"You are to die at sunset. Graustark still knows how to punish assassins. She will make an example of you to-day that all creatures of your kind, the world over, will not be likely to forget in a century to come. There is no room in Graustark for anarchy. I shall wipe it out to-day."

"Sir, your promise!" gasped William Spantz. "We are your friends—the true Party of—"

"Enough! Do not speak again! Captain Brutus, you will send criers abroad to notify the citizens that I, Count Marlanx, have ordered the execution of the ringleaders in the plot to dynamite the Prince. At sunset, in the square. Away with the carrion!"

Then it was, and not till then, that the Committee of Ten found him out! Then it was that they came to know Peter Brutus! What were their thoughts, we dare not tell: their shrieks and curses were spent against inpenetrable floors and walls. Baron Dangloss heard, and, in time, understood. Even he shrank back and shuddered.

It has been said that Marlanx was a soldier. There is one duty that the soldier in command never neglects: the duty to those who fell while fighting bravely for or against him. Sunday afternoon a force of men was set to work burying the dead and clearing the pavements. Those of his own nondescript army who gave up their lives on the 26th were buried in the public cemeteries. The soldiers of the Crown, as well as the military police, were laid to rest in the national cemetery, with honours befitting their rank. Each grave was carefully marked and a record preserved. In this way Marlanx hoped to obtain his first footing in the confidence and esteem of the citizens. The unrecognisable corpse of Olga Platanova was buried in quicklime outside the city walls. There was something distinctly gruesome in the fact that half a dozen deep graves were dug alongside hers, hours before death came to the wretches who were to occupy them.

At three o'clock the Iron Count coolly sent messengers to the homes of the leading merchants and bankers of the city. They, with the priests, the doctors, the municipal officers and the manufacturers were commanded to appear before him at five o'clock for the purpose of discussing the welfare of the city and its people. Hating, yet fearing him, they came; not one but felt in his heart that the old man was undisputed ruler of their destinies. Hours of horror and despair, a night and a day of bitter reflection, had brought the trembling populace to the point of seeing clearly the whole miserable situation. The reserves were powerless; the Royal Guard was besieged and greatly outnumbered; the fortress was lost. There was nothing for them to do but temporise. Time alone could open the way to salvation.

Marlanx stated his position clearly. He left no room for doubt in their minds. The strings were in his hands: he had but to pull them. The desire of his life was about to be attained. Without hesitation he informed the leading men of the city that he was to be the Prince of Graustark.

"I have the city," he said calmly. "The farms and villages will fall in line. I do not worry over them. In a very short time I shall have the Castle. The question for you to decide for yourselves is this: will you be content to remain here as thrifty, peaceable citizens, protecting your fortunes and being protected by a man and not by a child. If not, please say so. The alternative is in the hands of the Crown. I am the Crown. The Crown may at any time confiscate property and banish malcontents and disturbers. A word to the wise, gentlemen. Inside of a week we will have a new government. You will not suffer under its administration. I should be indeed a fool to destroy the credit or injure the integrity of my own dominion. But, let me say this, gentlemen," he went on after a pause, in which his suavity gave way to harshness; "you may as well understand at the outset that I expect to rule here. I will rule Graustark or destroy her."

The more courageous in his audience began to protest against the high-handed manner in which he proposed to treat them. Not a few declared that they would never recognise him as a prince of the realm. He waited, as a spider waits, until he thought they had gone far enough. Then he held up his hand and commanded silence.

"Those of you who do not expect or desire to live under my rule—which, I promise you, shall be a wise one,—may leave the city for other lands just as soon as my deputies have completed the formal transfer of all your belongings to the Crown treasury—all, I say, even to the minutest trifle. Permit me to add, in that connection, gentlemen: the transfer will not be a prolonged affair."

They glared back at him and subsided into bitter silence.

"I am well aware that you love little Prince Robin. Ha! You may not cheer here, gentlemen, under penalty of my displeasure. It is quite right that you should, as loyal subjects, love your Prince, whoever he may be. I shall certainly expect it. Now, respecting young master Robin: I have no great desire to kill him."

He waited to see the effect of this brutal announcement. His hearers stiffened and—yes, they held their breath.

"He has one alternative—he and his lords. I trust that you, as sensible gentlemen, will find the means to convey to him your advice that he seize the opportunity I shall offer him to escape with his life. No one really wants to see the little chap die. Let me interrupt myself to call to your attention the fact that I am punishing the anarchists at sunset. This to convince you that assassination will not be tolerated in Graustark. To resume: the boy may return to America, where he belongs. He is more of an American than one of us. I will give him free and safe escort to the United States. Certain of his friends may accompany him; others whom I shall designate will be required to remain here until I have disposed of their cases as I see fit. These conditions I shall set forth in my manifesto to the present occupant of the Castle. If he chooses to accept my kindly terms, all well and good. If not, gentlemen, I shall starve him out or blow the Castle down about his smart little ears. You shudder! Well, I can't blame you. I shudder myself sometimes when I think of it. There will be a great deal of royal blood, you know. Ah, that reminds me: It may interest you to hear that I expect to establish a new nobility in Graustark. The present house of lords is objectionable to me. I trust I may now be addressing at least a few of the future noble lords of Graustark. Good day, gentlemen. That is all for the present. Kindly inform me if any of my soldiers or followers overstep the bounds of prudence. Rapine and ribaldry will not be tolerated."

The dignitaries and great men of the city went away, dazed and depressed, looking at each other from bloodshot eyes. Not one friend had Marlanx in that group, and he knew it well. He did not expect them to submit at once or even remotely. They might have smiled, whereas they frowned, if they could have seen him pacing the floor of his office, the moment the doors closed behind their backs, clenching his hands and cursing furiously.

At the Castle the deepest gloom prevailed. It was like a nightmare to the beleaguered household, a dream from which there seemed to be no awakening. Colonel Quinnox's first act after posting his forces in position to repel attacks from the now well-recognised enemy, was to make sure of the safety of his royal master. Inside the walls of the Castle grounds he, as commander of the Royal Guard, ruled supreme. General Braze tore off his own epaulets and presented himself to Quinnox as a soldier of the file; lords and dukes, pages and ministers, followed the example of the head of the War Department. No one stood on the dignity of his position; no one does, as a rule, with the executioner staring him in the face. Every man took up arms for the defence of the Castle, its Prince and its lovely women.

Prince Robin, quite recovered from his fright, donned the uniform of a Colonel of the Royal Dragoons, buckled on his jewelled sword, and, with boyish zeal, demanded Colonel Quinnox's reasons for not going forth to slay the rioters.

"What is the army for, Colonel Quinnox?" he asked with impatient wonder.

It was late in the afternoon and the Prince was seated in the chair of state, presiding over the hurriedly called Council meeting. Notably absent were Baron Dangloss and the Duke of Perse. Chief officers of the Guard and the commissioned men of the army were present—that is, all of them who had not gone down under the treacherous fire.

"Your Highness," said the Colonel bitterly, "the real army is outside the walls, not inside. We are a pitiful handful-less than three hundred men, all told, counting the wounded. Count Marlanx heads an army of several thousand. He—"

"He wants to get in here so's he can kill me? Is that so, Colonel Quinnox?" The Prince was very pale, but quite calm.

"Oh, I wouldn't put it just that way, your—"

"Oh, I know. You can't fool me. I've always known that he wants to kill me. But how can he? That's the question; how can he when I've got the Royal Guard to keep him from doing it? He can't whip the Royal Guard. Nobody can. He ought to know that. He must be awful stupid."

His perfect, unwavering faith in the Guard was the same that had grown up with every prince of Graustark and would not be gainsaid. A score of hearts swelled with righteous pride and as many scabbards rattled as heels clicked and hands went up in salute.

"Your Highness," said Quinnox, with a glance at his fellow-officers, "you may rely upon it, Count Marlanx will never reach you until he has slain every man in the Royal Guard."

"And in the army—our poor little army," added General Braze.

"Thank you," said the Prince. "You needn't have told me. I knew it." He leaned back in the big chair, almost slipping from the record books on which he sat, a brave scowl on his face. "Gee, I wish he'd attack us right now," he said, with ingenuous bravado.

The council of war was not a lengthy one. The storm that had arisen out of a perfectly clear sky was briefly discussed in all its phases. No man there but realised the seriousness of the situation. Count Halfont, who seemed ten years older than when we last saw him, addressed the Cabinet.

"John Tullis is still outside the city walls. If he does not fall into a trap through ignorance of the city's plight, I firmly believe he will be able to organise an army of relief among the peasants and villagers. They are loyal. The mountaineers and shepherds, wild fellows all, and the ones who have fallen into the spider's net. Count Marlanx has an army of aliens; they are not even revolutionists. John Tullis, if given the opportunity, can sweep the city clear of them. My only fear is that he may be tricked into ambush before we can reach him. No doubt Marlanx, in devising a way to get him out of the city, also thought of the means to keep him out."

"We must get word to Tullis," cried several in a breath. A dozen men volunteered to risk their lives in the attempt to find the American in the hills. Two men were chosen—by lot. They were to venture forth that very night.

"My lords," said the Prince, as the Council was on the point of dissolving, "is it all right for me to ask a question now?"

"Certainly, Robin," said the Prime Minister.

"Well, I'd like to know where Mr. King is."

"He's safe, your Highness," said Quinnox.

"Aunt Loraine is worried, that's all. She's sick, you see—awful sick. Do you think Mr. King would be good enough to walk by her window, so's she can see for herself? She's in the royal bedchamber."

"The royal bedchamber?" gasped the high chamberlain.

