Beverly of Graustark by George Barr McCutcheon (page 5)

stood in the door, looking into the night beyond.

“All–all right,” she choked out as she started to close the door after him.

“Halt! You are our prisoner!”

The words rang out sharply in the silence of the night. Instinctively, Beverly made an attempt to close the door; but she was too late. Two burly, villainous looking men, sword in hand, blocked the exit and advanced upon them.

“Back! Back!” Baldos shouted to Beverly, drawing his sword.

Like a flash, she picked up the lantern and sprang out of his way. Capture or worse seemed certain; but her heart did not fail her.

“Put up your sword! You are under arrest!” came from the foremost of the two. He had heard enough of Baldos’s skill with the sword to hope that the ruse might be successful and that he would surrender peaceably to numbers. The men’s instructions were to take their quarry alive if possible. The reward for the man, living, exceeded that for him dead.

Baldos instantly recognized them as spies employed by Marlanx. They had been dogging his footsteps for days and even had tried to murder him, The desire for vengeance was working like madness in his blood. He was overjoyed at having them at the point of his sword. Beverly’s presence vouchsafed that he would show little mercy.

“Arrest me, you cowardly curs!” he exclaimed. “Never!” With a spring to one side, he quickly overturned one of the casks and pushing it in front of him, it served as a rolling bulwark, preventing a joint attack.

“You first!” he cried coolly, as his sword met that of the leader. The unhappy wretch was no match for the finest swordsman in Graustark. He made a few desperate attempts to ward off his inevitable fate, calling loudly for his comrade to aid him. The latter was eager enough, but Baldos’s strategic roll of the cask effectively prevented him from taking a hand. With a vicious thrust, the blade of the goat-hunter tore clean through the man’s chest and touched the wall behind.

“One!” cried Baldos, gloating in the chance that had come to him. The man gasped and fell. He was none too quick in withdrawing his dripping weapon, for the second man was over the obstacle and upon him.

CHAPTER XXV

THE VALOR OF THE SOUTH

“Hold the lantern higher, Bev–” In the fury of the fight, he remembered the risk and importance of not mentioning her name, and stopped short. He was fighting fast but warily, for he realized that his present adversary was no mean one. As the swords played back and forth in fierce thrusts and parries, he spoke assuringly to Beverly: “Don’t be frightened! As soon as I finish with this fellow, we will go on! Ah! Bravo! Well parried, my man! How the deuce could such a swordsman as you become a cutthroat of Marlanx?”

Beverly had been standing still all this time holding the light high above her head, according to her lover’s orders, for she knew now that such he was and that she loved him with all her heart. She was a weird picture standing there as she watched Baldos fighting for their lives, her beautiful face deathlike in its pallor. Not a cry escaped her lips, as the sword-blades swished and clashed; she could hear the deep breathing of the combatants in that tomb-like passage.

Suddenly she started and listened keenly. From behind her, back there in the darkness, hurried footsteps were unmistakably approaching. What she had heard, then, was not the scurrying of a rat. Some one was following them. A terrible anguish seized her. Louder and nearer came the heavy steps. “Oh, my God! Baldos!” she screamed in terror, “Another is coming!”

“Have no fear, dear one!” he sung out gaily. His voice was infinitely more cheerful than he felt, for he realized only too well the desperate situation; he was penned in and forced to meet an attack from front and rear. He fell upon his assailant with redoubled fury, aiming to finish him before the newcomer could give aid.

From out of the gloom came a fiendish laugh. Instantly, the dark figure of a man appeared, his face completely hidden by a broad slouch hat and the long cloak which enveloped him. A sardonic voice hissed, “Trapped at last! My lady and her lover thought to escape, did they!” The voice was unfamiliar, but the atmosphere seemed charged with Marlanx. “Kill him, Zem!” he shouted. “Don’t let him escape you! I will take care of the little witch, never fear!” He clutched at the girl and tried to draw her to him.

