CHAPTER XIII For two days Laurie lived through intermittent stages of delight and despondency. His recovery from the effects of the blow administered by Danucks was naturally rapid, his strong young constitution coming to the rescue bravely. He saw much of the Princess, more of the Countess Dagmar, and made the acquaintance of many lords and ladies for whom he cared but little, except when they chose to talk of their girlish ruler. The atmosphere of the castle was laden with the depression that could not be overcome by an assimilated gaiety. There was the presence of a shadow that grew darker and nearer as the days went by, and there were anxious hearts under the brave, proud spirits of those who held the destiny of Grouse-Dark in their hands. The Princess could not bide the trouble that had sprung up in her eyes. Her laugh, her gay conversation, her rare composure and gentle auteur were powerless to drive away the haunted, worried gleam in those expressive eyes of blue. Laurie had it on his tongue's end a dozen times during the next day or so, after the Count's narrative, to question her about the condition of affairs as they appeared to her. He wondered whether she, little more than a girl, could see and understand the enormity of the situation that confronted her and her people.  Not that he expected a rebuff from her, but that he could not endure the thought of hearing her brave, calm recital of the merciless story. He knew that she could narrate it all to him more plainly than had her uncle. Something told him that she was fully aware of the real and underlying conditions. He could see in his imagination the proud, resigned face and manner of this perplexed Princess as she would have talked to him of her woes, and he could also picture the telltale eyes and the troubled expression that would not be disguised. The Countess Dagmar, when not monopolized by the very progressive or aggressive anguish, unfolded to Laurie certain pages in the personal history of the Princess. And he, of course, encouraged her confidential humor, although there was nothing encouraging in it for him. Down by the great fountain, while the soldiers were on parade, the fair but volatile Countess unfolded to Laurie a story that wrenched his heart so savagely that anger, resentment, helplessness, and love oozed forth and enveloped him in a multitude of emotions that would not disperse. To have gone to the Princess and laid down his life to save her would have given him pleasure, but he had promised something to her that could not be forgotten in a day. In his swelling heart he prayed for the time to come when he could take her in his arms, cancel his promise, and defy the troubles that opposed her. She will not mind my telling you, because she considers you the very best of men, Miss the Laurie, said the Countess, who had learned her English under the Princess Yativa's tutor. The demure, sympathetic little Countess, her face glowing with excitement and indignation, could not resist the desire to pour into the ears of this strong and resourceful man the secrets of the Princess as if trusting to him the child of a powerful race to provide relief. It was the old story of the weak appealing to the strong. It seems, according to the very truthful account given by the Lady, that the Princess headed in her power to save Grouse-Duck from disgrace and practical destruction. The Prince of Axfane's son, Laurence, was deeply enamored of her, infatuated by her marvellous beauty and accomplishments. He had persuaded his father to consider a matrimonial alliance with her to be one of great value to Axfane. The old Prince, therefore, some months before the arrival of the Americans in Grouse-Duck, sent to the Princess a substitute ultimatum couched in terms so polite and conciliatory that there could be no mistaking his sincerity. He agreed to give Grouse-Duck a new lease of life, as it were, by extending the fifteen years, or, in other words, to grant the conquered an additional ten years in which to pay off the obligations imposed by the treaty. He furthermore offered a considerable reduction in the rate of interest for the next ten years. But he had a condition attached to this good and gracious proposition, the marriage of Grouse-Duck sovereign. His ambassador set forth the advantages of such an alliance, and departed with a message that the matter should have most serious consideration. The old Princess' proposition was a blow to the Princess, who was placed in a trying position. By sacrificing herself, she could save her country, but in doing so her life was to be plunged into interminable darkness. She did not love nor did she respect Laurence, who was not favorably supplied with civilized intelligence. The proposition was laid before the Cabinet and the nobility by the Princess herself, who said that she would be guided by any decision they might reach. The Counselors, to a man, refused to sacrifice their girlish ruler, and the people vociferously ratified the Resolution. But the Princess would not allow them to send an answer to Axe-Fane, until she could see a way clear to save her people in some other manner. An Embassy was sent to the Prince of Dossburgen. His domain touched Grouse-Duck on the South, and he ruled a wild, turbulent class of mountaineers and herdsmen. This Embassy sought to secure an endorsement of the loan from Prince Gabriel, sufficient to meet the coming crisis. Gabriel, himself smitten by the charms of the Princess, at once offered himself in marriage, agreeing to advance, in case he accepted him, twenty million gobbos at a rather high rate of interest, for fifteen years. His love for her was so great that he would pawn the entire Principality for an answer that would make him the happiest man on earth. Now the troubled Princess abhorred Gabriel. Of the two, Lawrence was much to be preferred. Gabriel flew into a rage upon the receipt of this rebuff, and openly abound his intention to make her suffer. His infatuation became a mania, and up to the very day on which the Countess told the story, he persisted in his appeals to the Princess. In person he had gone to her to plead his suit, on his knees, groveling at her feet. He went so far as to exclaim madly in the presence of the alarmed but relentless object of his love, that he would win her or turn the whole earth into everything unpleasant. So it was that the Princess of Grouse-Dark, erstwhile Miss Guggen's locker, was being dragged through the most unhappy affairs that ever beset a sovereign. Within a month she was to sign away two-thirds of her domain, transforming multitudes of her beloved and loving people into subjects of the hated ex-fane, or to sell herself, body and soul, to a loathsome bitter in the guise of a suitor. And with all this confronting her, she had come to the realization of a truth so sad and distracting that it was breaking her tortured heart. She was in love with no royal prince. Of this, however, the Countess knew nothing, so Laurie had one great secret to cherish alone. Has she chosen the course she will pursue? asked Laurie, as the Countess concluded her story. Isis face was turned away. She cannot decide. We have wept together over this dreadful, this horrible thing. We do not know what it means to all of us, Mr. Laurie. We love her, and there is not one in our land who would sacrifice her to save this territory. As for Gabriel, Grouse-Dark would kill her before she should go to him. Still, she cannot let herself sacrifice those northern subjects when by a single act she can save them. You see, the Princess has not forgotten that her father brought this war upon the people, and she feels at her duty to pay the penalty of his error, whatever the cost. Is there no other to whom she can turn? No other course? asked Laurie. There is none who would assist us, bankrupt as we are. There is a question I want to ask, Mr. Laurie. Please look at me. Do not stare at the fountain all the time. Why have you come to Edelweiss? She asked the question so boldly that his startled embarrassment was an unspoken confession. He calmed himself and hesitated long before answering, weighing his reply. She sat close beside him, her clear gray eyes reading him like a book. I came to see a Miss Guganslocker, he answered at last. For what purpose? There must have been an urgent cause to bring you so far. You are not an American banker? I had intended to ask her to be my wife. He said, knowing that secrecy was useless and seeing a faint hope. You did not find Miss Guganslocker. No, I have not found her. And are you going home disappointed, Mr. Laurie, because she is not here? I leave the answer to your tender imagination. There was a long pause. May I ask when you expect to leave Grouse-Dark? She asked somewhat timidly. Why do you wish to know? he asked in turn. Because I know how hopeless your quest has been. You have found Miss Guganslocker, but she is held behind a wall so strong and impregnable that you cannot reach her with the question you came to ask. You have come to that wall, and now you must turn back. I have asked how soon? Not until your princess bids me to take up my load and go. You see, my lady, I love to sit beneath the shadow of the wall you describe. It will require a royal edict to compel me to abandon my position. You cannot expect the princess to drive you from her country. You who have done so much for her. You must go, Mr. Laurie, without her bidding. I must. Yes, for your presence outside that wall may make the imprisonment all the more unendurable for the one your love cannot reach. Do you understand me? Has the one behind the wall instructed you to say this to me? he asked miserably. She has not. I do not know her heart, but I am a woman and have a woman's foresight. If you wish to be kind and good to her, go. I cannot, he exclaimed, his pent feelings bursting forth. I cannot go. You will not be so selfish and so cruel as to increase the horror of the wreck that is sure to come, she said, drawing back. You know, Countess, of the life-saving crews who draw from the wrecks of ships lives that were hopelessly lost? There is to be a wreck here. Is there to be a lifesaver? When the night is darkest, the sea wildest, when hope is gone, is not that the time when rescue is most precious? Tell me, you who know all there is of this approaching disaster. I cannot command you to leave Edelweiss. I can only tell you that you will have something to answer for if you stay, said the Countess. Will you help me if I show to you that I can reach the wreck and save the one who clings to it despairingly? he asked, smiling, suddenly calm and confident. Willingly, for I love the one who is going down in the sea. I have spoken to you seriously, though, and I trust you will not misunderstand me.  