"I gave up my bed right off, but she won't stay in it. She sits in the window most of the time. It's all right about the bed. I spoke to nurse about it. Besides, I don't want to go to bed while there's any fighting going on. So, you see, it's all right. Say, Uncle Caspar, may I take a crack at old Marlanx with my new rifle if I get a chance? I've been practising on the target range, and Uncle Jack says I'm a reg'lar Buffalo Bill."

Count Halfont unceremoniously hugged his wriggling grand-nephew. A cheer went up from the others.

"Long live Prince Robin!" shouted Count Vos Engo.

Prince Robin looked abashed. "I don't think I could hit him," he said with becoming modesty. They laughed aloud. "But, say, don't forget about Mr. King. Tell him I want him to parade most of the time in front of my windows."

"He has a weak ankle," began Colonel Quinnox lamely.

"Very difficult for him to walk," said Vos Engo, biting his lips.

The Prince looked from face to face, suspicion in his eyes. It dawned on him that they were evading the point. A stubborn line appeared between his brows.

"Then I command you, Colonel Quinnox, to give him the best horse in the stables. I want him to ride."

"It shall be as you command, your Highness."

A few minutes later, his grand-uncle, the Prime Minister, was carrying him down the corridor; Prince Robin was perched upon the old man's shoulder, and was a thoughtful mood.

"Say, Uncle Caspar, Mr. King's all right, isn't he?"

"He is a very brave and noble gentleman, Bobby. We owe to his valour the life of the best boy in all the world."

"Yes, and Aunt Loraine owes him a lot, too. She says so. She's been crying, Uncle Caspar. Say, has she just got to marry Count Vos Engo?"

"My boy, what put that question into your mind?"

"She says she has to. I thought only princes and princesses had to marry people they don't want to."

"You should not believe all that you hear."

Bobby was silent for twenty steps. Then he said: "Well, I think she'll make an awful mistake if she lets Mr. King get away."

"My boy, we have other affairs to trouble us at present without taking up the affairs of Miss Tullis."

"Well, he saved her life, just like they do in story books," protested the Prince.

"Well, you run in and tell her this minute that Mr. King sends his love to her and begs her to rest easy. See if it doesn't cheer her up a bit."

"Maybe she's worried about Uncle Jack. I never thought about that," he faltered.

"Uncle Jack will come out on top, never fear," cried the old man.

Half an hour later, Truxton King, shaven and shorn, outfitted and polished, received orders to ride for twenty minutes back and forth across the Plaza. He came down from Colonel Quinnox's rooms in the officer's row, considerably mystified, and mounted the handsome bay that he had brought through the gates. Haddan, of the Guard, rode with him to the Plaza, but could offer no explanation for the curious command.

Five times the now resentful American walked his horse across the Plaza, directly in front of the terrace and the great balconies. About him paced guardsmen, armed and alert; on the outer edge of the parade ground a company of soldiers were hurrying through the act of changing the Guard; in the lower balcony excited men and women were walking back and forth, paying not the least attention to him. Above him frowned the grey, lofty walls of the Castle. No one was in view on the upper balcony, beyond which he had no doubt lay the royal chambers. He had the mean, uncomfortable feeling that people were peering at him from remote windows.

Suddenly a small figure in bright red and gold and waving a tiny sword appeared at the rail of the broad upper gallery. Truxton blinked his eyes once or, twice and then doffed his hat. The Prince was smiling eagerly.

"Hello!" he called. Truxton drew rein directly below him.

"I trust your Highness has recovered from the shock of to-day," he responded. "I have been terribly anxious. Are you quite well?"

"Quite well, thank you." He hesitated for a moment, as if in doubt. Then: "Say, Mr. King, how's your leg?"

Truxton looked around in sudden embarrassment. A number of distressed, white-faced ladies had paused in the lower gallery and were staring at him in mingled curiosity and alarm. He instantly wondered if Colonel Quinnox's riding clothes were as good a fit as he had been led to believe through Hobbs and others.

"It's—it's fine, thank you," he called up, trying to subdue his voice as much as possible.

Bobby looked a trifle uncertain. His glance wavered and a queer little wrinkle appeared between his eyes. He lowered his voice when he next spoke.

"Say, would you mind shouting that a little louder," he called down, leaning well over the rail.

Truxton flushed. He was pretty sure that the Prince was not deaf. There was no way out of it, however, so he repeated his communication.

"It's all right, your Highness."

Bobby gave a quick glance over his shoulder at one of the broad windows. Truxton distinctly saw the blinds close with a convulsive jerk.

"Thanks! Much obliged! Good-bye!" sang out the Prince, gleefully. He waved his hand and then hopped off the chair on which he was standing. Truxton heard his little heels clatter across the stone balcony. For a moment he was nonplused.

"Well, I'm—By Jove! I understand!" He rode off toward the barracks, his head swimming with joy, his heart jumping like mad. At the edge of the parade ground he turned in his saddle and audaciously lifted his hat to the girl who, to his certain knowledge, was standing behind the tell-tale blind.

"Cheer up, Hobbs!" he sang out in his new-found exuberance as he rode up to the dismal Englishman, who moped in the shade of the stable walls. "Don't be down-hearted. Look at me! Never say die, that's my motto."

"That's all very well, sir," said Hobbs, removing the unlighted pipe from his lips, "but you 'aven't got a dog and a parrot locked up in your rooms with no one to feed them. It makes me sick, 'pon my soul, sir, to think of them dying of thirst and all that, and me here safe and sound, so to speak."

That night Haddan and a fellow-subaltern attempted to leave the Castle grounds by way of the private gate in the western wall, only to be driven back by careful watchers on the outside. A second attempt was made at two o'clock. This time they went through the crypt into the secret underground passage. As they crawled forth into the blackest of nights, clear of the walls, they were met by a perfect fusillade of rifle shots. Haddan's companion was shot through the leg and arm and it was with extreme difficulty that the pair succeeded in regaining the passage and closing the door. No other attempt was made that night. Sunday night a quick sortie was made, it being the hope of the besieged that two selected men might elude Marlanx's watch-dogs during the melee that followed. Curiously enough, the only men killed were the two who had been chosen to run the gauntlet in the gallant, but ill-timed attempt to reach John Tullis.

On Monday morning the first direct word from Count Marlanx came to the Castle. Under a flag of truce, two of his men were admitted to the grounds. They presented the infamous ultimatum of the Iron Count. In brief, it announced the establishment of a dictatorship pending the formal assumption of the crown by the conqueror. With scant courtesy the Iron Count begged to inform Prince Robin that his rule was at an end. Surrender would result in his safe conduct to America, the home of his father; defiance would just so surely end in death for him and all of his friends. The Prince was given twenty-four hours in which to surrender his person to the new governor of the city. With the expiration of the time limit mentioned, the Castle would be shelled from the fortress, greatly as the dictator might regret the destruction of the historic and well-beloved structure. No one would be spared if it became necessary to bombard; the rejection of his offer of mercy would be taken as a sign that the defenders were ready to die for a lost cause. He would cheerfully see to it that they died as quickly as possible, in order that the course of government might not be obstructed any longer than necessary.

The defenders of the Castle tore his message in two and sent it back to him without disfiguring it by a single word in reply. The scornful laughter which greeted the reading of the document by Count Halfont did not lose any of its force in the report that the truce-bearers carried, with considerable uneasiness, to the Iron Count later on.

No one in the Castle was deceived by Marlanx's promise to provide safe conduct for the Prince. They knew that the boy was doomed if he fell into the hands of this iniquitous old schemer. More than that, there was not a heart among them so faint that it was not confident of eventual victory over the usurper. They could hold out for weeks against starvation. Hope is an able provider.

A single, distant volley at sunset had puzzled the men on guard at the Castle. They had no means of knowing that the Committee of Ten and its wretched friends had been shot down like dogs in the Public Square. Peter Brutus was in charge of the squad of executioners.

Soon after the return of Marlanx's messengers to the Tower, a number of carriages were observed approaching in Castle Avenue. They were halted a couple of hundred yards from the gates and once more a flag of truce was presented. There was a single line from Marlanx:

"I am sending indisputable witnesses to bear testimony to the thoroughness of my conquest.

"MARLANX."

Investigation convinced the captain of the Guard that the motley caravan in the avenue was made up of loyal, representative citizens from the important villages of the realm. They were admitted to the grounds without question.

The Countess Prandeville of Ganlook, terribly agitated, was one of the first to enter the haven of safety, such as it was. After her came the mayors and the magistrates of a dozen villages. Count Marlanx's reason for delivering these people over to their friends in the Castle was at once manifest.

By the words of their mouths his almost complete mastery of the situation was conveyed to the Prince's defenders. In every instance the representative from a village sorrowfully admitted that Marlanx's men were in control. Ganlook, an ancient stronghold, had been taken without a struggle by a handful of men. The Countess's husband was even now confined in his own castle under guard.

The news was staggering. Count Halfont had based his strongest hopes on the assistance that would naturally come from the villages. Moreover, the strangely commissioned emissaries cast additional gloom over the situation by the report that mountaineers, herdsmen and woodchoppers in the north were flocking to the assistance of the Iron Count, followed by hordes of outlaws from the Axphain hills. They were swarming into the city. These men had always been thorns in the sides of the Crown's peace-makers.

"It is worse than I thought," said Count Halfont, after listening to the words of the excited magistrates. "Are there no loyal men outside these walls?"

"Thousands, sir, but they are not organised. They have no leader, and but little with which to fight against such a force."

"It is hard to realise that a force of three or four thousand desperadoes has the power to defy an entire kingdom. A city of 75,000 people in the hands of hirelings! The shame of it!"

Truxton King was leaning against a column not far from the little group, nervously pulling away at the pipe Quinnox had given him. As if impelled by a common thought, a half dozen pairs of eyes were turned in his direction. Their owners looked as quickly away, again moved by a common thought.