“Marlanx! By all the gods!” cried Baldos in despair. He had wounded his man several times, though not seriously. He dared not turn to Beverly’s aid.

The scene was thrilling, grewsome. Within this narrow, dimly-lighted underground passage, with its musty walls sweating with dampness and thick with the tangled meshes of the spider’s web, a brave girt and her lover struggled and fought back to back.

To her dismay, Beverly saw the point of a sword at her throat.

“Out of the way, girl,” the man in the cloak snarled, furious at her resistance. “You die as well as your lover unless you surrender. He cannot escape me.”

“And if I refuse,” cried the girl, trying desperately to gain time.

“I will drive my blade through your heart and tell the world it was the deed of your lover.”

Baldos groaned. His adversary, encouraged by the change in the situation, pressed him sorely.

“Don’t you dare to touch me, Count Marlanx. I know you!” she hissed.” I know what you would do with me. It is not for Graustark that you seek his life.”

The sword came nearer. The words died in her throat. She grew faint. Terror paralyzed her. Suddenly, her heart gave a great thump of joy. The resourcefulness of the trapped was surging to her relief. The valor of the South leaped into life. The exhilaration of conflict beat down all her fears. “Take away that sword, then, please,” she cried, her voice trembling, but not with terror now; it was exultation.” Will you promise to spare his life? Will you swear to let him go, if I–“

“No, no, never! God forbid!” implored Baldos.

“Ha, ha!” chuckled the man in the cloak. “Spare his life! Oh, yes; after my master has revelled in your charms. How do you like that, my handsome goathunter?”

“You infernal scoundrel! I’ll settle you yet!” Baldos fairly fumed with rage. Gathering himself together for a final effort, he rushed madly on his rapidly-weakening antagonist.

“Baldos!” she cried hopelessly and in a tone of resignation. “I must do it! It is the only way!”

The man in the cloak as well as Baldos was deceived by the girl’s cry. He immediately lowered his sword. The lantern dropped from Beverly’s hands and clattered to the floor. At the same instant she drew from her pocket her revolver, which she had placed there before leaving the castle, and fired point blank at him. The report sounded like a thunder clap in their ears. It was followed quickly by a sharp cry and imprecation from the lips of her persecutor, who fell, striking his head with a terrible force on the stones.

Simultaneously, there was a groan and the noise of a limp body slipping to the ground, and, Baldos, victor at last, turned in fear and trembling to find Beverly standing unhurt staring at the black mass at her feet.

“Thank God! You are safe!” Grasping her hand he led her out of the darkness into the moonlight.

Not a word was spoken as they ran swiftly on until they reached a little clump of trees, not far from one of the gates. Here Baldos gently released her hand. She was panting for breath; but he realized she must not be allowed to risk a moment’s delay. She must pass the sentry at once.

“Have you the watchword?” he eagerly asked.

“Watchword?” she repeated feebly.

“Yes, the countersign for the night. It is Ganlook. Keep your face well covered with your hood. Advance boldly to the gates and give the word. There will be no trouble. The guard is used to pleasure seekers returning at all hours of night.”

“Is he dead?” she asked timorously, returning to the scene of horror.

“Only wounded, I think, as are the other men, though they all deserve death.”

He went with her as close to the gate as he thought safe. Taking her hand he kissed it fervently. “Good-bye! It won’t be for long!” and disappeared.

She stood still and lifeless, staring after him, for ages, it seemed. He was gone. Gone forever, no doubt. Her eyes grew wilder and wilder with the pity of it all. Pride fled incontinently. She longed to call him back. Then it occurred to her that he was hurrying off to that other woman. No, he said he would return. She must be brave, true to herself, whatever happened. She marched boldly up to the gate, gave the countersign and passed through, not heeding the curious glances cast upon her by the sentry; turned into the castle, up the grand staircase, and fled to the princess’s bed-chamber.