You could stay here forever so far as I am concerned. He thought long and intently over what she had said as he smoked his cigar on the Great Balcony that night. In his heart he knew he was adding horror, but that persistent hope of the lifesaver came up fresh and strong to combat the argument. He saw in one moment the vast chasm between the man and the princess. In the next he laughed at the puny space. Down on the promenade he could see the figures of men and women strolling in the moonlight. To his ears came the occasional laugh of a man, the silvery gurgle of a woman, the royal military band was playing in the stand near the edge of the Great Circle. There was gaiety, comfort, charm, and security about everything that came to his eyes and ears. Was it possible that this peace, unruffled, was so near its end? He smiled as he heard Harry Angish laugh gaily in his good old way, his ringing tones mingling with a woman's. There was no trouble in the hearts of the Countess and his blith comrade. Behind him rose the grim castle walls, from the windows of which, here and there, gleamed the lights of the night. Where was she? He had seen her in the afternoon, and had talked with her, had walked with her. Their conversation had been bright but of the commonplace kind. She had said nothing to indicate that she remembered the hour spent beside his couch a day or so before. He had uttered none of the words that struggled to rush from his lips, the questions, the pleadings, the vows. Where was she now? Not in that gay crowd below, for he had scanned every figure with the hawk's eye. Closeted again, no doubt, with her ministers, wearying her tired brain, her brave heart into fatigue without rest. Her court still trembled with the excitement of the daring attempt of the abductors and their swift punishment. Functionaries flocked to Edelweiss to inquire after the welfare of the Princess, and indignation was at the highest pitch. There were theories innumerable as to the identity of the arch-conspirator. Baron Denglos was at sea completely. He cursed himself and everybody else for the hasty and ill-timed execution of the hirelings. It was quite evident that the buzzing wonder and intense feeling of the people had, for the moment, driven out all thought of the coming day of judgment and its bitter atonement for all gross dark. Today the castle was full of the nobility, drawn to its walls by the news that had startled them beyond all expression. The police were at work, the military trembled with rage, the people clamored for the apprehension of the man who had been the instigator of this audacity. The general belief was that some brigand chief from the south had planned the great theft for the purpose of securing a fabulous ransom. Grenfell Lorry had an astonishing theory in his mind, and the more he thought it over, the more firmly it was embedded. The warm blue coils from the cigar raffed it away into the night, carrying with them a myriad of tangled thoughts of her, of Axfane, of the abductor, of himself, of everything. A light step on the stone floor of the shadowy balcony attracted his attention. He turned his head and saw the Princess Yativa. She was walking slowly toward the balustrade, not aware of his presence. There was no covering for the dark hair, no wrap about the white shoulders. She wore an exquisite gown of white, shimmering with the reflections from the moon that scaled the mountaintop. She stood at the balustrade, her hands clasping a bouquet of red roses, her chin lifted, her eyes gazing toward the mountain's crest, the prettiest picture he had ever seen. The strange dizziness of love overpowered him. His hungry eyes glanced upward towards the sky, which she was blessing with her gaze, and beheld another picture, gloomy, grim, cheerless. Against the moonlit screen of the universe clung the black tower of that faraway monastery in the clouds, the home of the monks of St. Valentine. Out of the world, above the world, a part of the sky itself, it stood like the specter of a sentinel whose ghostly guardianship appalled and yet soothed. He could not, would not move. To have done so meant the desecration of a picture so delicate that a breath upon its surface would have swept it forever from the vision. How long he reveled in the glory of the picture he knew not, Ford was as if he looked from a dream. At last he saw her look down upon the roses, lift them slowly, and drop them over the rail. They fell to the ground below. He thought he understood the gift of a prince despised. They were not twenty feet apart. He advanced to her side, his hat in one hand, his stick, the one that felt the Viennese trembling in the other. I did not know you were here, she exclaimed, in half frightened amazement. I left my ladies inside. He was standing beside her, looking down into the eyes. And I am richer because of your ignorance, he said softly. I have seen a picture that shall never leave my memory, never. Its beauty enthralled and raptured. Then I saw the drama of the roses. Ah, your highness, the crown is not always a mask. The roses were, were of no consequence, she faltered. I have heard how you stand between two suitors and that wretched treaty. My heart has ached to tell you how I pity you. It is not pity I need, but courage. Pity will not aid me in my duty, Mr. Lorry. It stands plainly before me, this duty, but I have not the courage to take it up and place it about my neck forever. You do not, cannot love this Lawrence, he asked. Love him, she cried. Ah, I forget, you do not know him. Yet I shall doubtless be his wife. There was an eternity of despair in that low, steady voice. You shall not, I swear you shall not. Oh, he is a prince. I must accept the offer that means salvation to Grouse Dark. Why do you make it harder with torture which you think is kindness? Listen to me. Next week I am to give my answer. He will be here in the castle. My father brought this calamity upon Grouse Dark. I must lift it from the people. What has my happiness to do with it? Her sudden strength silenced him, crushed him with the real awakening of helplessness. He stood beside her, looking up at the cold monastery, strangely conscious that she was gazing toward the same dizzy height. It looked so peaceful up there, she said at last. But so cold and cheerless, he added, drearily. There was another long silence in which two hearts communed through the medium of that faraway sentinel. They have not discovered a clue to the chief abductor, have they? He asked, in an effort to return to his proper sphere. Baron Denglas believes he has a clue, a meager and unsatisfactory one, he admits, and today sent officers to Gangluk to investigate the actions of a strange man who was their last week, a man who styled himself the count of Arabazon and who claimed to be of Vienna. Some Austrians have been hunting stags and bears in the North, however, and it is possible he is one of them. She spoke slowly, her eyes still bent on the home of the monks. Your Highness, I have a theory, a bold and perhaps a criminal theory, but you will allow me to tell you why I am possessed of it. I am aware that there is a Prince Gabriel. It is my opinion that no Viennese is guilty, nor are the brigands to be accused of this masterpiece in crime. Have you thought how far a man may go to obtain his heart's desire? She looked at him instantly, her eyes wide, with growing comprehension, the solution to the mystery darting into her mind like a flash. You mean—she began stopping, as if afraid to voice the suspicion—that Prince Gabriel is the man who bought your guards and hired ghettos and Ostrom to carry you to the place where he could own you whether you would or know, said Loi. But he could never have forced me to marry him, and I should sooner or later have exposed him. She whispered argumentatively, he could not expect me to be silent and submit to a marriage under such circumstances. He knows that I would denounce him even at the altar. You do not appreciate my estimate of that, gentlemen. What is to become of me, she almost sobbed, in an anguish of fear. I see now, I see plainly, it was Gabriel, and he would have done as you say. A shutter ran through her figure and he tenderly whispered in her ear. The dangerous past he can do no more, Your Highness. Were I positive that he is the man, and I believe he is, I would hunt him down this night.  I am not afraid, she murmured. Because I am here, he asked, bending nearer. Because God can bliss with the same hand that punishes, she answered enigmatically, lifting her lashes again, and looking into his eyes with a love at last unmasked. He gives me a man to love, and denies me happiness. He makes of me a woman, but he does not unmake me a princess.  More than ever I thank you for coming into my life.  I only ask, he began eagerly, but she interrupted. You should not ask anything, for I have said I cannot pay. I owe to you all I have, but cannot pay the debt. I shall not again forget, he murmured.  You may say it is wealth, but I shall call it poverty," she said, after they had watched the black monastery cut a square corner from the moon's circle. Tomorrow, if you will be so kind. Perhaps I may be poorer after I have saved Grouse-Dark, she said. I would to God I could save you from that, he said. I would to God you could, she said. Her manner changed suddenly. She laughed gaily, turning a light face to his. I hear your friends laugh out there in the darkness. It is delightfully infectious. A load of the throne room. This is the throne room. A load! The Princess Yatiev paused before two massive doors. It was the next afternoon, and she had already shown him the palace of a queen, the hovel of a pauper. Through the afternoon, not one word other than those which might have passed between good friends escaped the lips of either. He was all-interest, she, all-graciousness. A load, the sturdy guard, swung open the doors, drew the curtain, and stood aside for them to pass. Into the quiet hall she led him, a princess in a gown of grey, a courtier in tweeds. Inside the doors he paused. "'And I thought you were Miss Guggen's locker,' he said. She laughed with the glee of a child who has charmed and delighted through surprise. "'Am I not a feeble knight to sit on that throne and rule all that comes within its reach?' She directed his attention to the throne at the opposite end of the hall. From its seat I calmly instruct grey-haired statesmen, weigh their wisdom and pass upon it, as if I were Demosthenes, challenge the evils that may drive monarchs mad, and wonder if my crown is on straight. "'Let me be ambassador from the United States and kneel at the throne, Your Highness.' "'I could not engage in a jest with the crown my ancestors wore, Mr. Lorry. It is sacred, thou thoughtless American. Come, we will draw nearer, that you may see the beauty of the workmanship in that great old chair.' They stood at the base of the low, velveted stage on which stood the chair, with its high back, its massive arms and legs, a shimmer in the light from the lofty windows. It was of gold, inlaid with precious stones, diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and other wondrous jewels, a relic of ancient groush-dark. "'I never sit in the centre, always at one side or the other, usually leaning my elbow on the arm. You see, the discussions are generally so long and dreary that I become fatigued. One time, I am ashamed to confess it, I went to sleep on the throne. That was long ago. I managed to keep awake very well of late. Do you like my throne-room?' "'And I think that it is yours.' "'It is this room that gives me the right to be hailed with Long Live the Princess, not with campaign-yells and Hurrah for your Teeve. How does that sound?' "'Hurrah for your Teeve!' she was laughing merrily.' "'Don't say it. It sounds sacrilegious, revolting.' "'For over three years, since I was eighteen, I have been supreme in that chair.  How often I begged him to sit down with me. There was so much room, and he certainly must have grown tired of standing. One time I cried because he frowned at me when I persisted in the presence of a great assemblage of nobles from Dorsburgen. It seems that it was a most important audience that I was granting, but I thought more of my Uncle's tired old legs. I remember saying, through my sobbers of mortification, that I would have him beheaded. You would guess whether that startling threat created consternation or mirth. "'What a whimsical little princess you must have been, weeping and pouting and going to sleep!' he laughed. And how sedate and wise you have become. "'Thank you. How very nice you are. I have felt all along that someone would discern my effort to be dignified and sedate. They say I am wise and good and gracious, but that is to be expected. They said that of sovereigns as far back as the deluge I've heard. "'Would you really like to see me in that old chair?' she asked. "'Ah, you are still a woman,' he said, smiling at her pretty vanity. Nothing could impress me more pleasantly.'   He involuntarily placed a foot upon the bottom as if to spring to her side. "'You must not come up here,' she cried, shrinking back, her hands extended in fluttering remonstrance. I cannot permit that at all.' "'I beg your pardon,' he cried. That is all the humble plebeian can say, that I may be more completely under this fairy spell. Precast about yourself the robe of rank and take up the scepter.  