The Minister of Mines gave utterance to a single sentence that might well have been called the epitome of that shrewd, concentrated thought:

"There must be some one who can get to John Tullis before it is too late."

They looked at one another and then once more at the American who had come among them, avowedly in quest of adventure.



CHAPTER XIX

TRUXTON EXACTS A PROMISE

Truxton King had been in a resentful frame of mind for nearly forty-eight hours. In the first place, he had not had so much as a single glimpse of the girl he now worshipped with all his heart. In the second place, he had learned, with unpleasant promptness, that Count Vos Engo was the officer in command of the House Guard, a position as gravely responsible as it was honourable. The cordon about the Castle was so tightly drawn in these perilous hours that even members of the household were subjected to examination on leaving or entering.

Truxton naturally did not expect to invade the Castle in search of the crumb of comfort he so ardently desired; he did not, however, dream that Vos Engo would deny him the privilege of staring at a certain window from a rather prim retreat in a far corner of the Plaza.

He had, of course, proffered his services to Colonel Quinnox. The Colonel, who admired the Americans, gravely informed him that there was no regular duty to which he could be assigned, but that he would expect him to hold himself ready for any emergency. In case of an assault, he was to report to Count Vos Engo.

"We will need our bravest men at the Castle," he had said. Truxton glowed under the compliment. "In the meantime, Mr. King, regain your strength in the park. You show the effect of imprisonment. Your adventures have been most interesting, but I fancy they invite rest for the present."

It was natural that this new American should become an object of tremendous interest to every one in and about the Castle. The story of his mishaps and his prowess was on every lip; his timely appearance in Regengetz Circus was regarded in the light of divine intervention, although no one questioned the perfectly human pluck that brought it about. Noble ladies smiled upon him in the park, to which they now repaired with timorous hearts; counts and barons slapped him on the back and doughty guardsmen actually saluted him with admiration in their eyes.

But he was not satisfied. Loraine had not come forward with a word of greeting or relief; in fact, she had not appeared outside the Castle doors. Strangely enough, with the entire park at his disposal, he chose to frequent those avenues nearest the great balconies. More than once he visited the grotto where he had first seen her; but it was not the same. The occasional crack of a rifle on the walls no longer fired him with the interest he had felt in the beginning. Forty-eight hours had passed and she still held aloof. What could it mean? Was she ill? Had she collapsed after the frightful strain?

Worse than anything else: was she devoting all of her time to Count Vos Engo?

Toward dusk on Monday, long after the arrival of the refugees, he sat in gloomy contemplation of his own unhappiness, darkly glowering upon the unfriendly portals from a distant stone bench.

A brisk guardsman separated himself from the knot of men at the Castle doors and crossed the Plaza toward him.

"Aha," thought Truxton warmly, "at last she is sending a message to me. Perhaps she's—no, she couldn't be sending for me to come to her."

Judge his dismay and anger when the soldier, a bit shamefaced himself, briefly announced that Count Vos Engo had issued an order against loitering in close proximity to the Castle. Mr. King was inside the limit described in the order. Would he kindly retire to a more distant spot, etc.

Truxton's cheek burned. He saw in an instant that the order was meant for him and for no one else—he being the only outsider likely to come under the head of "loiterer." A sharp glance revealed the fact that not only were the officers watching the little scene, but others in the balcony were looking on.

Resisting the impulse to argue the point, he hastily lifted his hat to the spectators and turned into the avenue without a word.

"I am sorry, sir," mentioned the guardsman earnestly.

Truxton turned to him with a frank smile, meant for the group at the steps. "Please tell Count Vos Engo that I am the last person in the world to disregard discipline at a time like this."

His glance again swept the balcony, suddenly becoming fixed on a couple near the third column. Count Vos Engo and Loraine Tullis were standing there together, unmistakably watching his humiliating departure. To say that Truxton swore softly as he hurried off through the trees would be unnecessarily charitable.

The next morning he encountered Vos Engo near the grotto. Two unsuccessful attempts to leave the Castle grounds had been made during the night. Truxton had aired his opinion to Mr. Hobbs after breakfast.

"I'll bet my head I could get away with it," he had said, doubly scornful because of a sleepless night. "They go about it like a lot of chumps. No wonder they are chased back."

Catching sight of Vos Engo, he hastened across the avenue and caught up to him. The Count was apparently deep in thought.

"Good morning," said Truxton from behind. The other whirled quickly. He did not smile as he eyed the tall American. "I haven't had a chance to thank you for coming back for me last Saturday. Allow me to say that it was a very brave thing to do. If I appeared ungrateful at the time, I'm sure you understood my motives."

"The whole matter is of no consequence, Mr. King," said the other quietly.

"Nevertheless, I consider it my duty to thank you. I want to get it out of my system. Having purged myself of all that, I now want to tell you of a discovery that I made last evening."

"I am not at all interested."

"You will be when I have told you, however, because it concerns you."

"I do not like your words, Mr. King, nor the way in which you glare at me."

"I'm making it easier to tell you the agreeable news, Count Vos Engo; that's all. You'll be delighted to hear that I thought of you nearly all night and still feel that I have not been able to do you full justice."

"Indeed?" with a distinct uplifting of the eyebrows.

"Take your hand off your sword, please. Some other time, perhaps, but not in these days when we need men, not cripples. I'll tell you what I have discovered and then we'll drop the matter until some other time. We can afford a physical delay, but it would be heartless to keep you in mental suspense. Frankly, Count, I have made the gratifying discovery that you are a damned cur."

Count Vos Engo went very white. He drew his dapper figure up to its full height, swelled his Robin Redbreast coat to the bursting point, and allowed his right hand to fly to his sword. Then, as suddenly, he folded his arms and glared at Truxton.

"As you say, there is another and a better time. We need dogs as well as men in these days."

"I hope you won't forget that I thanked you for coming back last Saturday."

The Count turned and walked rapidly away.

Truxton leaned against the low wall alongside the Allee. "I don't know that I've helped matters any," he said to himself ruefully. "He'll not let me get within half a mile of the Castle after this. If she doesn't come out for a stroll in the park, I fancy I'll never see her—Heigho! I wish something would happen! Why doesn't Marlanx begin bombarding? It's getting devilish monotonous here."

He strolled off to the stables, picking up Mr. Hobbs on the way.

"Hobbs," he said, "we've got to find John Tullis, that's all there is to it." He was scowling fiercely at a most inoffensive lawn-mower in the grass at the left.

"I daresay, sir," said Mr. Hobbs with sprightly decisiveness. "He's very much needed."

"I'm going to need him before long as my second."

"Your second, sir? Are you going to fight a duel?"

"I suppose so," lugubriously. "It's too much to expect him to meet me with bare fists. Oh, Hobbs, I wish we could arrange it for bare knucks!" He delivered a mighty swing at an invisible adversary. Hobbs's hat fell off with the backward jerk of surprise.

"Oh, my word!" he exclaimed admiringly, "wot a punch you've got!"

Later on, much of his good humour was restored and his vanity pleased by a polite request from Count Halfont to attend an important council in the "Room of Wrangles" that evening at nine.

Very boldly he advanced upon the Castle a few minutes before the appointed hour. He went alone, that he might show a certain contempt for Count Vos Engo. Notwithstanding the fact that he started early enough for the Chamber, he was distressingly late for the meeting.

He came upon Loraine Tullis at the edge of the Terrace. She was walking slowly in the soft shadows beyond the row of lights on the lower gallery. King would have passed her without recognition, so dim was the light in this enchanted spot, had not his ear caught the sound of a whispered exclamation. At the same time the girl stopped abruptly in the darkest shadow. He knew her at a glance, this slim girl in spotless white.

"Loraine!" he whispered, reaching her side in two bounds. She put out her hands and he clasped them. A quick, hysterical little laugh came from her lips. Plainly, she was confused. "I've been dying for a glimpse of you. Do you think you've treated me—"

"Don't, Truxton," she pleaded, suddenly serious. She sent a swift glance toward the balconies. "You must not come here. I saw—well, you know. I was so ashamed. I was so sorry."

He still held her hands. His heart was throbbing furiously.

"Yes, they ordered me to move on, as if I were a common loafer," he said, with a soft chuckle. "I'm used to it, however. They ran me out of Meshed for taking snapshots; they banished me from Damascus, and they all but kicked me out of Jerusalem—I won't say why. But where have you kept yourself? Why have you avoided me? After getting the Prince to parade me in front of your windows, too. It's dirt mean, Loraine."

"I have been ill, Truxton—truly, I have," she said quickly, uneasily.

"See here, what's wrong? You are in trouble. I can tell by your manner. Tell me—trust me."

"I am worried so dreadfully about John," she faltered.

"That isn't all," he declared. "There's something else. What promise did you make to Vos Engo last Saturday after—well, if you choose to recall it—after I brought you back to him—what did you promise him?"

"Don't be cruel, Truxton," she pleaded. "I cannot forget all you have done for me."

"You told Vos Engo to ride back and pick me up," he persisted. "He told me in so many words. Now, I want a plain answer, Loraine. Did you promise to reward him if he—well, if he saved me from the mob?"

She was breathlessly silent for a moment. "No," she said, in a low voice.

"What was it, then? I must know, Loraine." He was bending over her, imperiously.

"I am very—oh, so very unhappy, Truxton," she murmured. He was on the point of clasping her in his arms and kissing her. But he thought better of it.

"I came near spoiling everything just now," he whispered hoarsely.

"What?"

"I almost kissed you, Loraine,—I swear it was hard to keep from it. That would have spoiled everything."

"Yes, it would," she agreed quickly.

"I'm not going to kiss you until you have told me you love Vos Engo."