Beverly, trembling and sobbing, threw herself in the arms of the princess. Incoherently, she related all that had happened, then swooned.

After she had been restored, the promise of Yetive to protect her, whatever happened, comforted her somewhat.

“It must have been Marlanx,” moaned Beverly.

“Who else could it have been?” replied the princess, who was visibly excited.

Summoning all her courage, she went on: “First, we must find out if he is badly hurt. We’ll trust to luck. Cheer up!” She touched a bell. There came a knock at the door. A guard was told to enter. “Ellos,” she exclaimed, “did you hear a shot fired a short time ago?”

“I thought I did, your highness, but was not sure.”

“Baldos, the guard, was escaping by the secret passage,” continued the princess, a wonderful inspiration coming to her rescue. “He passed through the chapel. Miss Calhoun was there. Alone, and single-handed, she tried to prevent him. It was her duty. He refused to obey her command to stop and she followed him into the tunnel and fired at him. I’m afraid you are too late to capture him, but you may–, Oh, Beverly, how plucky you were to follow him! Go quickly, Ellos! Search the tunnel and report at once.” As the guard saluted, with wonder, admiration and unbelief, he saw the two conspirators locked in each other’s arms.

Presently he returned and reported that the guards could find no trace of anyone in the tunnel, but that they found blood on the floor near the exit and that the door was wide open.

The two girls looked at each other in amazement. They were dumbfounded, but a great relief was glowing in their eyes.

“Ellos,” inquired the princess, considerably less agitated, “does any one else know of this?”

“No, your highness, there was no one on guard but Max, Baldos, and myself,”

“Well, for the present, no one else must know of his flight. Do you understand? Not a word to any one. I, myself, will explain when the proper time comes. You and Max have been very careless, but I suppose you should not be punished. He has tricked us all. Send Max to me at once.”

“Yes, your highness,” said Ellos, and he went away with his head swimming. Max, the other guard, received like orders and then the two young women sank limply upon a divan.

“Oh, how clever you are, Yetive,” came from the American girl. “But what next?”

“We may expect to hear something disagreeable from Count Marlanx, my dear,” murmured the perplexed, but confident princess, “but I think we have the game in our own hands, as you would say in America.”

CHAPTER XXVI

THE DEGRADATION OF MARLANX

“Aunt Fanny, what is that white thing sticking under the window?” demanded Beverly late the next morning. She was sitting with her face to the windows while the old negress dressed her hair.

“Looks lak a love letteh. Miss Bev’ly,” was the answer, as Aunt Fanny gingerly placed an envelope in her mistress’s hand. Beverly looked at it in amazement. It was unmistakably a letter, addressed to her, which had been left at her window some time in the night. Her heart gave a thump and she went red with anticipated pleasure. With eager fingers she tore open the envelope. The first glance at the contents brought disappointment to her face. The missive was from Count Marlanx; but it was a relief to find that he was very much alive and kicking. As she read on, there came a look of perplexity which was succeeded by burning indignation. The man in the cloak was preparing to strike.

“Your secret is mine. I know all that happened in the chapel and underground passage. You have betrayed Graustark in aiding this man to escape. The plot was cleverly executed, but you counted without the jealous eye of love. You can save yourself and your honor, and perhaps your princess, but the conditions are mine. This time there can be no trifling. I want you to treat me fairly. God help you if you refuse. Give me the answer I want and your secret is safe, I will shield you with my life. At eleven o’clock I shall come to see you. I have in my possession a document that will influence you. You will do well to keep a close mouth until you have seen this paper.”

This alarming note was all that was needed to restore fire to the lagging blood of the American girl. Its effect was decidedly contrary to that which Marlanx must have anticipated. Instead of collapsing, Beverly sprang to her feet with energy and life in every fiber. Her eyes were flashing brightly, her body quivering with the sensations of battle.