She hesitated for a moment, a perplexed frown crossing her brow. Then she jerked a rich robe from the back of the throne, and placed it about her shoulders as only a woman can. Taking up the scepter she stood before the great chair, and, with a smile on her lips, held it above his head, saying softly, "'Growstark welcomes the American Prince.' He sank to his knee before the real princess, kissed the hem of her robe, and arose with face pallid. The chasm was now endless in its immensity. The princess gingerly seated herself on the throne, placed her elbow on the broad arm, her white chin in her hand, and tranquilly surveyed the voiceless American Prince. "'You have not said thank you,' she said finally, her eyes wavering beneath his steady gaze. "'I am only thinking how easy it would be to cross the gulf that lies between us. With two movements of my body I can place it before you. With a third I can be sitting at your side. It is not so difficult after all,' he said, hungrily eyeing the broad chair. "'No man, unless a prince, ever sat upon this throne,' she said. "'You have called me a prince.' "'Oh, I gested,' she cried quickly, comprehending his intention. "'I forbid you.' The command came too late, for he was beside her on the throne of Growshdark.  "'Do you know what you have done?' she whispered miserably. "'You serped the throne,' he replied, assuming an ease and complacence he did not feel. Truly he was guilty of unprecedented presumption. "'You have desecrated. Desecrated. Do you hear?' she went on, paying no attention to his remark. "'Peckerville, ah, your Highness, I delight in my sin. For once I am a power, I speak from the throne. "'You will not have me abdicate in the zenith of my glory?  Had he been the possessor of a dangerous wound, as I am, and had he found himself so weak that he could stand no longer, I am sure he would have done as I have, sat down in preference to falling limp at your feet. "'You do not know how badly I am wounded,' he pleaded, with a subtlest double meaning. "'Why should you wound me?' she asked, plaintively. "'You have no right to treat the throne I occupy as a subject for pranks and indignities. I did not believe you could be so forgetful.' There was a proud and pitiful resentment in her voice that brought him to his senses at once. He had defiled her throne. In shame and humiliation he cried, "'I am a fool, an ingrate. You have been too gentle with me. For this despicable act of mine I cannot ask pardon, and it would be beneath you to grant it. I have hurt you, and I can never atone. I forgot how sacred is your throne. Let me depart in disgrace.' He stood erect, as if to forsake the throne he had stained. But she, swayed by a complete reversal of feeling, timidly, touched his arm. "'Stay. It is my throne after all. I shall divide it as well as the sin with you. Sit down again, I beg of you. For a brief spell I would rule beside a man who is fit to be a king, but who is a desecrator. There can be no harm, and no one shall be the wiser for this sentimental departure from royal custom. We are children, anyhow. Mere children. With an exclamation of delight he resumed his position beside her. His hand trembled as he took up hers to carry it to his lips.  She allowed her hand to lie limply in his, her head sinking to the back of the chair. When her hand was near his feverish lips, cool and white and trusting, he checked the upward progress. Slowly he raised his eyes to study her face, finding that hers were closed, the semblance of a smile touching her lips, as if they were in a happy dream. The lips. The lips. The lips. The madness of love rushed into his heart. The expectant hand was forgotten. His every hope and every desire measured themselves against his discretion as he looked upon the tempting face. Could he kiss those lips but once his life would be complete? With a start she opened her eyes, doubtless at the command of the masterful ones above. The eyes of blue met the eyes of grey in a short, sharp struggle, and the blue went down in surrender. His lips triumphed slowly, drawing closer and closer, as if restrained and impelled by the same emotion, arrogant love. Open your eyes, darling, he whispered, and she obeyed. Then their lips met, her first kiss of love. She trembled from head to foot, perfectly powerless beneath the spell. Again he kissed a princess on her throne.  Oh, my God! What have you done? she wailed. He staggered to his feet, dizzy with joy. Ha! cried a gruff voice from the doorway, and the guilty one's world to look upon the witness to their blissful crime. Inside the curtains, with carbine leveled at the head of the American, stood a load, the guard, his face distorted by rage. The princess screamed and leaped between Laurie and the threatening carbine. A load! she cried in frantic terror. He angrily cried out something in his native tongue, and she breathlessly, imploringly replied. Laurie did not understand their words, but he knew that she had saved him from death at the hand of her loyal, airing guard. A load! load! his gun bowed low, and turned his back upon the throne.  Her face the picture of combined agony and relief. She remembered the blighting kisses, and then the averted disaster. You—what did you say to him? he asked. I—I—Oh, I will not tell you! she cried. I beg of you. I told him that he was to—was to put down his gun. I know that, but why? he persisted.  How did you explain the—the—he hesitated, generously. I told him that I had not been—that I had not been— Say it. That I had not been offended, she gasped, standing stiff and straight, with eyes glued upon the obedient guard. You were not, he rapturously cried. I said it only to save your life, she cried, turning fiercely upon him. I shall never forgive you. Never! You must go. You must leave here at once. Do you hear? I cannot have you near me now. I cannot see you again. Oh, God! What have I given you the right to say of me? Stop! It is a sacredness. Yes, yes, I understand. I trust you, but you must go. Find some excuse to give your friend, and go to say, go now!  Without waiting to hear his remonstrance, if indeed he had the power to utter one, she glided swiftly towards the curtains, allowing him to follow at his will. Dazed and crushed at the sudden end to everything, he dragged his footsteps after. At the door she spoke in low, imperative tones to the tuitionless aload, who dropped to his knees and muttered a reverential response. As Laurie passed beneath the hands that held the curtain aside, he glanced at the face of the man who had been the witness to their weakness. He was looking straight ahead, and from his expression it could not have been detected that he knew there was a man on earth save himself. In the hall she turned to him, her face cold and pale. I have faithful guards about me now. A load has said he did not see you in the throne room.  By your command? By my request, I do not command my men to lie. Side by side they passed down the quiet hall, silent, thoughtful, the strain of death upon their hearts. I shall obey the only command you have given them. This day I leave the castle. You will let me come again? To see you? There can be no harm. No. You must leave Groush Stark at once," she interrupted, the tones low. I refuse to go. I shall remain in Adelweiss near you, just so long as I feel I may be of service to you. I cannot drive you out as I would a thief," she said pointedly. At the top of the broad staircase he held out his hand and murmured, Good-bye, your Highness. Good-bye," she said, simply, placing her hand in his after a moment's hesitation. Then she left him. An hour later the two Americans, one strangely subdued, the other curious, excited and impatient, stood before the castle waiting for the carriage. Count Helfont was with them, begging them to remain as he could see no reason for the sudden leave-taking. Laurie assured him that they had trespassed long enough on the court's hospitality and that he would feel much more comfortable at the hotel. Anguish looked narrowly at his friend's face, but said nothing. He was beginning to understand. Let us walk to the gates. The Count will oblige us by instructing the coachman to follow," said Laurie, eager to be off. Allow me to join you in the walk, gentlemen," said Count Casper, immediately instructing a lackey to send the carriage after them. He and Laurie walked on together, anguish lingering behind, having caught sight of the Countess Dagmar. That charming and unconventional piece of nobility promptly followed the Prime Minister's example and escorted the remaining guest to the gate. Far down the walk Laurie turned for a last glance at the castle, from which love had banished him. Yeteve was standing on the balcony, looking not at the monastery, but at the exile. She remained there long after the carriage had passed her gates, bearing the Americans swiftly over the White Castle Avenue, and there were tears in her eyes. End of Chapter 14 Chapter 15 of Grouse Dark This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Christine Blashford. Grouse Dark by George Bar McCutcheon. Chapter 15 The Betrothal Harry Anguish was a discreet, forbearing fellow. He did not demand a full explanation of his friend. There was enough natural wit in his merry-head to see that in connection with their departure there was something that would not admit of discussion, even by confidential friends. He shrewdly formed his own conclusions and held his peace. Nor did he betray surprise when Laurie informed him, in answer to a question, that he intended to remain in Edelweiss for some time, adding that he could not expect him to do likewise if he preferred to return to Paris. But Mr. Anguish preferred to remain in Edelweiss. Had not the Countess Dagmar told him she would always be happy to see him at the castle, and had he any reason to renounce its walls, and so it was that they tarried together. Laurie loitered aimlessly, moodily about the town, spending gloomy days and wretched nights. There was a reason that it were wisdom to fly, but a force stronger than reason held him in Edelweiss. He ventured several times to the castle wall, but turned back resolutely. There was hope in his breast that she might send for him. There was at least the possibility of seeing her should she ride through the streets. Anguish, on the other hand, visited the castle daily. He spent hours with the pretty Countess, undismayed by the noble moths that fluttered about her flame, and he was ever persistent, light-hearted, and gay. He brought to Laurie's ears all that he could learn from the princess, several times he had seen her and had spoken with her. She inquired casually after the health of his friend, but nothing more. From the Countess he ascertained that her highness was sleeping soundly, eating heartily, and apparently enjoying the best of spirits, information decidedly irritating to the one who received its second hand. They had been at the hotel for over a week when one afternoon Anguish rushed into the room out of breath and scarcely able to control his excitement. What's up, cried Laurie, has the Countess sacked you? Not on your coin, but something is up, and I am its discoverer. You remember what you said about suspecting Prince Gabriel of being the chief rascal in the abduction job? Well, my boy, I am now willing to stake my life that he is the man. The news-bearer sat down on the edge of the bed and drew the first long breath he had had in a long time. Why do you think so, demanded the other all interest? Heard him talking just now. I didn't know who the fellow was at first, but he was talking to some strange-looking soldiers as I passed. As soon as I heard his voice I knew he was Michael. There isn't any question about it, Laurie, I am positive. He did not observe me, but I suppose by this time he has learned that his little job was frustrated by two Americans who heard the plot near the castle gates. He has nerve to come here, hasn't he? If he is guilty, yes. Still, he may feel secure because he is a powerful prince and able to resent any accusation with a show of force. Where is he now? I left him there.  They hurried to the corridor which was swarming with men in strange uniforms. There were a few grouse-dark officers, but the majority of the buzzing conversationalists were dressed in a rich grey uniform. Who are these strangers? asked Laurie. Oh, I forgot to tell you. Prince Lorenz is also here, and these grey fellows are a part of his retinue. Lorenz has gone on to the castle. What's the matter? Laurie had turned pale and was reaching for the wall with unsteady hand. He has come for his answer, he said, slowly, painfully. That's right. I haven't thought of that. I hope she turns him down. Gabriel over Yonder, see those three fellows in blue? The middle one is the prince. Near the door leading to the piazza stood several men, grey and blue. The man designated as Gabriel was in the centre, talking gaily and somewhat loudly, puffing at a cigarette between sentences. He was not tall, but he was strongly and compactly built.  