"I—I don't understand," she cried, drawing back and looking up into his face with bewildered eyes.

"Because then I'll be sure that you love me."

"Be sensible, Truxton."

"I'll know that you promised to love him if he'd save me. It's as clear as day to me. You did tell him you'd marry him if he got me to a place of safety."

"No. I refused to marry him if he did not save you. Oh, Truxton, I am so miserable. What is to become of all of us? What is to become of John, and Bobby—and you?"

"I—I think I'll kiss you now, Loraine," he whispered almost tremulously. "God, how I love you, little darling!"

"Don't!" she whispered, resolutely pushing him away after a sweet second of indecision. "I cannot—I cannot, Truxton dear. Don't ask me to—to do that. Not now, please—not now!"

He stiffened; his hands dropped to his sides, but there was joy in his voice.

"I can wait," he said gently. "It's only a matter of a few days; and I—I won't make it any harder for you just now. I think I understand. You've—you've sort of pledged yourself to that—to him, and you don't think it fair to—well, to any of us. I'm including you, you see. I know you don't love him, and I know that you're going to love me, even if you don't at this very instant. I'm not a very stupid person, after all. I can see through things. I saw through it all when he came back for me. That's why I jumped from his horse and took my chances elsewhere. He did a plucky thing, Loraine, but I—I couldn't let it go as he intended it to be. Confound him, I would have died a thousand times over rather than have you sacrifice yourself in that way. It was splendid of you, darling, but—but very foolish. You've got yourself into a dreadful mess over it. I've got to rescue you all over again. This time, thank the Lord, from a Castle."

She could not help smiling. His joyousness would not be denied.

"How splendid you are!" she said, her voice thrilling with a tone that could not be mistaken.

He put his hands upon her shoulders and looked down into the beautiful, upturned face, a genuinely serious note creeping into his voice when he spoke again.

"Don't misconstrue my light-heartedness, dearest. It's a habit with me, not a fault. I see the serious side to your affair—as you view it. You have promised to marry Vos Engo. You'll have to break that promise. He didn't save me. Colonel Quinnox would have accomplished it, in any event. He can't hold you to such a silly pledge. You—you haven't by any chance told him that you love him?" He asked this in sudden anxiety.

"Really, Truxton, I cannot discuss—"

"No, I'm quite sure you haven't," he announced contentedly. "You couldn't have done that, I know. Now, I want you to make me a promise that you'll keep."

"Oh, Truxton—don't ask me to say that I'll be your—" She stopped, painfully embarrassed.

"That will come later," he said consolingly. "I want you to promise, on your sacred word of honour, that you'll kiss no man until you've kissed me."

"Oh!" she murmured, utterly speechless.

"Promise!"

"I—I cannot promise that," she said in tones almost inaudible. "I am not sure that I'll ever—ever kiss anybody. How silly you are!"

"I'll make exception in the case of your brother—and, yes, the Prince."

"I'll not make such a promise," she cried.

"Then, I'll be hanged if I'll save you from the ridiculous mess you've gotten yourself into," he announced with finality. "Moreover, you're not yet safe from old Marlanx. Think it over, my—"

"Oh, he cannot seize the Castle—it is impossible!" she cried in sudden terror.

"I'm not so sure about that," he said laconically.

"What is it you really want me to say?" she asked, looking up with sudden shyness in her starry eyes.

"That you love me—and me only, Loraine," he whispered.

"I will not say it," she cried, breaking away from him. "But," as she ran to the steps, a delicious tremor in her voice—"I will consider the other thing you ask."

"Darling—don't go," he cried, in eager, subdued tones, but she already was half way across the balcony. In a moment she was gone. "Poor, harassed little sweetheart!" he murmured, with infinite tenderness. For a long time he stood there, looking at the window through which she had disappeared, his heart full of song.

Then, all at once, he remembered the meeting. "Great Scott!" in dismay. "I'm late for the pow-wow." A twisted smile stole over his face. "I wonder how they've managed to get along without me." Then he presented himself, somewhat out of breath, to the attendants at the south doors, where he had been directed to report. A moment later he was in the Castle of Graustark, following a stiff-backed soldier through mediaeval halls of marble, past the historic staircase, down to the door of the council chamber. He was filled with the most delicious sensation of awe and reverence. Only in his dearest dreams had he fancied himself in these cherished halls. And now he was there—actually treading the same mosaic floors that had known the footsteps of countless princes and princesses, his nostrils tingling with the rare incense of five centuries, his blood leaping to the call of a thousand romances. The all but mythical halls of Graustark—the sombre, vaulted, time-defying corridors of his fancy. Somewhere in this vast pile of stone was the girl he loved. Each shadowy nook, each velvety recess, seemed to glow with the wizardry of love-lamps that had been lighted with the building of the Castle. How many hearts had learned the wistful lesson in these aged halls? How many loves had been sheltered here?

He walked on air. He pinched himself—and even then was not certain that he was awake. It was too good to be true.

He was ushered into a large, sedately furnished room. A score of men were there before him—sitting or standing in attitudes of attention, listening to the words of General Braze. King's entrance was the signal for an immediate transfer of interest. The General bowed most politely and at once turned to Count Halfont with the remark that he had quite finished his suggestions. The Prime Minister came forward to greet the momentarily shy American. King had time to note that the only man who denied him a smile of welcome was Count Vos Engo. He promptly included his rival in his own sweeping, self-conscious smile.

"The Council has been extolling you, Mr. King," said the Prime Minister, leading him to a seat near his own. Truxton sat down, bewildered. "We may some day grow large enough to adequately appreciate the invaluable, service you have performed in behalf of Graustark."

Truxton blushed. He could think of nothing to say, except: "I'm sorry to have been so late. I was detained."

Involuntarily he glanced at Vos Engo. That gentleman started, a curious light leaping into his eyes.

"Mr. King, we have asked you here for the purpose of hearing the full story of your experiences during the past two weeks, if you will be so good as to relate them. We have had them piecemeal. I need not tell you that Graustark is in the deepest peril. If there is a single suggestion that you can make that will help her to-night, I assure you that it will be given the most grateful consideration. Graustark has come to know and respect the resourcefulness and courage of the American gentleman. We have seen him at his best."

"I have really done no more than to—er—save my own neck," said Truxton simply. "Any one might be excused for doing the same. Graustark owes a great deal more to Miss Tullis than it does to me, believe me, my lords. She had the courage, I the strength."

"Be assured of our attitude toward Miss Tullis," said Halfont in reply. "Graustark loves her. It can do no more than that. It is from Miss Tullis that we have learned the extent of your valorous achievements. Ah, my dear young friend, she has given you a fair name. She tells us of a miracle and we are convinced."

Truxton stammered his remonstrances, but glowed with joy and pride.

"Here is the situation in a nutshell," went on the Prime Minister. "We are doomed unless succor reaches us from the outside. We have discussed a hundred projects. While we are inactive, Count Marlanx is gaining more power and a greater hold over the people of the city. We have no means of communication with Prince Dantan of Dawsbergen, who is our friend. We seem unable to get warning to John Tullis, who, if given time, might succeed in collecting a sufficient force of loyal countrymen to harass and eventually overthrow the Dictator. Unless he is reached before long, John Tullis and his combined force of soldiers will be ambushed and destroyed. I am loth to speak of another alternative that has been discussed at length by the ministers and their friends. The Duke of Perse, from a bed of pain and anguish, has counselled us to take steps in the direction I am about to speak of. You see, we are taking you into our confidence, Mr. King.

"We can appeal to Russia in this hour of stress. Moreover, we may expect that help will be forthcoming. But we will have to make an unpleasant sacrifice. Russia is eager to take over our new issue of railway bonds. Hitherto, we have voted against disposing of the bonds in that country, the reason being obvious. St. Petersburg wants a new connecting line with her possessions in Afghanistan. Our line will provide a most direct route—a cut-off, I believe they call it. Last year the Grand Duke Paulus volunteered to provide the money for the construction of the line from Edelweiss north to Balak on condition that Russia be given the right to use the line in connection with her own roads to the Orient. You may see the advantage in this to Russia. Mr. King, if I send word to the Grand Duke Paulus, agreeing to his terms, which still remain open to us, signing away a most valuable right in what we had hoped would be our own individual property, we have every reason to believe that he will send armed forces to our relief, on the pretext that Russia is defending properties of her own. That is one way in which we may oust Count Marlanx. The other lies in the ability of John Tullis to give battle to him with our own people carrying the guns. I am confident that Count Marlanx will not bombard the Castle except as a last resort. He will attempt to starve us into submission first; but he will not destroy property if he can help it. I have been as brief as possible. Lieutenant Haddan has told us quite lately of a remark you made which he happened to overhear. If I quote him correctly, you said to the Englishman Hobbs that you could get away with it, meaning, as I take it, that you could succeed in reaching John Tullis. The remark interested me, coming as it did from one so resourceful. May I not implore you to tell us how you would go about it?"

Truxton had turned a brick red. Shame and mortification surged within him. He was cruelly conscious of an undercurrent of irony in the Premier's courteous request. For an instant he was sorely crushed. A low laugh from the opposite side of the room sent a shaft to his soul. He looked up. Vos Engo was still smiling. In an instant the American's blood boiled; his manner changed like a flash; blind, unreasoning bravado succeeded embarrassment.

He faced Count Halfont coolly, almost impudently.

"I think I was unfortunate enough to add that your men were going about it—well, like amateurs," he said, with a frank smile. "I meant no offense." Then he arose suddenly, adjusted his necktie with the utmost sang froid, and announced:

"I did say I could get to John Tullis. If you like, I'll start to-night."