“That awful old wretch!” she cried, to Aunt Fanny’s amazement. “He is the meanest human being in all the world. But he’s making the mistake of his life, isn’t he, Aunt Fanny? Oh, of course you don’t know what it is, so never mind. We’ve got a surprise for him. I’ll see him at eleven o’clock, and then–” she smiled quite benignly at the thought of what she was going to say to him. Beverly felt very secure in the shadow of the princess.

A clatter of horses’ hoofs on the parade-ground drew her to the balcony. What she saw brought joy to her heart. Lorry and Anguish, muddy and disheveled, were dismounting before the castle.

“Ah, this is joy! Now there are three good Americans here. I’m not afraid,” she said bravely. Aunt Fanny nodded her head in approval, although she did not know what it was all about. Curiosity more than alarm made Beverly eager to see the document which old Marlanx held in reserve for her. She determined to met him at eleven.

A message from the princess announced the unexpected return of the two Americans. She said they were (to use Harry Anguish’s own expression) “beastly near starvation” and clamored for substantial breakfasts, Beverly was urged to join them and to hear the latest news from the frontier.

Lorry and Anguish were full of the excitement on which they had lived for many hours. They had found evidence of raids by the Dawsbergen scouts and had even caught sight of a small band of fleeing horsemen. Lorry reluctantly admitted that Gabriel’s army seemed loyal to him and that there was small hope of a conflict being averted, as he had surmised, through the defection of the people. He was surprised but not dismayed when Yetive told him certain portions of the story in regard to Marlanx; and, by no means averse to seeing the old man relegated to the background, heartily endorsed the step taken by his wife. He was fair enough, however, to promise the general a chance to speak in his own defense, if he so desired. He had this in view when he requested Marlanx to come to the castle at eleven o’clock for consultation.

“Gabriel is devoting most of his energy now to hunting that poor Dantan into his grave,” said Anguish. “I believe he’d rather kill his half-brother than conquer Graustark. Why, the inhuman monster has set himself to the task of obliterating everything that reminds him of Dantan. We learned from spies down there that he issued an order for the death of Dantan’s sister, a pretty young thing named Candace, because he believed she was secretly aiding her fugitive brother. She escaped from the palace in Serros a week ago, and no one knows what has become of her. There’s a report that she was actually killed, and that the story of her flight is a mere blind on the part of Gabriel.”

“He would do anything,” cried Yetive.” Poor child; they say she is like her English mother and is charming.”

“That would set Gabriel against her, I fancy,” went on Anguish. “And, by the way, Miss Calhoun, we heard something definite about your friend, Prince Dantan. It is pretty well settled that he isn’t Baldos of the guard. Dantan was seen two days ago by Captain Dangloss’s men. He was in the Dawsbergen pass and they talked with him and his men. There was no mistake this time. The poor, half-starved chap confessed to being the prince and begged for food for himself and his followers,”

“I tried to find him, and, failing in that, left word in the pass that if he would but cast his lot with us in this trouble we soon would restore him to his throne,” said Lorry. “He may accept and we shall have him turning up here some day, hungry for revenge. And now, my dear Beverly, how are you progressing with the excellent Baldos, of whom we cannot make a prince, no matter how hard we try?”

Beverly and the princess exchanged glances in which consternation was difficult to conceal. It was clear to Beverly that Yetive had not told her husband of the escape.

“I don’t know anything about Baldos,” she answered steadily. “Last night someone shot at him in the park.”

“The deuce you say!”

“In order to protect him until you returned, Gren, I had him transferred to guard duty inside the castle,” explained the princess.” It really seemed necessary. General Marlanx expects to present formal charges against him this morning, so I suppose we shall have to put him in irons for a little while. It seems too bad, doesn’t it, Gren?”

“Yes. He’s as straight as a string, I’ll swear,” said Lorry emphatically.

“I’ll bet he wishes he were safely out of this place,” ventured Anguish, and two young women busied themselves suddenly with their coffee.