It was a pleasure-worn face, and Laurie shuddered as he thought of the princess in the power of this evil-looking wretch. They leisurely made their way to a spot near the talkers. There was no mistaking the voice. Prince Gabriel and Michael were one and the same, beyond all doubt. But how to prove it to the satisfaction of others? Skepticism would follow any attempt to proclaim the prince guilty, because his voice sounded like that of the chief conspirator. In a matter where whole nations were concerned, the gravest importance would be attached to the accusation of a ruler. Satisfying themselves as to the identity of that peculiar voice, the friends passed through to the piazza. What's to be done? asked Anguish, boiling over with excitement. We must go to Baron Dangloss, tell him of our positive discovery, and then consult Count Helfont. And her royal highness, of course. Yes, I suppose so, said Laurie, flicking the ashes from his cigar with a finger that was now steady. He was serving the princess again. They hurried to the tower, and were soon in the presence of the fierce little chief of police. Laurie had spent many hours with Dangloss of late, and they had become friends. His grim old face blanched perceptibly in the assertions of the young men. He shook his head despairingly. It may be as you say, gentlemen, but I am afraid we can do nothing. To charge a prince with such a crime, and on such evidence would be madness. I am of your belief, however. Prince Gabriel is the man I have suspected. Now I am convinced. Before we can do anything in such a grave matter, it will be necessary to consult the princess and her ministers. In case we conclude to accuse the prince of Dowsburgen, it must be after careful and judicious thought. There are many things to consider, gentlemen. For my part I would be overjoyed to seize the villain and to serve him as we did his tools, but my hands are tied, you see. I would suggest that you go at once to the princess and count Helfont, tell them of your suspicions. Not suspicions, my lord, facts, interrupted anguish. Well, then, facts, and ascertain how they feel about taking up a proposition that may mean war. May I ask you to come at once to me with their answer? It is possible that they will call for a consultation with the ministers, nobles, and high officers. Still, I fear they will be unwilling to risk much on the rather flimsy proof you can give. Gabriel is powerful and we do not seek a war with him. There is another foe for whom we are quietly wetting our swords. The significant remark caused both listeners to prick up their ears, but he disappointed their curiosity and they were left to speculate as to whom the other foe might be. Did he mean that Grausdark was secretly, slyly making ready to resist treaty or no treaty? It required prolonged urging on the part of anguish to persuade Laurie to accompany him to the castle, but it was determined to go before the princess with their tail who was eager, impatient to cross the distance that lay between the hotel and the forbidden grounds. They walked rapidly down Castle Avenue and were soon at the gates. The guard knew them and they were admitted without a word. As they hurried through the park, they saw many strange men in grey, gaudy uniforms, and it occurred to Laurie that their visit, no matter how great its importance, was ill- timed. Prince Lorenz was holding the center of the stage. Anguish, with his customary objections, and they proceeded toward the entrance. The guards of the princess saluted profoundly, while the minions of Lorenz stared with ill-bred wonder upon these two tall men from another world. It could be seen that the castle was a stare with excitement, subdued and pregnant with thriving hopes and fears. The nobility of Grausdark was there, the visitors of Axfane were being entertained. At the castle doors the two met their first obstacle, but they had anticipated its presence. Two guards halted them peremptorily. We must see her royal highness said anguish, but the men could not understand him. They stoically stood their ground shaking their heads. Let us find someone who can understand us, advised Laurie, and in a few moments they presented themselves before the guards, accompanied by a young nobleman with whom they had acquaintance. He succeeded in advancing them to the reception hall inside the doors, and found for them a servant who would carry a message to the princess if it were possible to gain her presence. The nobleman doubted very much, however, if the missive hastily written by Laurie could find its way to her, as she had never been so occupied as now. Laurie, in his brief note, prayed for a short audience for himself and Mr. Anguish, requesting that Count Helfont be present. He informed her that his mission was of the most imperative nature and that it related to a discovery made concerning the prince who had tried to abduct her. In conclusion he wrote that Baron Dangloss had required him to lay certain facts before her, and that he had come with no intention to annoy her. While they sat in the waiting room they saw, through the glass doors, dozens of richly attired men and women in the hall beyond. They were conversing animatidly, grouse-dark men and women with dejected faces, axphaniens with exultation glowing in every glance. Laurie's heart sank within him. It seemed hours before the servant returned to bid them follow him, then his blood leapt madly through veins that had been chilled and lifeless. He was to see her again. Their guide conducted them to a small anti-room where he left them. A few moments later the door opened and there swept quickly into the room the Count Hestagma, not the Princess. Her face was drawn with the trouble and sorrow she was trying so hard to conceal. Both men were on their feet in an instant, advancing to meet her. The Princess, is she ill? demanded Laurie. Not ill, but mad, I fear, answered she, giving a hand to each. Mr. Laurie, she bids me say to you that she cannot see you. She appreciates the importance of your mission and thanks you for the interest you have taken. Also, she authorises me to assure you that nothing can be done at present regarding the business on which you come. She refused to say anything about the Prince. The Prince said to her that she had been embarrassed on which you come. She refuses to see us, said he, slowly, his face whiter than ever. Nay, she begs that you will excuse her. Her highness is sorely worn and distressed today and I fear cannot endure all that is happening. She is apparently calm and composed, but I, who know her so well, can see the strain beneath. Surely she must see the urgency of quick action in this matter of ours, cried anguish half angrily. We are not dogs to be kicked out of the castle. We have a right to be treated fairly. We cannot censure the Princess, Harry, said Laurie calmly. We have come because we would befriend her and she sees fit to reject our good offices. There is but one thing left for us to do, depart as we came. But I don't like it a little bit, groud the other. If you only knew Mr. Anguish you would not be so harsh and unjust, remonstrated the lady warmly. Turning to Laurie she said, she asked me to hand you this and to bid you retain it as a token of her undying esteem. She handed him a small exquisite miniature of the Princess, framed in gold, inlaid with rubies. He took it dumbly in his fingers, but dared not look at the portrait it contained. With what might have seemed disrespect he dropped the treasure into his coat pocket. Tell her I shall always retain it as a token of her esteem," he said, and now may I ask whether she handed my note to her uncle the Count. The Countess blushed in the most unaccountable manner. Not while I was with her, she said, recovering the presence of mine she apparently had lost. She destroyed it, I presume, said he, laughing harshly. I saw her place it in her bosom, sir, and with the right hand cried the Countess, as if betraying a state secret.  Now see here, Laurie, don't begin to question the Countess's word.  I should be more than based to say falsely that she had done anything so absurd, said the Countess indignantly. Where is she now, asked Laurie? In her boudoir. The Prince Lorenz is with her, alone. What he cried jealousy darting had never known jealousy before. They are betrothed, said she, with an effort. There was a dead silence, broken by Laurie's deep groan as he turned and walked blindly to the opposite side of the room. He stopped in front of a huge painting and stared at it, but did not see a line or a tint. You don't mean to say she has accepted half-whispered anguish. Nothing less. Thank God you are only a Countess, he said tenderly. Why? Why? What difference can it make? I mean, why do you say that? Because you won't have to sell yourself at a sacrifice, he said foolishly. Laurie came back to them at this juncture, outwardly calm and deliberate. Tell us about it, pray. We had guessed as much. Out there are his people, the wretches, she cried vindictively, her pretty face in a helpless frown.  He came and knelt in the audience chamber. All Grausdach had implored her to refuse the hated offer, but she bade him rise and, if ever known, grows out of that decision, she is determined to save for us what her father's folly lost. To do this she becomes the bride of a vile wretch, a man who soils her pure nature when he thinks of her. Oh, we sought to dissuade her, we begged, we entreated, but without avail. She will not sacrifice one foot of Grausdach to save herself. See the triumphant smiles on their faces, the brutes. She pointed maliciously to the chattering visitors in the hall. Already they think the castle's theirs. The marriage desired but we could not make her see it so. Is the day set? asked Laurie bravely, after a moment's silent inspection of the dark-browed victors. Yes, and there is to be no delay. The marriage contract has already been signed. The date is November the 20th, the day on which we are to account to Bola Ros for our war debt. The old Prince's wedding gift to Grausdach is to be a document favouring us with a ten-years extension, she said scornfully. And where is she to live? Nothing. Just contemplate our court. Overrun with those axe-themed dogs. Ah, she has wounded Grausdach more than she has helped her. There was nothing more to be said or done, so after a few moments the Americans took their departure. The Countess bade them farewell saying that she must return to the Princess. I'll see you to-morrow, said Anguish, with rare assurance, and the air of an old and indispensable friend. And you, Mr. Laurie, she said curiously. I am very much through the door ahead of them. I know why you do not come.  