Miss Calhoun and he wanted to be perfectly sure of his position before taking a step which now seemed imperative. Baldos was a spy in the employ of Dawsbergen. He had sufficient proof to warrant his arrest and execution; there were documents, and there was positive knowledge that he had conferred with strangers from time to time, even within the walls of the castle grounds. Marlanx cited instances in which Baldos had been seen talking to a strange old man inside the grounds, and professed to have proof that he had gone so far as to steal away by night to meet men beyond the city walls. He was now ready to seize the guard, but would not do so until he had conferred with his sovereign.

"Miss Calhoun tells me that you have made certain proposals to her, Count Marlanx," said Yetive coldly, her eyes upon his hawkish face.

"I have asked her to be my wife, your highness."

"You have threatened her, Count Marlanx."

"She has exposed herself to you? I would not have told what I saw last night."

"Would it interest you to know that I saw everything that passed on the balcony last night? You will allow me to say, general, that you have behaved in a most outrageous manner in approaching my guest with such foul proposals. Stop, sir! She has told me everything and I believe her. I believe my own eyes. There is no need to discuss the matter further. You have lost the right to be called a man. For the present I have only to say that you shall be relieved of the command of my army. The man who makes war on women is not fit to serve one. As for Baldos, you are at liberty to prefer the charges. He shall have a fair trial, rest assured."

"Your highness, hear me," implored Marlanx, white to the roots of his hair.

"I will hear what you have to say when my husband is at my side."

"I can but stand condemned, then, your highness, without a hearing. My vindication will come, however. With your permission, I retire to contrive the arrest of this spy. You may depose me, but you cannot ask me to neglect my duty to Graustark. I have tried to save him for Miss Calhoun's sake—" But her hand was pointing to the door.

Ten minutes later Beverly was hearing everything from the lips of the princess, and Marlanx was cursing his way toward the barracks, vengeance in his heart. But a swift messenger from the castle reached the guard-room ahead of him. Colonel Quinnox was reading an official note from the princess when Marlanx strode angrily into the room.

"Bring this fellow Baldos to me, Colonel Quinnox," he said, without greeting.

"I regret to say that I have but this instant received a message from her highness, commanding me to send him to the castle," said Quinnox, with a smile.