“The chance is he’s sorry he ever came into it,” said Lorry tantalizingly.

While they were waiting for Marlanx the young Duke of Mizrox was announced. The handsome Axphainian came with relief and dismay struggling for mastery in his face.

“Your highness,” he said, after the greetings, “I am come to inform you that Graustark has one prince less to account for. Axphain has found her fugitive.”

“When?” cried the princess and Beverly in one voice and with astonishing eagerness, not unmixed with dismay.

“Three days ago,” was the reply.

“Oh,” came in deep relief from Beverly as she sank back into her chair. The same fear had lodged in the hearts of the two fair conspirators–that they had freed Baldos only to have him fall into the hands of his deadliest foes.

“I have a message by courier from my uncle in Axphain,” said Mizrox. “He says that Frederic was killed near Labbot by soldiers, after making a gallant fight, on last Sunday night. The Princess Volga is rejoicing, and has amply rewarded his slayers. Poor Frederic! He knew but little happiness, in this life.”

There was a full minute of reflection before any of his hearers expressed the thought that had framed itself in every mind.

“Well, since Dantan and Frederic are accounted for, Baldos is absolutely obliged to be Christobal,” said Anguish resignedly.

“He’s just Baldos,” observed Beverly, snuffing out the faint hope that had lingered so long. Then she said to herself: “And I don’t care, either. I only wish he were back here again. I’d be a good deal nicer to him.”

Messengers flew back and forth, carrying orders from the castle to various quarters. The ministers were called to meet at twelve o’clock. Underneath all the bustle there was a tremendous impulse of American cunning, energy and resourcefulness. Everyone caught the fever. Reserved old diplomats were overwhelmed by their own enthusiasm; custom-bound soldiers forgot the hereditary caution and fell into the ways of the new leaders without a murmur. The city was wild with excitement, for all believed that the war was upon them. There was but one shadow overhanging the glorious optimism of Graustark–the ugly, menacing attitude of Axphain. Even the Duke of Mizrox could give no assurance that his country would remain neutral.

Colonel Quinnox came to the castle in haste and perturbation. It was he who propounded the question that Yetive and Beverly were expecting: “Where is Baldos?” Of course, the flight of the suspected guard was soon a matter of certainty. A single imploring glance from the princess, meant for the faithful Quinnox alone, told him as plainly as words could have said that she had given the man his freedom. And Quinnox would have died a thousand times to protect the secret of his sovereign, for had not twenty generations of Quinnoxes served the rulers of Graustark with unflinching loyalty? Baron Dangloss may have suspected the trick, but he did not so much as blink when the princess instructed him to hunt high and low for the fugitive.

Marlanx came at eleven. Under the defiant calmness of his bearing there was lurking a mighty fear. His brain was scourged by thoughts of impending disgrace. The princess had plainly threatened his degradation. After all these years, he was to tremble with shame and humiliation; he was to cringe where he had always boasted of domineering power. And besides all this, Marlanx had a bullet wound in his left shoulder! The world could not have known, for he knew how to conceal pain.

He approached the slender, imperious judge in the council-chamber with a defiant leer on his face. If he went down into the depths he would drag with him the fairest treasure he had coveted in all his years of lust and desire.

“A word with you,” he said in an aside to Beverly, as she came from the council-chamber, in which she felt she should not sit. She stopped and faced him. Instinctively she looked to see if he bore evidence of a wound. She was positive that her bullet had struck him the night before, and that Marlanx was the man with the cloak.

“Well?” she said coldly. He read her thoughts and smiled, even as his shoulder burned with pain.

“I will give you the chance to save yourself. I love you. I want you. I must have you for my own,” he was saying.

“Stop, sir! It may be your experience in life that women kneel to you when you command. It may be your habit to win what you set about to win. But you have a novel way of presenting your _devoire_, I must say. Is this the way in which you won the five unfortunates whom you want me to succeed? Did you scare them into submission?”