One cannot be a man and a Prince at the same time I fancy, he said bitterly. Nor can one be a princess and a woman. Laurie recalled the conversation in the sick-room two weeks before and smiled ironically. The friendly girl left them at the door and they passed out of the castle. The Prince looked pleased, then he instinctively glanced toward the castle. The Princess is at her window he cried, clutching Laurie's arm and pointing back, but the other refused to turn, walking on blindly. You ought not to have acted like that, said Anguish a few moments later. She saw me call your attention to her and she saw you refused to look back. I don't think that you should have hurt her. Laurie did not respond and there was you immediately. Haven't you had enough of the place? I don't care a whoop for the place. You see it's this way. I'm just as hard hit as you and it is not a princess that I have to contend with. You mean that you're in love with the Countess? Emphatically. I'm sorry for you. Think she'll turn me down unless you buy a title of one of these miserable council dukes. She is not as avaricious as the Count's and Duke's all wager. She cares nothing for your money. While she's as poor as a church mouse said the other doggedly. The Countess poor. How do you know? I asked her one day and she told me all about it said Anguish. End of Chapter 15 of Grouse Stark. This is Bama Katchan Chapter 16 A Clash and Its Result I feel like spending the rest of my days in that monastery up there, said Laurie after dinner that evening. They were strolling about the town. One was determined to leave the city, the other firm in his resolve to stay. The latter won the day when he shrewdly, if explosively, reminded the former that it was their duty as men to stay and protect the princess from the machinations of Gabriel, that nave of purgatory. He would throw down his arms and abandon the field to superior odds. His presumption in aspiring for the hand of a princess began to touch his sense of humor, and he laughed not very merrily it is true, but long and loudly at his folly. At first he cursed the world and everyone in it, giving up in despair, but later he cursed only himself. Yet as he despaired and scoffed, he felt within himself an ever-present hope that luck might be sought to despoil and he might reasonably be expected to persevere. He agreed to linger in Edelweiss knowing that each day would add pain to the torture he was already suffering, his sole object being he convinced himself to frustrate Gabriel's evil plans. Returning late in the evening from their stroll they entered a café celebrated in Edelweiss. In all his life Laurie had never known the loneliness that makes death welcome. The café near her who dwelt inside those castle walls he scoffed and grieved but grieved the more. The café was crowded with men and women in a far corner sat a party of Axvay nobles, their prince and most democratic fellow at the head of a long table. There were songs, jests and boisterous laughter. The celebration grew wilder boy. His smooth face was flushed and there was about him an air of dissipation that suggested depravity in its advanced stage. The face that might have been handsome was the reflection of a rue dashing devilish. He was fair-haired and tall, taller than his companions by half ahead. With reckless abandon he drank and sang bright. Without a moment's hesitation the prince sprang to his feet, held his glass aloft and cried, here's to the fairest of the fair sweet yetive so hard to win too good to lose she loves me God bless her heart and I love her God bless my heart too. For each kiss from her wondrous lips I shall credit myself with one thousand gavos. That is the price of a kiss. I'll give my heart arched and dry from the sippings I have had. I'll sell them all at a bargain. Alas she has not yet kissed me. Laurie's heart bounded with joy though his hands were clenched in rage.  To-morrow I shall taste what no other man has touched what all men have coveted. And I'll be generous and wasted for the sake of my friends lucky dogs drink to my princess. Bravo cried the others and the glasses were raised to lip. A chair was overturned. The form of a man landed suddenly at the side of the prince and a rough hand dashed the glass from his fingers, the contents flying over his immaculate English evening dress. Don't you dare to drink that toast? cried a voice in his astonished ear, a voice speaking in excited German. I'm placing amazement. The other members of his party stood as if spellbound. I mean that you speak of the princess of Graustach. Do you understand that, you miserable cur? Oh! screamed the prince, convulsed with rage, starting back and instinctively reaching for the sword he did not carry. You shall pay for this. I will teach you to interfere. I'll insult you more decidedly just to avoid an uproar. The stupefied Axpanians regained their senses, and a general assault was made upon the hot-headed American. He knocked another down, Harry anguished coming to his assistance with several savage blows, after which the Graustach spectators and the waiters interfered. It was all over in an instant, yet a sensation that would live in the gossip of generations had been created. A prince of the realm had been brutally assaulted. He was killed to his shirt front. For some moments he stood panting, glaring at Laurie's mocking face. I am Lorenz of Axpan, sir," he said at last, his voice quivering with suppressed anger.  Anguished, pale, and very much concerned, dragged him away, the prince detected something like triumphant joy in his eyes. "'Good Lord, Laurie, this means a duel. Don't you know that?' cried he as they started upstairs.  "'This is horrible, horrible. Let me square it up some way if,' began the alarmed anguish. "'Square it up. Look here, he pulls over our destinies. I'll take my chances with pistols, and now let me tell you one thing, my boy. He'll never live to touch his lips to hers, nor will there be a royal wedding. She cannot marry a dead man.' He was beside himself with excitement, and it was fully half an hour before anguish could bring him to a sensible discussion of the affair. Gradually he became cool, anguish admitted two well-dressed, black-bearded men, both of whom had sat at the prince's table in the cafe. They introduced themselves as the Duke of Ms. Rocks and Colonel Attauborn. Their visit was brief, formal, and conclusive. "'We understand that you are persons of rank in your own America,' said the Duke of Ms. Rocks after a few moments. "'We are sons of businessmen,' responded Mr. Anguish. "'Now what have we to settle, gentlemen?' The detail of weapons.' When anguish announced that his principal chose pistols, a strange gleam crept into the eyes of the Axevanians, and they seemed satisfied. Colonel Attauborn acted as interpreter during this short but very important interview, which was carried on in the Axevan language. Laurie sat on the windowsill steadfastly gazing into the night. The visitors departed soon, and the next morning in the valley beyond the castle, two miles from town, there was no law prohibiting jewels in grouse dark. "'Well, you're in for it,' old man said anguish gloomily, his chin in his hands as he fastened melancholy eyes upon his friend. "'Don't worry about me, Harry, there's only one way for this thing to end. His royal highness is doomed.' Laurie spoke with the earnestness and conviction of one who is permitted to see into the future. calmly he gloried in the good fortune which had presented itself. One of these letters was addressed to his mother, another to the father of Prince Lorenz, and the last to the princess of grouse dark. To the latter he wrote much that did not appear in the epistles directed to the others. Anguish had been in his room more than an hour and had frequently called to his friend and begged him to secure what rest he could in order that their nerves might be steady in the morning, but it was not until after midnight that the dualists sealed letters to you, Harry, you must see that they start on their way to-morrow. Then he went to bed and to sleep. At six his second, who had slept but little, called him. They dressed hurriedly and prepared for the ride to the valley. Their own new English bulldog revolvers were to serve as weapons in the coming combat and a carriage was to be in waiting for them in a side street at seven o'clock. Before leaving their room they heard evidences of commotion in the hotel and were apprehensive of the situation. There was a confusion of voices, the sound of rushing feet, the banging of doors, the noise increasing as the two men stepped into the open hall. They were amazed to see half-dressed men and women standing or running about the halls, intense excitement in their faces and in their actions. White, uniformed policemen were flocking into the corridors. Soldiers, coatless and hatless, fresh from their beds came dashing upon the scene. They were excited cries, angry cries. It can't be a fire, look. The door to that room down there seems to be the centre of attraction. Hold on, don't go over there, Laurie. There may be something to unnerve you, and that must not happen now. Let us go down this stairway. It leads to a side entrance, I think. They were half-way down the stairs when the thunder of rushing feet in the hall above came to their ears, causing them to hesitate between curiosity appeared at the head of the stairs. Upon seeing the Americans, they stopped and turned as if to oppose a foe approaching from the opposite direction. Barron Dangloss separated himself from the white coats above and called to the men below. In alarm they started for the street door. He was with them in an instant, his usually red face changing from white to purple, his exercised darting first towards the group above, and then toward the bewildered Americans. What's the matter demanded Laurie. There, see, cried Dangloss, and even as he spoke a little, the police augmented by a few soldiers, struggling against a howling enraged mass of Axvanians. Dangloss dragged his reluctant charges through a small door, and they found themselves in the baggage room of the hotel. Despite their queries, he offered no explanation, but rushed them along, passing out of the opposite door, down a short stairway and into a side street. A half-dozen police guards were awaiting them, and before they could catch the faintest idea of what it all meant, they were running with the under-does-this-mean panted Laurie, attempting to slacken the pace. He and Anglish were just beginning to regain their senses. Do not stop, do not stop, wheezed Dangloss. You must get to a place of safety. We cannot prevent something dreadful happening if you are caught. If we are caught, cried Anglish, why? What have we done? Unhand me, barren Dangloss, this is an outrage, shouted Laurie. For God's sake be calm. We are befriending you. When we reach the prison gates, angry, impatient, fatigued. Is this a plan to prevent the dual, demanded Laurie, turning upon the chief, who had dropped limply into a chair, and was mopping his brow? When he could find his breath enough to answer, Dangloss did so, and he might as well have thrown a bombshell at their feet. There will be no dual. Prince Lorenz is dead. Dead, gasped the others. Found dead in his bed, stabbed to the heart, exclaimed the chief. We have saved you just before six o'clock, Ms. Rox had gone to the prince's room to prepare him for the dual. The door was closed, but unlocked, as he found after repeated knockings. Lorenz was lying on the bed, undressed, and covered with blood. The horrified Duke made a hasty examination, and found that he was dead. A dagger had been driven to his heart as he slept. The hotel was aroused, the police called, and the excitement was at its highest pitch when the two friends came from their room a few minutes after six. But what have we to do with this criminal's? asked Laurie, a feeling of cruel gladness growing out of the knowledge that Lorenz was dead and that the princess was freed from her compact. My friend, said Dangloss slowly, you are accused of the murder. Laurie was too much stunned to be angry, too weak to protest. For some moments after the blow fell he and Anguish were speechless. Then came the protestations, the rage and the threats, through all of which Dangloss sat calmly. Finally he sought to quiet them, partially succeeding. Mr. Anguish is strong against you, but you shall not be unjustly treated. You are not a prisoner as yet. In Graustach a man who is accused of murder, and who was not seen by anyone to commit the crime, cannot be legally arrested until an accuser shall go before the princess, who is also high priestess, and swear on his life that he knows the guilty man. The man who so accuses agrees to forfeit his own life in case the other is proved innocent. If you are to be charged with the murder of the prince, someone must go before the cause.  Lorenz's friends would have torn you to pieces had we not found you first. You are not prisoners, and you may depart if you think it wise. But, my God, how can they accuse me? I knew nothing of the murder until I reached this place, cried Laurie, stopping short in his restless walk before the little baron.  I may have my views, but I am not willing to take oath before her royal highness. Listen, you were heard to say you would kill him, you began the fight, you were the aggressor, and there was no one else on earth, it is said, who could have wished to murder him. The man who did the stabbing entered the room through the hall door and left by the same. There are drops of blood in the carpet, leading direct to your door.  