His words created a profound impression, they came so abruptly. The men stared at him, then at each other. It was as if he had read their thoughts and had jumped at once to the conclusion that they were baiting him. Every one began talking at once. Soon some one began to shake his hand. Then there were cheers and a dozen handshakings. Truxton grimly realised that he had done just what they had expected him to do. He tried to look unconcerned.

"You will require a guide," said Colonel Quinnox, who had been studying the degage American in the most earnest manner.

"Send for Mr. Hobbs, please," said Truxton.

A messenger was sent post haste to the barracks. The news already was spreading throughout the Castle. The chamber door was wide open and men were coming and going. Eager women were peering through the doorway for a glimpse of the American.

"There should be three of us," said King, addressing the men about him. "One of us is sure to get away."

"There is not a man here—or in the service—who will not gladly accompany you, Mr. King," cried General Braze quickly.

"Count Vos Engo is the man I would choose, if I may be permitted the honour of naming my companion," said Truxton, grinning inwardly with a malicious joy.

Vos Engo turned a yellowish green. His eyes bulged.

"I—I am in command of the person of his Royal Highness," he stammered, suddenly going very red.

"I had forgotten your present occupation," said Truxton quietly. "Pray pardon the embarrassment I may have caused you. After all, I think Hobbs will do. He knows the country like a book. Besides, his business in the city must be very dull just now. He'll be glad to have the chance to personally conduct me for a few days. As an American tourist, I must insist, gentlemen, on being personally conducted by a man from Cook's."

They did not know whether to laugh or to treat it as a serious announcement.

Mr. Hobbs came. That is to say, he was produced. It is doubtful if Mr. Hobbs ever fully recovered from the malady commonly known as stage fright. He had never been called Mr. Hobbs by a Prime Minister before, nor had he ever been asked in person by a Minister of War if he had a family at home. Moreover, no assemblage of noblemen had ever condescended to unite in three cheers for him. Afterward Truxton King was obliged to tell him that he had unwaveringly volunteered to accompany him on the perilous trip to the hills. Be sure of it, Mr. Hobbs was not in a mental condition for many hours to even remotely comprehend what had taken place. He only knew that he had been invited, as an English gentleman, to participate in a council of war.

But Mr. Hobbs was not the kind to falter, once he had given his word; however hazy he may have been at the moment, he knew that he had volunteered to do something. Nor did it seem to surprise him when he finally found out what it was.

"We'll be off at midnight, Hobbs," said Truxton, feeling in his pocket for the missing watch.

"As you say, Mr. King, just as you say," said Hobbs with fine indifference.

As Truxton was leaving the Castle ten minutes later, Hobbs having gone before to see to the packing of food-bags and the filling of flasks, a brisk, eager-faced young attendant hurried up to him.

"I bear a message from his Royal Highness," said the attendant, detaining him.

"He should be sound asleep at this time," said Truxton, surprised.

"His Royal Highness insists on staying awake as long as possible, sir. It is far past his bedtime, but these are troublesome times, he says. Every man should do his part. Prince Robin has asked for you, sir."

"How's that?"

"He desires you to appear before him at once, sir."

"In—in the audience chamber?"

"In his bedchamber, sir. He is very sleepy, but says that you are to come to him before starting away on your mission of danger."

"Plucky little beggar!" cried Truxton, his heart swelling with love for the royal youngster.

"Sir!" exclaimed the attendant, his eyes wide with amazement and reproof.

"I'll see him," said the other promptly, as if he were granting the audience.

He followed the perplexed attendant up the grand staircase, across thickly carpeted halls in which posed statuesque soldiers of the Royal Guard, to the door of the Prince's bedchamber. Here he was confronted by Count Vos Engo.

"Enter," said Vos Engo, with very poor grace, standing aside. The sentinels grounded their arms and Truxton King passed into the royal chamber, alone.



CHAPTER XX

BY THE WATER-GATE

It was a vast, lofty apartment, regal in its subdued lights. An enormous, golden bed with gorgeous hangings stood far down the room. So huge was this royal couch that Truxton at first overlooked the figure sitting bolt upright in the middle of it. The tiny occupant called out in a very sleepy voice:

"Here I am, Mr. King. Gee, I hate a bed as big as this. They just make me sleep in it."

An old woman advanced from the head of the couch and motioned Truxton to approach.

"I am deeply honoured, your Highness," said the visitor, bowing very low. Through the windows he could see motionless soldiers standing guard in the balcony.

"Come over here, Mr. King. Nurse won't let me get up. Excuse my nighty, will you, please? I'm to have pajamas next winter."

Truxton advanced to the side of the bed. His eyes had swept the room in search of the one person he wanted most to see of all in the world. An old male servitor was drawing the curtains at the lower end of the room. There was no one else there, except the nurse. They seemed as much a part of the furnishings of this room as if they had been fixtures from the beginning.

"I am sure you will like them," said Truxton, wondering whether she were divinely secreted in one of the great, heavily draped window recesses. She had been in this room but recently. A subtle, delicate, enchanting perfume that he had noticed earlier in the evening—ah, he would never forget it.

The Prince's legs were now hanging over the edge of the bed. His eyes were dancing with excitement; sleep was momentarily routed.

"Say, Mr. King, I wish I was going with you to find Uncle Jack. You will find him, won't you? I'm going to say it in my prayers to-night and every night. They won't hardly let me leave this room. It's rotten luck. I want to fight, too."

"We are all fighting for you, Prince Robin."

"I want you to find Uncle Jack, Mr. King," went on Bobby eagerly. "And tell him I didn't mean it when I banished him the other day. I really and truly didn't." He was having difficulty in keeping back the tears.

"I shall deliver the message, your Highness," said Truxton, his heart going out to the unhappy youngster. "Rest assured of that, please. Go to sleep and dream that I have found him and am bringing him back to you. The dream will come true."

"Are you sure?" brightening perceptibly.

"Positively."

"Americans always do what they say they will," said the boy, his eyes snapping. "Here's something for you to take with you, Mr. King. It's my lucky stone. It always gives good luck. Of course, you must promise to bring it back to me. It's an omen."

He unclasped his small fingers; in the damp palm lay one of those peculiarly milky, half-transparent pebbles, common the world over and of value only to small, impressionable boys. Truxton accepted it with profound gravity.

"I found it last 4th of July, when we were celebrating out there in the park. I'm always going to have a 4th of July here. Don't you lose it, Mr. King, and you'll have good luck. Baron Dangloss says it's the luckiest kind of a stone. And when you come back, Mr. King, I'm going to knight you. I'd do it now, only Aunt Loraine says you'd be worrying about your title all the time and might be 'stracted from your mission. I'm going to make a baron of you. That's higher than a count in Graustark. Vos Engo is only a count."

Truxton started. He looked narrowly into the frank, engaging eyes of the boy in the nighty.

"I shall be overwhelmed," he said. Then his hand went to his mouth in the vain effort to cover the smile that played there.

"My mother used to say that American girls liked titles," said the Prince with ingenuous candor.

"Yes?" He hoped that she was eavesdropping.

"Nurse said that I was not to keep you long, Mr. King," said the Prince ruefully. "I suppose you are very busy getting ready. I just wanted to give you my lucky stone and tell you about being a baron. I won't have any luck till you come back. Tell Mr. Hobbs I'm thinking of making him a count. You're awful brave, Mr. King."

"Thank you, Prince Robin. May I—" he glanced uneasily at the distant nurse—"may I ask how your Aunt Loraine is feeling?"

"She acted very funny when I sent for you. I'm worried about her."

"What did she do, your Highness?"

"She rushed off to her room. I think, Mr. King, she was getting ready to cry or something. You see, she's in trouble."

"In trouble?"

"Yes. I can't tell you about it."

"She's worried about her brother, of course—and you."

"I just wish I could tell you—no, I won't. It wouldn't be fair," Bobby said, checking himself resolutely. "She's awful proud of you. I'm sure she likes you, Mr. King."

"I'm very, very glad to hear that."

Bobby had great difficulty in keeping his most secret impressions to himself. In fact, he floundered painfully in an attack on diplomacy.

"You should have seen her when Uncle Caspar came in to say you were going off to find her brother. She cried. Yes, sir, she did. She kissed me and—but you don't like to hear silly things about girls, do you? Great big men never do."

"I've heard enough to make me want to do something very silly myself," said Truxton, radiant. "I—I don't suppose I could—er—see your Aunt Loraine for a few minutes?"

"I think not. She said she just—now, you mustn't mind her, Mr. King—she just couldn't bear it, that's all. She told me to say she'd pray for you and—Oh, Mr. King, I do hope she won't marry that other man!"

Truxton bent his knee. "Your Highness, as it seems I am not to see her, and as you seem to be the very best friend I have, I should very much like to ask a great favour of you. Will you take this old ring of mine and wish it on her finger just as soon as I have left your presence?"

"How did you know she was coming in again?" in wide-eyed wonder. "Excuse me. I shouldn't ask questions. What shall I wish?" It was the old ring that had come from Spantz's shop. The Prince promptly hid it beneath the pillow.

"I'll leave that to you, my best of friends."

"I bet it'll be a good wish, all right. I know what to wish."

"I believe you do. Would you mind giving her something else from me?" He hesitated before venturing the second request. Then, overswept by a warm, sweet impulse, he stepped forward, took the boy's face between his eager hands, and pressed a kiss upon his forehead. "Give her that for me, will you, Prince Robin Goodfellow."

Bobby beamed. "But I never kiss her there!"

"I shall be ten thousand times obliged, your Highness, if you will deliver it in the usual place."

"I'll do it!" almost shouted the Prince. Then he clapped his hand over his mouth and looked, pop-eyed with apprehension, toward the nurse.