“No, no! I cared nothing for them. You are the only one I ever loved–“

“Really, Count Marlanx, you are most amusing,” she interrupted, with a laugh that stung him to the quick.” You have been unique in your love-making. I am not used to your methods. Besides, after having known them, I’ll confess that I don’t like them in the least. You may have been wonderfully successful in the past, but you were not dealing with an American girl. I have had enough of your insults. Go! Go in and face–“

“Have a care, girl!” he snarled. “I have it in my power to crush you.”

“Pooh!” came scornfully from her lips. “If you molest me further I shall call Mr. Lorry. Let me pass!”

“Just glance at this paper, my beauty. I fancy you’ll change your tune. It goes before the eyes of the council, unless you–” he paused significantly.

Beverly took the document and with dilated eyes read the revolting charges against her honor. Her cheeks grew white with anger, then flushed a deep crimson.

“You fiend!” she cried, glaring at him so fiercely that he instinctively shrank back, the vicious grin dying in his face. “I’ll show you how much I fear you. I shall give this revolting thing to the princess. She may read it to the cabinet, for all I care. No one will believe you. They’ll kill you for this!”

She turned and flew into the presence of the princess and her ministers. Speeding to the side of Yetive, she thrust the paper into her hands. Surprise and expectancy filled the eyes of all assembled.

“Count Marlanx officially charges me with–with–Read it, your highness,” she cried distractedly.

Yetive read it, pale-faced and cold. A determined gleam appeared in her eyes as she passed the document to her husband.

“Allode,” Lorry said to an attendant, after a brief glance at its revolting contents, “ask Count Marlanx to appear here instantly. He is outside the door.”

Lorry’s anger was hard to control. He clenched his hands and there was a fine suggestion of throttling in the way he did it. Marlanx, entering the room, saw that he was doomed. He had not expected Beverly to take this appalling step. The girl, tears in her eyes, rushed to a window, hiding her face from the wondering ministers. Her courage suddenly failed her. If the charges were read aloud before these men it seemed to her that she never could lift her eyes again. A mighty longing for Washington, her father and the big Calhoun boys, rushed to her heart as she stood there and awaited the crash. But Lorry was a true nobleman.

“Gentlemen,” he said quietly,” Count Marlanx has seen fit to charge Miss Calhoun with complicity in the flight of Baldos. I will not read the charges to you. They are unworthy of one who has held the highest position in the army of Graustark. He has–“

“Read this, my husband, before you proceed further,” said Yetive, thrusting into his hand a line she had written with feverish haste. Lorry smiled gravely before he read aloud the brief edict which removed General Marlanx from the command of the army of Graustark.

“Is this justice?” protested Marlanx angrily. “Will you not give me a hearing? I beseech–“

“Silence!” commanded the princess. “What manner of hearing did you expect to give Miss Calhoun? It is enough, sir. There shall be no cowards in my army.”

“Coward?” he faltered. “Have I not proved my courage on the field of battle? Am I to be called a–“

“Bravery should not end when the soldier quits the field of battle. You have had a hearing. Count Marlanx. I heard the truth about you last night.”

“From Miss Calhoun?” sneered he viciously. “I must be content to accept this dismissal, your highness. There is no hope for me. Some day you may pray God to forgive you for the wrong you have done your most loyal servant. There is no appeal from your decision; but as a subject of Graustark I insist that Miss Calhoun shall be punished for aiding in the escape of this spy and traitor. He is gone, and it was she who led him through the castle to the outer world. She cannot deny this, gentlemen. I defy her to say she did not accompany Baldos through the secret passage last night.”

“It will do no harm to set herself right by denying this accusation,” suggested Count Halfont solemnly. Every man in the cabinet and army had hated Marlanx for years. His degradation was not displeasing to them. They would ask no questions.

But Beverly Calhoun stood staring out of the window, out upon the castle park and its gay sunshine. She did not answer, for she did not hear the premier’s words. Her brain was whirling madly with other thoughts. She was trying to believe her eyes.