When we opened the door you were gone, then came the search, the fight at the head of the stairs, and the race to the prison. The reason I saved you from that mob should be plain to you.  I have done all that I can gentlemen to protect you in return. It means death to you if you fall into the hands of his followers just now. A few hours of anxiety in Dangloss's voice, and there was honesty in his keen old eyes. His charges now saw the situation clearly, and apologized warmly for the words they had uttered under the pressure of somewhat extenuating circumstances. They expressed a willingness to remain in the prison until the excitement abated, or until someone swore his life against the supposed murderer. They were virtually prisoners, and they knew it well. Furthermore, they could see that Baron Dangloss did not realise that Lady was her rational thought. She started glittering with joyustation, like an old throw dust in the ground. She suspected the exact condition of her. This dressed her withlahou led her to take her princess from her home in her marital home, Groustach. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Christine Blashford. Groustach by George Barr McCutcheon. Chapter 17. In the Tower. The two captives, who were not prisoners, were so dazed by the unexpected events of the morning that they did not realise the vast seriousness of the situation for hours. Then it dawned upon them that appearances were really against them, and that they were alone in a land far beyond the reach of help from home. One circumstance puzzled them with its damning mystery. How came the bloodstains upon the door-knob? Dangloss courteously discussed this strange and unfortunate feature with them, but with ill-concealed skepticism. It was evident that his mind was clear in regard to the whole affair. Anguish was of the opinion that the real murderer had stained the knob intentionally, aiming to cast suspicion on the man who had been challenged. The assassin had an object in leaving those convicting finger-marks where they would do the most damage. He either desired the arrest and death of the American, or hoped that his own guilt would escape attention through the misleading evidence. Laurie held from his deductions that the crime had been committed by a fanatic who loved his sovereign too devotedly to see her wedded to Lorenz. Then why should he wantonly cast guilt upon the man who had been her protector, objected Dangloss.  They reported that the Avengers had been quelled for the time being, but that a deputation had already started for the castle to lay the matter before the princess. Officers had searched the rooms of the Americans for bloodstains, but had found no sign of them. Did you find bloody water in which hands had been washed, asked Anguish? No, responded one of the guards. There was nothing to be found in the bowls and jars except soapy water. There is not a bloodstain in the room, Captain. Let's shake your theory a little, eh? cried Anguish triumphantly. Examine Mr. Laurie's hands and see if there is blood upon them. Laurie's hands were white and uncontaminated. Dangloss wore a pucker on his blow. Shortly afterward a crowd of Axpane men came to the prison gates and demanded the person of Grenfell Laurie departing after an ugly show of rage. Curious Adelweiss citizens stood afar off, watching the walls and windows eagerly. This may cost Adelweiss a great deal of trouble, gentlemen, but there is more happiness here this morning than the city has known in months. Everybody believes you killed him, Mr. Laurie, but they all love you for the deed," said Dangloss, returning at noon from a visit to the hotel, and a ride through the streets. The Prince's friends have been at the castle since nine o'clock, and I am of the opinion that they are having a hard time with the High Priestess. God bless her, cried Laurie. The town is crazy with excitement. Messengers have been sent to Old Prince Bola-Roz to inform him of the murder, and to urge him to hasten hither, where he may fully enjoy the vengeance that is to be weaped upon his son Slayer. I have not seen a wilder time in Adelweiss since the close of this siege fifteen years ago. By my soul you are in a bad boxer.  Your life outside these walls would not be worth a snap of the fingers. Captain Quinox, of the Princess's bodyguard, accompanied by a half-dozen of his men, rode up to the prison gates about two o'clock, and was promptly admitted. The young captain was in sore distress. The Duke of Mizz-Rox has sworn that you are the murderer, Mr. Laurie, and stakes his life, said he, after greetings. Her Highness has just placed in my hands an order for your arrest as the assassin of Prince Lorenz. Laurie turned as pale as death. You—you don't mean to say that she has signed a warrant, that she believes me guilty, he cried, aghast. She has signed the warrant, but very much against her inclination. Count Helfont informed me that she pleaded and argued with the Duke for hours, seeking to avert the act which is bound to give pain to all of us. He was obdurate, and threatened to carry complaint to Bolas, who would instantly demand satisfaction. As the Duke is willing to die, if you are proved innocent, there was no other course left for her than to dictate and sign this royal decree. Captain Dangloss, I am instructed to give you these papers. One is the warrant for Mr. Laurie's arrest. The other orders you to assume charge of him, and to place him in confinement until the day of trial. While Quinox was making this statement, the accused stood with bowed head and to robless heart. He did not see the Captain's hand tremble as he passed the documents to Dangloss, nor did he hear the unhappy sigh that came from the latter's lips. Anguish, fiery and impulsive was not to be subdued. Is there no warrant for my arrest, he demanded? There is not. You are at liberty to go, sir," responded Quinox. I'd like to know why there isn't. I am just as guilty as Laurie. The Duke charges the crown to but one of you. Baron Dangloss, will you read the warrant? The old chief read the decree of the princess slowly and impressively. It was as follows. Jackot, Duke of Mizzrocks, before his god and on his life, swears that Grenfell Laurie did foully, maliciously and designedly slay Lorenz, Prince of Axvane, on the twentieth day of October in the year of our lord, and in the city of Abelweiss, Grouse-Dark. It is therefore my decree that Grenfell Laurie be declared murderer of Lorenz, Prince of Axvane, until he be proved innocent, in which instance his accuser, Jackot, Duke of Mizzrocks, shall forfeit his life, according to the law of this land, providing penalty for false witness, and by which he, himself, has sworn to abide faithfully. Signed Yetive There was silence for some moments, broken by the dreary tones of the accused. What chance have I to prove my innocence, he asked hopelessly. The same opportunity that he has to prove your guilt, the Duke must, according to our law, prove you guilty beyond all doubt, spoke the young captain. When am I to be tried? Here is my order from the princess, said Dangloss, glancing over the other paper. It says that I am to confine you securely, and to produce you before the tribunal on the twenty-sixth day of October. A week! That is a long time, said Laurie, may I have permission to see the signature affixed to those papers? Dangloss handed them to him. He glanced at the name he loved, written by the hand he had kissed, now signing away his life, perhaps. A mist came over his eyes, and a strange joy filled his soul. The hand that signed the name had trembled in doing so, had trembled pitifully. The heart had not guided the fingers. I am your prisoner, Captain Dangloss. Do with me as you will, he said simply. I regret that I am obliged to place you in a cell, sir, and under guard. Believe me, I am sorry this happened. I am your friend, said the old man gloomily. And I cried Quinox. But what is to become of me, cried poor anguish, half in tears?  Be cool, Harry, and it will come out right. He has no proof, you know, said the other, wringing his friend's hand. But I'll have to stay here, too.  You are to have a guard of six men while you are in Adelweiss, Mr. Anguish. Those are the instructions of the princess. I do not believe the scoundrels, I mean the Axe-Fane nobles, will molest you if you do not cross them. When you are ready to go to your hotel, I will accompany you. Half an hour later, Laurie was in a cell from which there could be no escape, while Anguish was riding toward the hotel, surrounded by grouse-dark soldiers. He had sworn to his friend that he would unearth the murderer if it lay within the power of man. Captain Dangloss heard the oath and smiled, sadly. At the castle there was depression and relief, grief, and joy. The royal family, the nobility, even the servants, soldiers, and attendants rejoiced in the stroke that had saved the princess from her fate worse than death. Her preserver's misfortune was deplored deeply, expressions of sympathy were whispered among them all high and low. The Axe-Fanians were detested, the prince most of all, and the crime had come as a joy instead of a shock. There were, of course, serious complications for the future, involving ugly conditions that were bound to force themselves upon the land.  Grouse-dark would certainly be asked to produce the man who killed the heir to the throne of Axe-Fane, or to make reparation, bloody reparation, no doubt. In the privacy of her room the stricken princess collapsed from the effects of the ordeal. Her poor brain had striven in vain to invent means by which she might save the man she loved. She had surrendered to the inevitable because there was justice in the claims of the inexorable Duke and his vindictive friends. Against her will she had issued the decree, but not, however, until she had learned that he was in prison and unable to fly the country. The hope that delay might aid him in escaping was rudely crushed when her uncle informed her of Laurie's whereabouts. She signed the decree as if in a dream, a nightmare, with trembling hand and broken heart. His death warrant. And yet, like all others, she believed him guilty, guilty for her sake, and this was how she rewarded him. Ms. Rox and his friends departed in triumph revenge written on every face. She walked blindly, numbly to her room, assisted by her uncle, the Count. Without observing her aunt or the Count her stagma, she staggered to the window and looked below. The Exvanians were crossing the parade ground jubilantly. Then came the clatter of a horse's hoof and captain Quinox, with the fatal papers in his possession, galloped down the avenue. She clutched the curtains distractedly, and leaning far forward, cried from the open window, Quinox, Quinox, come back! I forbid, I forbid, destroy those papers, Quinox!" But Quinox heard not the pitiful wail. He rode on, his dark face stamped with pity for the man whose arrest he was to make. Had he heard that cry from his sovereign, the papers would have been in her destroying grasp with the speed that comes only to the winged birds. Seeing him disappear down the avenue, she threw her hands to her head, and sank back with a moan, fainting. Count Alfonte caught her in his arms. It was nightfall before she was fully revived. The faithful young Countess clung to her caressingly, lovingly, uttering words of consolation, until long after the shades of night had dropped. They were alone in the princess's boudoir, seated together upon the divan, the tired head of the one resting wearily against the shoulder of the other. Gentle fingers toyed with the tawny tresses, and a soft voice lulled with its consoling promises of hope. Wide and dark and troubled were the eyes of the ruler of Grouse-Dark. An attendant appeared, and announced the arrival of one of the American gentlemen, who insisted on seeing her royal highness. The card on the tray bore the name of Harry Anguish. At once the princess was afluttered with eagerness and excitement. Anguish, show him to this room quickly. O Dagmar, he brings word from him. He comes from him. Why is he so slow? Arca cannot wait! Far from being slow, Anguish was exceedingly swift in approaching the room to which he feared admittance might be denied. He strode boldly, impetuously into the apartment. His feet muddy, his clothing splashed with rain. His appearance far from that of a gentleman. Tell me what is it, she cried, as he stopped in the centre of the room and glared at her. I don't care whether you like it, and it doesn't matter if you are a princess, he exploded.    