"Then, good-bye and God bless you," said Truxton. "I must be off. Your Uncle Jack is waiting for me, up there in the hills."

Bobby's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Mr. King, please give him my love and make him hurry back. I—I need him awful!"

Truxton found Mr. Hobbs in a state bordering on collapse.

"I say, Mr. King, it's all right to say we'll go, but how the deuce are we to do it? My word, there's no more chance of getting out of the—"

"Listen, Hobbs: we're going to swim out," said Truxton. He was engaged in stuffing food into a knapsack. Colonel Quinnox and Haddan had been listening to Hobbs's lamentations for half an hour, in King's room.

"Swim? Oh, I say! By hokey, he's gone clean daffy!" Hobbs was eyeing him with alarm. The others looked hard at the speaker, scenting a joke.

"Not yet, Hobbs. Later on, perhaps. I had occasion to make a short tour of investigation this afternoon. Doubtless, gentlemen, you know where the water-gate is, back of the Castle. Well, I've looked it over—and under, I might say. Hobbs, you and I will sneak under those slippery old gates like a couple of eels. I forgot to ask if you can swim."

"To be sure I can. Under the gates? My word!"

"Simple as rolling off a log," said Truxton carelessly. "The Cascades and Basin of Venus run out through the gate. There is a space of at least a foot below the bottom of the gate, which hasn't been opened in fifty years, I'm told. A good swimmer can wriggle through, d'ye see? That lets him out into the little canal that connects with the river. Then—"

"I see!" cried Quinnox. "It can be done! No one will be watching at that point."

The sky was overcast, the night as black as ebony. The four men left the officers' quarters at one o'clock, making their way to the historic old gate in the glen below the Castle. Arriving at the wall, Truxton briefly whispered his plans.

"You remember, Colonel Quinnox, that the stream is four or five feet deep here at the gate. The current has washed a deeper channel under the iron-bound timbers. The gates are perhaps two feet thick. For something like seven or eight feet from the bottom they are so constructed that the water runs through an open network of great iron bars. Now, Hobbs and I will go under the gates in the old-clothes you have given us. When we are on the opposite side we'll stick close by the gate, and you may pass our dry clothes out between the bars above the surface of the water. Our guns, the map and the food, as well. It's very simple. Then we'll drop down the canal a short distance and change our clothes in the underbrush. Hobbs knows where we can procure horses and he knows a trusty guide on the other side of the city. So long, Colonel. I'll see you later."

"God be with you," said Quinnox fervently. The four men shook hands and King slipped into the water without a moment's hesitation.

"Right after me, Hobbs," he said, and then his head went under.

A minute later he and Hobbs were on the outside of the gate, gasping for breath. Standing in water to their necks, Quinnox and Haddan passed the equipment through the barred openings. There were whispered good-byes and then two invisible heads bobbed off in the night, wading in the swift-flowing canal, up to their chins. Swimming would have been dangerous, on account of the noise.

Holding their belongings high above their heads, with their hearts in their mouths, King and the Englishman felt their way carefully along the bed of the stream. Not a sound was to be heard, except the barking of dogs in the distance. The stillness of death hung over the land. So still, that the almost imperceptible sounds they made in breathing and moving seemed like great volumes of noise in their tense ears.

A hundred yards from the gate they crawled ashore and made their way up over the steep bank into the thick, wild underbrush. Not a word had been spoken up to this time.

"Quietly now, Hobbs. Let us get out of these duds. 'Gad, they're like ice. From now on, Hobbs, you lead the way. I'll do my customary act of following."

Hobbs was shivering from the cold. "I say, Mr. King, you're a wonder, that's wot you are. Think of going under those bally gates!"

"That's right, Hobbs, think of it, but don't talk."

They stealthily stripped themselves of the wet garments, and, after no end of trouble, succeeded in getting into the dry substitutes. Then they lowered the wet bundles into the water and quietly stole off through the brush, Hobbs in the lead, intent upon striking the King's Highway, a mile or two above town. It was slow, arduous going, because of the extreme caution required. A wide detour was made by the canny Hobbs—wider, in fact, than the impatient American thought wholly necessary. In time, however, they came to the Highway.

"Well, we've got a start, Hobbs. We'll win out, just as I said we would. Easy as falling off a log."

"I'm not so blooming sure of that," said Hobbs. He was recalling a recent flight along this very road. "We're a long way from being out of the woods."

"Don't be a kill-joy, Hobbs. Look at the bright side of things."

"I'll do that in the morning, when the sun's up," said Hobbs, with a sigh. "Come along, sir. We take this path here for the upper road. It's a good two hours' walk up the mountain to Rabot's, where we get the horses."

All the way up the black, narrow mountain path Hobbs kept the lead. King followed, his thoughts divided between the blackness ahead and the single, steady light in a certain window now far behind. He had seen the lighted window in the upper balcony as he passed the Castle on the way to the gate. Somehow he knew she was there saying good-bye and Godspeed to him.

At four o'clock, as the sun reached up with his long, red fingers from behind the Monastery mountain, Truxton King and Hobbs rode away from Rabot's cottage high in the hills, refreshed and sound of heart. Rabot's son rode with them, a sturdy, loyal lad, who had leaped joyously at the chance to serve his Prince. Undisturbed, they rode straight for the passes below St. Valentine's. Behind and below them lay the sleeping, restless, unhappy city of Edelweiss, with closed gates and unfriendly, sullen walls. There reigned the darkest fiend that Graustark, in all her history, had ever come to know.

Truxton King had slipped through his fingers with almost ridiculous ease. So simple had it been, that the two messengers, gloating in the prospect ahead, now spoke of the experience as if it were the most trivial thing in their lives. They mentioned it casually; that was all.

Now, let us turn to John Tullis and his quest in the hills. It goes without saying that he found no trace of his sister or her abductors. For five days he scoured the lonely, mysterious mountains, dragging the tired but loyal hundred about at his heels, distracted by fear and anguish over the possible fate of the adored one. On the fifth day, a large force of Dawsbergen soldiers, led by Prince Dantan himself, found the fagged, disspirited American and his half-starved men encamped in a rocky defile in the heart of the wilderness.

That same night a Graustark mountaineer passed the sentinels and brought news of the disturbance in Edelweiss. He could give no details. He only knew that there had been serious rioting in the streets and that the gates were closed against all comers. He could not tell whether the rioters—most of whom he took to be strikers, had been subdued or whether mob-law prevailed. He had been asked to cast his lot with the strikers, but had refused. For this he was driven away from his home, which was burned. His wife and child were now at the Monastery, where many persons had taken refuge.

In a flash it occurred to John Tullis that Marlanx was at the bottom of this deviltry. The abduction of Loraine was a part of his plan! Prince Dantan advised a speedy return to the city. His men were at the command of the American. Moreover, the Prince himself decided to accompany the troops.

Before sunrise, the command, now five or six hundred strong, was picking its way down the dangerous mountain roads toward the main highway. Fifteen miles below Edelweiss they came upon the company of soldiers sent out to preserve order in the railroad camps.

The officer in charge exhibited a document, given under the hand and seal of Baron Dangloss, directing him to remain in command of the camps until the strikers, who were unruly, could be induced to resume work once more. This order, of course, was a forgery, designed to mislead the little force until Marlanx saw fit to expose his hand to the world. It had come by messenger on the very day of the rioting. The messenger brought the casual word that the government was arresting and punishing the lawless, and that complete order would hardly be established for several days at the outside. He went so far as to admit that an attempt on the life of the Prince had failed. Other reports had come to the camps, and all had been to the effect that the rioting was over. The strikers, it seemed, were coming to terms with their employers and would soon take up the work of construction once more. All this sufficed to keep the real situation from reaching the notice of the young captain; he was obeying orders and awaiting the return of the workmen.

The relief that swept into the souls of the newly arrived company was short-lived. They had gone into camp, tired, sore and hungry, and were preparing to take a long needed rest before taking up the last stage of their march toward the city. John Tullis was now in feverish haste to reach the city, where at least he might find a communication from the miscreants, demanding ransom. He had made up his mind to pay whatever they asked. Down in his heart, however, there was a restless fear that she had not fallen into the hands of ordinary bandits. He could not banish the sickening dread that she was in the power of Marlanx, to whom she alone could pay the ransom exacted.

Hardly had the men thrown themselves from their horses when the sound of shooting in the distance struck their ears. Instantly the entire force was alert. A dozen shots were fired in rapid succession; then single reports far apart. The steady beat of horses' feet was now plain to the attentive company. There was a quick, incisive call to arms; a squad stood ready for action. The clatter of hoofs drew nearer; a small group of horsemen came thundering down the defile. Three minutes after the firing was first heard, sentries threw their rifles to their shoulders and blocked the approach of the riders.

A wild, glad shout went up from the foremost horseman. He had pulled his beast to its haunches almost at the muzzles of the guns.

"Tullis!" he shouted, waving his hat.

John Tullis ran toward the excited group in the road. He saw three men, one of whom was shouting his name with all the power in his lungs.

"Thank God, we've found you!" cried the horseman, swinging to the ground despite the proximity of strange rifles. "Put up your guns! We're friends!"

"King!" exclaimed Tullis, suddenly recognising him. A moment later they were clasping hands.

"This is luck! We find you almost as soon as we set out to do so. Glory be! You've got a fair-sized army, too. We'll need 'em—and more."

"What has happened, King? Where have you been? We looked for you after your disap—"

"That's ancient history," interrupted the other. "How soon can you get these troops on the march? There's not a moment to be lost."

"Good God, man, tell me what it is—what has happened? The Prince? What of him?" cried Tullis, grasping King's arm in the clutch of a vise.