“The spy is gone,” cried Marlanx, seeing a faint chance to redeem himself at her expense. “She can not face my charge. Where is your friend, Miss Calhoun?”

Beverly faced them with a strange, subdued calmness in her face. Her heart was throbbing wildly in the shelter of this splendid disguise.

“I don’t know what all this commotion is about,” she said. “I only know that I have been dragged into it shamelessly by that old man over there, If you step to the window you may see Baldos himself. He has not fled. He is on duty!”

Baldos was striding steadily across the park in plain view of all.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE PRINCE OF DAWSBERGEN

Both Yetive and Beverly experienced an amazing sense of relief. They did not stop to consider why or how he had returned to the castle grounds. It was sufficient that he was actually there, sound, well, and apparently satisfied.

“I dare say Count Marlanx will withdraw his infamous charge against our guest,” said Lorry, with deadly directness. Marlanx was mopping his damp forehead. His eyes were fastened upon the figure of the guard, and there was something like awe in their steely depths. It seemed to him that the supernatural had been enlisted against him.

“He left the castle last night,” he muttered, half to himself.

“There seems to be no doubt of that,” agreed Gaspon, the grand treasurer. “Colonel Quinnox reports his strange disappearance.” Clearly the case was a puzzling one. Men looked at one another in wonder and uneasiness.

“I think I understand the situation,” exclaimed Marlanx, suddenly triumphant. “It bears out all that I have said. Baldos left the castle last night, as I have sworn, but not for the purpose of escaping. He went forth to carry Information to our enemies. Can anyone doubt that he is a spy? Has he not returned to carry out his work? And now, gentlemen, I ask you–would he return unless he felt secure of protection here?”

It was a facer, Yetive and Beverly felt as though a steel trap suddenly had been closed down upon them. Lorry and Anguish were undeniably disconcerted. There was a restless, undecided movement among the ministers.

“Colonel Quinnox, will you fetch Baldos to the verandah at once?” asked Lorry, his quick American perception telling him that immediate action was necessary. “It is cooler out there.” He gave Beverly a look of inquiry. She flushed painfully, guiltily, and he was troubled in consequence.

“As a mere subject, I demand the arrest of this man,” Marlanx was saying excitedly. “We must go to the bottom of this hellish plot to injure Graustark.”

“My dear count,” said Anguish, standing over him, “up to this time we have been unable to discern any reasons for or signs of the treachery you preach about. I don’t believe we have been betrayed at all.”

“But I have absolute proof, sir,” grated the count.

“I’d advise you to produce it. We must have something to work on, you know.”

“What right have you to give advice, sir? You are not one of us. You are a meddler–an impertinent alien. Your heart is not with Graustark, as mine is. How long must we endure the insolence of these Americans?”

The count was fuming with anger. As might have been expected, the easy-going Yankees laughed unreservedly at his taunt. The princess was pale with indignation.

“Count Marlanx, you will confine your remarks to the man whom you have charged with treachery,” she said. “You have asked for his arrest, and you are to be his accuser. At the proper time you will produce the proof. I warn you now that if you do not sustain these charges, the displeasure of the crown will fall heavily upon you.”

“I only ask your highness to order his arrest,” he said, controlling himself. “He is of the castle guard and can be seized only on your command.”

“Baldos is at the castle steps, your highness,” said Colonel Quinnox from the doorway. The entire party left the council-chamber and passed out to the great stone porch. It must be confessed that the princess leaned rather heavily upon Lorry’s arm. She and Beverly trembled with anxiety as they stood face to face with the tall guard who had come back to them so mysteriously.

Baldos stood at the foot of the stone steps, a guard on each side of him. One of these was the shamefaced Haddan, Dangloss’s watchman, whose vigil had been a failure. The gaze of the suspected guard purposely avoided that of Beverly Calhoun. He knew that the slightest communication between them would be misunderstood and magnified by the witnesses.