He's a friend of mine, and he is no more guilty than you are, and I want to know what you mean by ordering his arrest. Her lips parted as if to speak. Her face grew deathly pale. Her fingers clutched the edge of the divan. She stared at him pitiously, unable to move, to speak. Then the blue eyes filled with tears. A sob came to her lips, and her tortured heart made a last brave effort at defence. I—I—Mr Anguish, you wrong me! I—she tried to whisper through the closed throat and stiffened lips. Words failed her, but she pleaded with those wet, imploring eyes. His heart melted, his anger was swept away in a twinkling. He saw that he had wounded her most unjustly. You brute, hissed the countess, with flashing indignant eyes, throwing her arms about the princess and drawing her head to her breast. Forgive me, he cried, sinking to his knee before the princess, shame and contrition in his face. I have been half mad this whole day, and I have thought harshly of you. I now see that you are suffering more intensely than I. I love Laurie, and that is my only excuse. He's being foully wronged, your highness. Foully wronged. I deserve your contempt, after all, whether he be guilty or innocent, I should have refused to sign the decree. It is too late now. I have signed away something that is very dear to me—his life. You are his friend and mine. Can you tell me what he thinks of me, what he says, how he feels? She asked the triple question breathlessly. He believes you were forced into the act and said as much to me. As to how he feels, I can only ask how you would feel if you were in his place, innocent and yet almost sure of conviction. These friends of Axfain will resort to any subterfuge, now that one of their number has staked his life. Mark my word, some one will deliberately swear that he saw Grenfell, Laurie, strike the blow, and that will be as villainous a lie as man ever told. What I am here for, your highness, is to ask if that decree cannot be withdrawn. Alas, it cannot. I would gladly order his release, if I could, but you can see what that would mean to us. A war, Mr. Anguish, she sighed miserably. But you will not see an innocent man condemned, cried he, again indignant. I have only your statement for that, sir, if you all pardon me. I hope from the bottom of my heart that he did not murder the prince after being honorably challenged. He is no coward, thundered Anguish, startling both women with his vermince. I say he did not kill the prince, but I'll stake my life he would have done so had they met this morning. There's no use trying to have the decree rescinded, I see, so I'll take my departure. I don't blame you, your highness. It is your duty, of course, but it's pretty hard on Laurie, that's all. He may be able to clear himself, suggested the Countess nervously. And he may not, so there you have it. What chance of two Americans over here with everybody against us? Stop, you shall not say that. He shall have full justice at any cost, and there is one here who is not against him, cried the princess, with flashing eyes. I am aware that everybody admires him because he has done grouse darker service in ridding it of something obnoxious, a prospective husband, but that does not get him out of jail. You are unkind again, said the princess slowly. I chose my husband, and you assume much when you intimate that I am glad because he was murdered. Do not be angry, cried the Countess impatiently. We all regret what has happened, and I, for one, hope that Mr. Laurie may escape from the tower, and laugh forevermore at his pursuers, if he could only dig his way out. The princess shot a startled look toward the speaker, as a new thought entered her wearied brain. A short, involuntary gasp told that it had lodged and would grow. She laughed at the idea of an escape from the tower, but as she laughed a tiny spot of red began to spread upon her cheek, and her eyes glistened strangely. Anguish remained with them for half an hour. When he left the castle, it was with a more hopeful feeling in his breast. In the princess's bed-chamber late that night, two girls in loose, silken gowns sat before a low fire, and talked of something that caused the Countess to tremble with excitement when first her pink-cheeked sovereign mentioned it in confidence. Comfortable as a cell could be made through the efforts of a kindly jailer and a sympathetic chief of police, it was not located in the dungeon, but high in the tower, a little rock-bound room with a single barred window far above the floor. There was a bed of iron upon which had been placed a clean mattress, and there was a little chair. The next day after his arrest a comfortable arm-chair replaced the latter, a table, a lamp, some books, flowers, a bottle of wine, and some fruit found their way to his lonely apartment, whoever may have sent them. Harry Anguish was admitted to the cell during the afternoon. He promptly and truthfully denied all interest in the donations, but smiled wisely. He reported that most of the Axvane contingent was still in town, a portion had hurried home carrying the news to the old prince, instructed by the aggressive Mizzrocks to fetch him forthwith to Edelweiss, where his august presence was necessary before the twenty-sixth. Those who remained in the grouse-dark capital were quiet, but still in a threatening mood. The princess, so Harry informed the prisoner, sent sincere expressions of sympathy, and the hope that all would end well with him. Count Halfont, the Countess, Gasbone, and many others had asked to be remembered. The prisoner smiled wearily and promised that they should not be forgotten in a week, which was as far as he expected his memory to extend. Late in the evening, as he was lying on his bed, staring at the shadowy ceiling, and puzzling his brain with most oppressive uncertainties, the rattle of keys in the lock announced the approach of visitors. The door swung open, and through the grate he saw dangloss and quinox. The latter wore a long military raincoat, and had just come in from a drenching downpour. Laurie's reverie had been so deep that he had not heard the thunder nor the howling of the winds. Springing to his feet, he advanced quickly to the grated door. Captain Quinox brings a private message from the princess, said the chief, the word scarcely more than whispered. It was plain that the message was important, and of a secret nature. Quinox looked up and down the corridor and stairway before thrusting the tiny note through the bars. It was grasped eagerly, and trembling fingers broke the seal. Looking near the light he read the lines, his vision blurred, his heart throbbing so fiercely that the blood seemed to be drowning out other sounds for all time to come. In the dim corridor stood the two men, watching him with baited breath and guilty, quaking nerves. Oh! gasped Laurie, kissing the missive insanely as his greedy eyes careened through the last line. There was no signature, but in every word he saw her face, felt the touch of her dear hand, heard her timid heart beating for him, for him alone. Ratcher thrilled him from head to foot, the delirious rapture of love. He could not speak, so overpowering was the joy that surprised the awakening. Obey! whispered Quinox, his face aglow with pleasure, his finger quivering as he pointed commandingly toward the letter. Obey! what? asked Laurie dullly. The last line. He hastily reread the last line, and then deliberately held the precious missive over the lamp until it ignited. He would have given all he possessed to have preserved it, but the last line commanded, burn this at once and in the presence of the bearer. There he said regretfully as he crumpled the charred remnants between his fingers and turned to the silent watchers. Her crime goes up in smoke, muttered Dangloss, sententiously. The Princess commits no crime retorted Quinox angrily when she trusts four honest men. Where is she? whispered the prisoner with thrumming ears. Where all good women should be at nine o'clock, in bed, replied Dangloss shortly. But will you obey her command? So she commands me to escape, said Laurie, smiling. I dare not disobey my sovereign, I suppose. We obey her because we love her, said the Captain of the Guard. And for that reason I also obey. But can this thing be accomplished without necessitating explanations and possible complications? I will not obey if it is likely to place her in an embarrassing position. She understands perfectly what she is doing, sir. In the first place she has had my advice, said Dangloss, the good old betrayer of an official trust.  She commanded first, and then I advised her how to command you. Axe-Fane may declare war a thousand times over, but you will be safe.  But I cannot desert my friend. How is he to know where I've gone? Will not vengeance fall on him instead? He shall know everything when the proper time comes. And now will you be ready at the hour mentioned? You have but to follow the instructions. I should say the commands of the writer. And be free. Tell her that I worship her for this. Tell her that every drop of blood in my body belongs to her. She offers me freedom, but makes me her slave for life. Yes, I shall be ready. If I do not see you again, good friends, remember that I love you because you love her, and because she loves you enough to entrust the most dangerous secret to your keeping, the commission of an act that may mean the downfall of your nation. He shook hands with them fervently. It cannot be that, sir. It may cost the lives of three of her subjects, but no man save yourself can involve the princess or the crown. They may kill us, but they cannot force us to betray her. I trust you will be as loyal to the good girl who wears a crown, not upon her heart, said Dangloss earnestly. I have said my life is hers, gentlemen, said Laurie simply. God, if I could but throw myself at her feet, I must see her before I go. I will not go without telling her what is in my heart, he added passionately. You must obey the commands implicitly, on your word of honour, or the transaction ends now, said Quinox firmly. This escape means, then, that I am not to see her again," he said, his voice choking with emotion. Her instructions are that you are to go to-night, at once, said Dangloss, and the black-eyed soldier nodded confirmation. The prisoner paced the floor of his cell, his mind a jumble of conflicting emotions. His clenched hands, twitching lips, and half-closed eyes betrayed the battle that was inflicting him with its carnage. Suddenly he darted to the door, crying, Then I refuse to obey. Tell her that if she permits me to leave this whole, I shall be at her feet before another night has passed. Say to her that I refuse to go from Graustark until I have seen her and talked with her. You, Quinox, go to her now and tell her this, and say to her also that there is something she must hear from my own lips. Then I will leave Graustark and not till then, even though death be the alternative. The two men stared at him in amazement and consternation. You will not escape, gasped Quinox. I will not be dragged away without seeing her, he answered, resolutely, throwing himself on the bed.  