"He sends his love and rescinds the order of exile," said King, smiling. Then seriously: "Marlanx has taken the city. It was all a game, this getting rid of you. He's superstitious about Americans. There was bomb-throwing in the square and a massacre afterward. The Prince and all the others are besieged in the Castle. I'll tell you all about it. Hobbs and I are the only men who have got away from the Castle alive. We left last night. Our object was to warn you in time to prevent an ambush. You've got to save the throne for Prince Robin. I'll explain as we go along. I may as well inform you right now that there's a big force of men waiting for you in the ravine this side of the Monastery. We saw them. Thank God, we got to you in time. You can now take 'em by surprise and—whiff! They'll run like dogs. Back here a couple of miles we came upon a small gang of real robbers. We had a bit of shooting and—I regret to say—no one was bagged. I'd advise you to have this force pushed along as rapidly as possible. I have a message from your sister, sir."

"Loraine? Where is she, King?"

"Don't tremble like that, old man. She's safe enough—in the Castle. Oh, it was a fine game Marlanx had in his mind."

While the troopers were making ready for the march, Truxton King and Hobbs related their story to eager, horrified groups of officers. It may be well to say that neither said more of his own exploits than was absolutely necessary to connect the series of incidents. Prince Dantan marvelled anew at this fresh demonstration of Yankee courage and ingenuity. King graphically narrated the tale from beginning to end. The full force of the amazing tragedy was brought home to the pale, half-dazed listeners. There were groans and curses and bitter cries of vengeance. John Tullis was crushed; despair was written in his face, anguish in his eyes.

What was to become of the Prince?

"First of all, Tullis, we must destroy these scoundrels who are lying in wait for you in the ravine," said Prince Dantan. "After that you can be in a position to breathe easily while collecting the army of fighters that Mr. King suggests. Surely, you will be able to raise a large and determined force. My men are at Prince Robin's disposal. Captain Haas may command them as his own. I deplore the fact that I may not call upon the entire Dawsbergen army. Marlanx evidently knows our laws. Our army cannot go to the aid of a neighbor. We have done so twice in half a century and our people have been obliged to pay enormous indemnity. But there are men here. I am here. We will not turn back, Mr. Tullis. My people will not hold me at fault for taking a hand in this. I shall send messengers to the Princess; she, of course, must know."

The battalion, augmented by the misguided company from the deserted railroad camps, moved swiftly into the defile, led by young Rabot. Truxton King rode beside the brother of the girl he loved, uttering words of cheer and encouragement.

"King, you do put new courage into me. You are surcharged with hope and confidence. By heaven, I believe we can drive out that damned beast and his dogs. We will do it!"

"There's a chap named Brutus. I ask special permission to kill him. That's the only request I have to make."

"I very strongly oppose the appeal to Grand Duke Paulus. We must act decisively before that alternative is forced upon the unhappy Halfont. It was Perse's scheme, months ago. Perse! Confound him, I believe he has worked all along to aid—"

"Hold on, Tullis," interrupted King soberly. "I wouldn't say that if I were you. The Duke was wounded by the dynamiters and I understand he lies on his bed and curses Marlanx from morning till night. He prays constantly that his daughter may be freed from the old scoundrel."

"The Countess Ingomede—has anything been heard from her?" asked Tullis. He had been thinking of her for days—and nights.

"Well, nothing definite," said King evasively. He was reminded at this moment of his own love affair. Seized by the boldest impulse that had ever come to him, he suddenly blurted out: "Tullis, I love your sister. I have loved her from the beginning. All that has happened in the last week has strengthened my adoration. I think she cares for me, but,—but—"

"My dear Mr. King, I'm sorry—" began Tullis, genuinely surprised.

"But it seems that she's promised to marry Vos Engo. I'll tell you how it happened." Then he related the episode of the rout in Castle Avenue. "It's all wrong for her to marry that chap. If she hasn't been bullied into it before we get back to her, I'd like to know if you won't put a stop to his damned impudence. What right has such a fellow as Vos Engo to a good American girl like Loraine? None whatever. Besides, I'm going to fight him when we're through fighting Marlanx. I want you as my second. Can't say whether it will be swords, pistols or knuckles. I hope you'll oblige me. As a matter of fact, I had two primary objects in looking you up out here in the hills. First, to ask you for Loraine; second, to engage you as my second."

Tullis was silent for a while. Then he said, quite seriously: "King, I have looked with some favour upon Vos Engo. I thought she liked him. He isn't a bad fellow, believe me. I want Loraine to be happy. As for this promise to him, I'll talk that over with her—if God permits me to see her again I shall allow her to choose, King. You or Vos Engo—the one she loves, that's all. As for seconding you, I am at your service."

King beamed. "That means, I take it, that you want me to win at least one of the contests. Well," with his whimsical, irresistible smile, "it won't be necessary to try for the other if Vos Engo shoots me in this one."

"You will never know the extent of my gratitude, King. You have saved her from a hellish fate. I shall be disappointed in her if she does not choose you. I owe you a debt of gratitude almost as great for saving that dear little boy of—ours. I shall not forget what you have done—never!"

Early in the afternoon the force under Captain Haas was divided into three companies, for strategic purposes. The plan to surprise and defeat the skulkers in the ravine had been carefully thought out. Two strong companies struck off into the hills; the third and weakest of the trio kept the road, apparently marching straight into the trap. Signals had been arranged. At a given sign the three parties were to swoop down upon the position held by the enemy.

Several hours passed. The troop in the highroad prepared to camp just below the treacherous pass in which the ambush was known to be laid. Scouts had located the confident rascals in the ravines above the highway. With the news that their prey was approaching, they were being rapidly rushed into position at the head of the pass.

Shortly before sunset the troop in the road began to advance, riding resolutely into the ravine. Even as the gloating, excited desperadoes prepared to open fire from their hidden position at the head of the pass, their pickets came running in with the word that two large forces were drawing in on them from the north and east.

The trappers were trapped. They realised that they had been out-generalled, and they understood their deficiencies. Not a man among them knew the finer points of warfare. They were thugs and roustabouts and ill-omened fellows who could stab in the back; they were craven in the face of an open peril.

There were few shots fired. The men in ambuscade tried to escape to the fastnesses of the hills. Some of them stood ground and fought, only to be mown down by the enemy; others were surrounded and made captive; but few actually succeeded in evading the troopers. All were ready to sue for mercy and to proclaim their willingness to divert allegiance from dictator to Crown. Herded like so many cattle, guarded like wolves, they were driven city-ward, few if any of them exhibiting the slightest symptom of regret or discomfiture. In fact, they seemed more than philosophic: they were most jovial. These were soldiers of fortune, in the plainest sense. It mattered little with whom they were allied or against whom they fought, so long as the pay was adequate and prompt.

Indeed, the leaders of the party—officers by grace of lucky tosses—benignly proffered the services of themselves and men in the movement to displace Count Marlanx!

"He cannot hold out," said the evil-faced captain in cool derision. "He cannot keep his promises to us. So why should we cut our own throats? All we ask is transportation to Austria after the job's over. That's where most of us came from, your Excellencies. Count on us, if you need us. Down with Marlanx!"

"Long live Prince—" Three-fourths of them stopped there because they did not even know the name of the little ruler.



CHAPTER XXI

THE RETURN

From the highlands below the Monastery, Captain Haas and his men were able to study the situation in the city. The impracticability of an assault on any one of the stubborn, well-guarded gates was at once recognised. A force of seven hundred men, no matter how well trained or determined, could not be expected to surmount walls that had often withstood the attack of as many thousands. The wisdom of delaying until a few thousand loyal, though poorly armed countrymen could be brought into play against the city appealed at once to Prince Dantan and John Tullis.

Withdrawing to an unexposed cut in the hills, safe from the shells that might be thrown up from the fortress, they established their camps, strongly entrenched and practically invulnerable against any attack from below. Squads of men were sent without delay into the hills and valleys to call the panic-stricken, wavering farmers into the fold. John Tullis headed the company that struck off into the well-populated Ganlook district.

Marlanx, as if realising the nature of the movement in the hills, began a furious assault on the gates leading to the Castle. The watchers in the hills could see as well as hear the conflict that raged almost at their feet, so to speak. They cheered like mad when the motley army of the usurper was frustrated in the attempt to take the main gates. From the walls about the park, Quinnox's men, few as they were, sent such deadly volleys into the streets below that the hordes fell back and found shelter behind the homes of the rich. With half an eye, one could see that the rascals were looting the palaces, secure from any opposition on the part of the government forces; through the glasses, scattered crowds of men could be seen carrying articles from the houses; more than one of the mansions went up in flames as the day grew old and the lust of the pillagers increased.

The next morning, Captain Haas announced to his followers that Marlanx had begun to shell the Castle. Big guns in the fortress were hurling great shells over the city, dropping them in the park. On the other hand, Colonel Quinnox during the night had swung three Gatling guns to the top of the wall; they were stationed at intervals along the wall, commanding every point from which an assault might be expected. It was a well-known fact that there was no heavy ordnance at the Castle. All day long, Marlanx's men, stationed in the upper stories of houses close to the walls, kept up a constant rifle fire, their bullets being directed against the distant windows of the Castle. That this desultory fusillade met with scant response at the hands of Quinnox, was quite apparent to the uneasy, champing watchers near the Monastery.

"Marlanx will not begin the actual bombardment until he knows that Tullis is drawing together a formidable force," prophesied Prince Dantan.

"But when he does begin the real shelling," mourned Truxton King, chafing like a lion under the deadly inaction. "I can't bear the thought of what it means to those inside the Castle. He can blow it to pieces over their heads. Then, from the house tops, he can pick them off like blackbirds. It's awful! Is there nothing that we can do, Prince? Damn it all, I know we can force a gate. And if we once get in where those cowardly dogs are lording it, you'll see 'em take the walls like steeple-chasers."