A moment later the slab door closed softly, a key rattled, and his visitors were gone, messengers bearing to him the most positive proof of devotion that man could exact. What had she offered to do for his sake, she had planned his escape, had sanctioned the commission of an unparalleled outrage against the laws of her land, she of all women a princess, but she also had sought to banish him from the shrine at which his very soul worshiped, a fate more cruel and unendurable than the one she would have saved him from. He looked at his hands and saw the black stains from the child-letter, last evidence of the crime against the state. A tender light came to his eyes, a great lump struggled to his throat, and he kissed the sooty spots murmuring her name again and again. How lonely he was! How cold and cheerless his cage! For the first time he began to appreciate the real seriousness of his position. Up to this time he had regarded it optimistically, confident of vindication and acquittal. His only objection to imprisonment grew out of annoyance and the mere deprivation of liberty. It had not entered his head that he was actually facing death at close range. Of course it had been plain to him that the charges were serious, and that he was awkwardly situated, but the true enormity of his peril did not dawn upon him until freedom was offered in such a remarkable manner. He grew cold and shuddered instinctively as he realized that his position was so critical that the princess had deemed it necessary to resort to strategic measures in order to save him from impending doom. Starting to his feet he paced the floor, nervousness turning to dread, dread to terror. He pounded on the door and cried aloud, oh, if he could but bring back those kindly messengers. Exhausted, torn by conflicting emotions, he at last dropped to the bed and buried his face in his arms, nearly mad with the sudden solitude of despair. He recalled her dear letter, the tender, helping hand that had been stretched out to lift him from the depths into which he was sinking. She had written he could see the words plainly that his danger was great. She could not endure life until she knew him to be safely outside the bounds of Grouse-Dark. His life was dear to her, and she would preserve it by dishonoring her trust. Then she had unfolded her plan of escape, disjointedly, guiltily, hopelessly. In one place near the end she wrote, You have done much more for me than you know, so I pray that God may be good enough to let me repay you so far as it lies within my power to do so. In another place she said, You may trust my accomplices, for they love me too, and admission unconsciously made that word too. But she was offering him freedom only to send him away without granting one moment of joy in her presence. After all, with death staring him in the face, the practically convicted murderer of a prince, he knew he could not have gone without seeing her. He had been ungrateful, perhaps, but the message he had sent to her was from his heart, and something told him that it would give her pleasure. A key turned suddenly in the lock, and his hut bounded with the hope that it might be someone with her surrender in response to his ultimatum. He sat upright and rubbed his swollen eyes. The door swung open, and a tall prison guard peered in upon him, a sharp-eyed, low-browed fellow in raincoat and helmet. His lantern's single, unkind eye was turned menacingly toward the bed. What do you want, demanded the prisoner, irritably. Instead of answering, the guard proceeded to unlock the second or grated door, stepping inside the cell a moment later. Smothering an exclamation, Laurie jerked out his watch, and then sprang to his feet, intensely excited. It was just twelve o'clock, and he remembered now that she had said a guard would come to him at that hour. Was this the man? Was the plan to be carried out? The two men stood staring at each other for a moment or two, one in the agony of doubt and suspense, the other quizzically.  He calmly advanced to the table, putting down his lantern. Then he drew off his raincoat and helmet, and placed in the other's hand a grey leaf. Laurie wheeled and would have fallen but for the wall against which he staggered. A note from her was in his hand. He tore open the envelope and drew forth the letter. As he read he grew strangely calm and contented. A blissful repose rushed in to supplant the racking unrest of a moment before. The shadows fled, and life's light was burning brightly once more. She had written, I entreat you to follow instructions and go to-night. You say you will not leave Graustark until you have seen me. How rash you are to refuse liberty and life for such a trifle! But why, I ask, am I offering you this chance to escape? Is it because I do not hope to see you again? Is it not enough that I am begging, imploring you to go? I can say no more. He folded the brief note, written in agitation, and after kissing it, proceeded to place it in his pocket, determined to keep it to the last hour of his life. Glancing up at a sound from the guard, he found himself looking into the muzzle of a revolver. A deep scowl overspread the face of the man as he pointed to the letter, and then to the lamp. There was no mistaking his meaning. Laurie reluctantly held the note over the flame and saw it crumble away as had its predecessor. There was to be no proof of her complicity left behind. He knew it would be folly to offer a bribe to the loyal guard. After this very significant act the guards' face cleared, and he deposited his big revolver on the table. Stepping to the cell's entrance, he listened intently, then softly closed the heavy iron doors.  The fellow looked up impatiently and motioned for him to be quick, taking it for granted that the prisoner understood his part of the transaction. Awakened by this sharp reminder, Laurie nervously began to remove his own clothes. In five minutes his garments were scattered over the floor, and he was attired in the uniform of a guard. Not a word had been spoken. The prisoner was the guard, the guard a prisoner. Are you not afraid this will cost you your life? asked Laurie, first in English, then in German. The guard merely shook his head, indicating that he could not understand. He quickly turned to the bed, seized a sheet, and tore it into strips, impatiently thrusting them into the other's hand. The first letter had foretold all this, and the prisoner knew what was expected of him. He therefore securely bound the guard's legs and arms. With a grim smile the captive nodded his head toward the revolver, the lantern, and the keys. His obliging prisoner secured them, as well as his own personal effects, and was ready to depart. According to instructions he was to go forth, locking the doors behind him, leaving the man to be discovered the next morning by surprised keepers. It struck him that there was something absurd in this part of the plan. How was this guard to explain his position with absolutely no sign of a struggle to bear him out? It was hardly plausible that a big, strong fellow could be so easily overpowered single-handed. There was something wretchedly incongruous about the— But there came a startling and effective end to all criticism. The guard, bound as he was, suddenly turned and lunged head foremost against the sharp bed post. His head struck with a thud, and he rolled to the floor as if dead. Uttering an exclamation of horror, Laurie ran to his side. The guard was gushing from a long gash across his head, and he was already unconscious. Sickened by the brave sacrifice, he picked the man up and placed him on the bed. A hasty examination proved that it was no more than a scalp wound, and that death was too remote to be feared. The guard had done his part nobly, and it was now the prisoner's turn to act as resolutely and as unflinchingly. Sorry to leave the poor fellow in what seemed an inhuman manner, he strode into the corridor, closed, and locked the doors clumsily, and began the descent of the stairs. He had been instructed to act unhesitatingly, as the slightest show of nervousness would result in discovery. With the helmet well down over his face and the cape well up, he steadily, even noisily made his way to the next floor below. There were prisoners on this floor, while he had been the only occupant of the floor above. Straight ahead he went, flashing his lantern here and there, passing down another stairway and into the main corridor. Here he met a guard who had just come in from the outside. The man addressed him in the language of the country, and his heart almost stopped beating. How was he to answer? Mumbling something almost inaudible, he hurried on to the ground floor, trembling with fear lest the man should call to him to halt. He was relieved to find in the end that his progress was not to be impeded. In another moment he was boldly unlocking the door that led to the visitors' hall, then came the door to the warden's office. Here he found three sleepy guards, none of whom paid any attention to him as he passed through, and entered Captain Dangloss's private room. The graph-old Captain sat at a desk, writing, The escaping man half paused as if to speak to him.  Opening the door he stepped out into a storm so fierce and wild that he shuddered apprehensively. A fitting night he muttered as he plunged into the driving rain, forcing his way across the courtyard toward the main gate. The little light in the gatekeeper's window was his guide, so, blinded by the torrents blown by the winds, he soon found himself before the final barrier. Peering through the window he saw the keeper dozing in his chair. By the light from within he selected from the bunch of keys he carried one that had a white string knotted in its ring. This was the key that was to open the big gate in case no one challenged him. In any other case he was to give the counter-sign, Dangloss, and trust fortune to pass him through without question. Luck was with him, and finding the great lock, he softly inserted and turned the key. The wind blew the heavy gate open violently, and it required all of his strength to keep it from banging against the wall beyond. The most difficult task that he had encountered grew from his efforts to close the gate against the blast. He was about to give up in despair when a hand was laid on his shoulder and someone hissed in his startled ear. Sh! not a word. His legs almost went from under his body, so great was the shock and the fear. Two strong hands joined his own in the effort to pull the door into position, and he knew at once that they belonged to the man who was to meet him on the corner at the right of the prison wall. He undoubtedly had tired of the delay, and feeling secure in the darkness of the storm had come to meet his charge, the escaping prisoner. Their united efforts brought about the desired result, and together they left the prison behind, striking out against the storm in all its fury. You are late, called the stranger in his ear. Not too late, am I? He cried back, clutching the other's arm. No, but we must hasten. Captain Quinox, is it you? Have a care. The storm has ears, and can hear names cautioned the other. As rapidly as possible they made their way along the Black Street, almost a river with its sheet of water. Laurie had lost his bearings, and knew not wither he went, trusting to the guidance of his struggling companion, there seemed to be no end to their journey, and he was growing weak beneath the exertion and the excitement. How far do we go? he cried at last. But a few rods, the carriages at the next corner. Where is the carriage to take me, he demanded. I am not at liberty to say. Am I to see her before I go? That is something I cannot answer, sir. My instructions are to place you in the carriage, and ride beside the driver until our destination is reached. Is it the castle? cried the other joyously. It is not the castle, was the disappointing answer. At that moment they came upon a great dark hulk, and heard the stamping of horses' hooves close at hand. It was so dark they could scarcely discern the shape of the carriage, although they could touch its side with their hands. A soldier stood in the shelter of the vehicle, and opened the door for the American. Hurry, get in! exclaimed Quinox. I wish to know if this is liable to get her into trouble, demanded Laurie, pausing with one foot on the steps. Get in! commanded the soldier who was holding the door, pushing him forward uneasily. He floundered into the carriage where all was dry and clean. In his hand he still carried the keys and the lantern, the slide of which he had closed before leaving the prison-yard. He could not see, but he knew that the trappings of the vehicle were superior. Outside he heard the soldier, who was preparing to end to say, This carriage travels on most urgent business for her royal highness, captain. It is not to be stopped. A moment later he was inside and the door slammed. The carriage rocked as Quinox swung up beside the driver. You may as well be comfortable, said Laurie's companion, as he sat rigid and restless. We have a long and rough ride before us. End of Chapter 18