"My dear Mr. King," said Prince Dantan calmly, "you don't know Colonel Quinnox and the House Guard. The Quinnoxs have guarded Graustark's rulers for I don't know how many generations. History does not go back so far, I fear. You may depend on it, there will be no living guardsmen inside those walls when Marlanx lays his hands on the Prince."

That night recruits from the farms and villages began to straggle into the camp. They were armed with rifles, ordinary shotguns and antique "blunderbusses;" swords, staves and aged lances. All were willing to die in the service of the little Prince; all they needed was a determined, capable leader to rally them from the state of utter panic. They reported that the Crown foragers might expect cheerful and plenteous tribute from the farmers and stock growers. Only the mountaineers were hostile.

The army now grew with astonishing rapidity. The recruits were not fighting men in a military sense, but their hearts were true and they hungered for the chance to stamp out the evil that lay at their feet. By the close of the second day nearly three thousand men were encamped above the city. Late that night John Tullis rode into camp at the head of a great company from the Ganlook province. He had retaken the town of Ganlook, seized the fortress, and recruited the entire fighting strength of the neighbourhood. More than that, he had unlimbered and conveyed to the provisional camp two of the big guns that stood above the gates at the fortress. There had been a dozen skirmishes between the regulars and roving bands of desperadoes. A savage fight took place at Ganlook and another in the gap below the witch's hut. In both of these sanguinary affrays the government forces had come off victorious, splendid omens that did not fail to put confidence into the hearts of the men.

Marlanx trained two of his big guns on the camp in the hills. From the fortress he threw many futile shells toward their place of shelter. They did no damage; instead of death, they brought only laughter to the scornful camp. Under cover of night, the two Ganlook cannons were planted in a position commanding the southeastern city gate. It was the plan of the new besiegers to bombard this gate, tearing it to pieces with shot. When their force was strong enough offensively, an assault would be flung against this opening. Drill and discipline were necessary, however, before the attempt could be made. In the present chaotic, untrained condition of their forces, an assault would prove not only ineffectual, but disastrous. Day after day the recruits were put through hard drill under the direction of the regular officers. Every day saw the force increased. This made hard work for the drill-masters. The willingness of the recruits, however, lessened the task considerably.

The knowledge that Marlanx had no big guns except those stationed in the fortress was most consoling to Tullis and his friends. He could not destroy the Castle gates with shells, except by purest chance. He could drop shells into the Castle, but to hit a gate twenty feet wide? Never! Field ordnance was unknown to this country of mountains.

The Iron Count's inability to destroy the Castle gates made it feasible for the men in the hills to devote considerable more time to drill and preparation than they might have sacrificed if the conditions were the reverse. They were confident that Quinnox could hold the Castle for many days. With all this in mind, Captain Haas and Prince Dantan beat down the objections of the impatient Americans; the work of preparation against ignominous failure went on as rapidly as possible. Haas would not attack until he was ready, or it became absolutely certain that the men at the Castle were in dire need.

Signalling between the Castle and the hills had been going on for days. The absence of the "wigwag" system made it impossible to convey intelligible messages.

Truxton King was growing haggard from worry and loss of sleep. He could not understand the abominable, criminal procrastination. He was of a race that did things with a dash and on the spur of the moment. His soul sickened day by day. John Tullis, equally unhappy, but more philosophical, often found him seated upon a rock at the top of the ravine, an unlighted pipe in his fingers, his eyes intent upon the hazy Castle.

"Cheer up, King. Our time will come," he was wont to say.

"I've just got to do something, Tullis. This standing around is killing me." Again he would respond: "Don't forget that I love some one down there, old man. Maybe she's worrying about me, as well as about you." Once he gave poor Mr. Hobbs a frightful tongue-lashing and was afterward most contrite and apologetic. Poor Hobbs had been guilty of asking if he had a headache.

Truxton was assigned to several scouting expeditions, simply to provide him with action and diverting excitement. One of these expeditions determined the impossibility of entering the city through the railroad yards because of the trestle-work and the barricade of freight cars at the gap in the wall.

They had been in camp for a week. The stategists had practically decided that the assault could be made within a day or two. All was in readiness—or as near as it could be—and all was enthusiasm and excitement.

"If Haas puts it off another day I'm going to start a round robin, whatever that is," said Truxton. As he said it to a Dawsbergen officer who could not understand English, it is doubtful if that gentleman's polite nod of acquiescence meant unqualified approval of the project.

At first they had built no fires at night. Now the force was so formidable that this precaution was unnecessary. The air was chill and there were tents for but a few of the troopers. The fires in the ravine always were surrounded by great circles of men, eagerly discussing the coming battle. At the upper end of the ravine were the tents of the officers, Prince Dantan and John Tullis. The latter shared his with King and Mr. Hobbs. Up here, the circle about the kindly pile of burning logs was small, select and less demonstrative. Here they smoked in silence most of the time, each man's thoughts delivered to himself.

Above, on the jutting rock, sat the disconsolate, lovesick Truxton. It was the night before the proposed assault on the gates. The guns were in position and the cannonading was to begin at daybreak. He was full of the bitterness of doubt and misgiving. Was she in love with Vos Engo? Was the Count's suit progressing favourably under the fire of the enemy? Was his undoubted bravery having its effect upon the wavering susceptibilities of the distressed Loraine?

Here was he, Truxton King, idle and useless for more than a week, beyond range of the guns of the foe, while down there was Vos Engo in the thick of it, at the side of the girl he loved in those long hours of peril, able to comfort her, to cheer her, to fight for her. It was maddening. He was sick with uncertainty, consumed by jealousy. His pipe was not out now: he was smoking furiously.

The sound of a voice in sharp command attracted his attention. One of the sentries in the road below the elbow of the ridge had stopped some one who was approaching the camp. There was a bright moon, and Truxton could see other pickets hurrying to join the first. A few moments later the trespassers were escorted through the lines and taken directly to headquarters. A man and two women, King observed. Somewhat interested, he sauntered down from his lonely boulder and joined the group of officers.

John Tullis was staring hard at the group approaching from the roadway. They were still outside the circle of light, but it was plain to all that the newcomers were peasants. The women wore the short red skirts and the pointed bonnets of the lower classes. Gaudy shawls covered their shoulders. One was tall and slender, with a bearing that was not peasant-like. It was she who held Tullis's intense, unbelieving gaze until they were well inside the fire-light. She walked ahead of her companions. Suddenly he sprang forward with a cry of amazement.

It was the Countess Ingomede.

Her arrival created a sensation. In a moment she was in the centre of an amazed circle of men. Tullis, after his first low, eager greeting at the edge of the fire circle, drew her near to the warmth-giving flames. Prince Dantan and Captain Haas threw rugs and blankets in a great heap for her to sit upon. Every one was talking at once. The Countess was smiling through her tears.

"Make room for my maid and her father. They are colder and more fatigued than I," she said, lifting her tired, glorious eyes to John Tullis, who stood beside her. "We have come from Balak. They suffered much, that I might enjoy the slender comforts I was so ready to share with them."

"Thank God, you are here," he said in low, intense tones. She could not mistake the fervour in his voice nor the glow in his eyes. Her wondrous, yellowish orbs looked steadily into his, and he was satisfied. They paid tribute to the emotion that moved him to the depths of his being. Love leaped up to him from those sweet, tired eyes; leaped with the unerring force of an electric current that finds its lodestone in spite of mortal will.

"I knew you were here, John. I am not going back to Count Marlanx. It is ended."

"I knew it would come, Ingomede. You will let me tell you how glad I am—some day?"

"Some day, when I am truly, wholly free from him, John. I know what you will say, and I think you know what I shall say in reply." Both understood and were exalted. No other word passed between them touching upon the thing that was uppermost in their minds.

Food was provided for the wayfarers, and Tullis's tent was made ready for the Countess and her maid.

"Truxton," said he, "we will have to find other quarters for the night. I've let my apartment—furnished."

"She's gloriously beautiful, John," was all that Truxton said, puffing moodily at his pipe. He was thinking of one more beautiful, however. "I suppose you'd think it a favour if I'd pot Marlanx for you to-morrow."

"It doesn't matter whether he's potted or not, my friend. She will not go back to him. He will have to find another prisoner for his household."

Truxton's thoughts went with a shudder to the underground room and the fair prisoner who had shared it with him. The dread of what might have been the fate of Loraine Tullis—or what might still be in store for her—brought cold chills over him. He abruptly turned away and sat down at the outer edge of the group.

The Countess's story was soon told. Sitting before the great fire, surrounded by eager listeners, she related her experiences. Prince Dantan was her most attentive listener.

She had been seized on the night of the ball as she started across her father's garden. Before sunrise she was well on her way to Balak, in charge of three of the Count's most faithful henchmen. As for the messages that were sent to Edelweiss, she knew nothing of them, except the last, which she had managed to get through with the assistance of Josepha's father. She was kept a close prisoner in a house just outside of Balak, and came to learn all of the infamous projects of her husband. At the end of ten days her maid was sent to her from Edelweiss. She brought the news of the calamity that had befallen the city. It was then that she determined to break away from her captors and try to reach the Monastery of St. Valentine, where protection would be afforded her for the time being. After several days of ardent persuasion, she and Josepha prevailed upon the latter's father to assist them in their flight. Not only was he persuaded, but in the end he journeyed with them through the wildest country north of Ganlook. They were four days in covering the distance, partly on foot, partly by horse. Near the city they heard of the presence of troops near the Monastery. Farmers' wives told them of the newly formed army and of its leaders. She determined to make her way to the camp of those who would destroy her husband, eager to give them any assistance that her own knowledge of Marlanx's plans might provide.