“Baldos,” said Lorry, from the top step, “it has come to our ears that you left the castle surreptitiously last night. Is it true that you were aided by Miss Calhoun?” Baldos looked thankful for this eminently leading question. In a flash it gave him the key to the situation. Secretly he was wondering what emotions possessed the slender accomplice who had said good-bye to him not so many hours before at the castle gate. He knew that she was amazed, puzzled by his sudden return; he wondered if she were glad. His quick wits saw that a crisis had arrived. The air was full of it. The dread of this very moment was the thing which had drawn him into the castle grounds at early dawn. He had watched for his chance to glide in unobserved, and had snatched a few hours’ sleep in the shelter of the shrubbery near the park wall.

“It is not true,” he said clearly, in answer to Lorry’s question. Both Beverly and Marlanx started as the sharp falsehood fell from his lips. “Who made such an accusation?” he demanded.

“Count Marlanx is our informant.”

“Then Count Marlanx lies,” came coolly from the guard. A snarl of fury burst from the throat of the deposed general. His eyes were red and his tongue was half palsied by rage.

“Dog! Dog!” he shouted, running down the steps. “Infamous dog! I swear by my soul that he–“

“Where is your proof, Count Marlanx?” sternly interrupted Lorry. “You have made a serious accusation against our honored guest. It cannot be overlooked.”

Marlanx hesitated a moment, and then threw his bomb at the feet of the conspirators.

“I was in the chapel when she opened the secret panel for him.”

Not a word was uttered for a full minute. It was Beverly Calhoun who spoke first. She was as calm as a spring morning.

“If all this be true, Count Marlanx, may I ask why you, the head of Graustark’s army, did not intercept the spy when you had the chance?”

Marlanx flushed guiltily. The question had caught him unprepared. He dared not acknowledge his presence there with the hired assassins.

“I–I was not in a position to restrain him,” he fumbled.

“You preferred to wait until he was safely gone before making the effort to protect Graustark from his evil designs. Is that it? What was your object in going to the chapel? To pray? Besides, what right had you to enter the castle in the night?” she asked ironically.

“Your highness, may I be heard?” asked Baldos easily. He was smiling up at Yetive from the bottom of the steps. She nodded her head a trifle uneasily. “It is quite true that I left the castle by means of your secret passage last night.”

“There!” shrieked Marlanx. “He admits that he–“

“But I wish to add that Count Marlanx is in error when he says that Miss Calhoun was my accomplice. His eyes were not keen in the darkness of the sanctuary. Perhaps he is not accustomed to the light one finds in a chapel at the hour of two. Will your highness kindly look in the direction of the southern gate? Your august gaze may fall upon the reclining figure of a boy asleep, there in the shadow of the friendly cedar. If Count Marlanx had looked closely enough last night he might have seen that it was a boy who went with me and not–“

“Fool! Don’t you suppose I know a woman’s skirts?” cried the Iron Count.

“Better than most men, I fancy,” calmly responded Baldos. “My young friend wore the garments of a woman, let me add.”

Lorry came down and grasped Baldos by the arm. His eyes were stern and accusing. Above, Yetive and Beverly had clasped hands and were looking on dumbly. What did Baldos mean?

“Then, you did go through the passage? And you were accompanied by this boy, a stranger? How comes this, sir?” demanded Lorry. Every eye was accusing the guard at this juncture. The men were descending the steps as if to surround him.

“It is not the first time that I have gone through the passage, sir,” said Baldos, amused by the looks of consternation. “I’d advise you to close it. Its secret is known to more than one person. It is known, by the way, to Prince Gabriel of Dawsbergen. It is known to every member of the band with which Miss Calhoun found me when she was a princess. Count Marlanx is quite right when he says that I have gone in and out of the castle grounds from time to time. He is right when he says that I have communicated with men inside and outside of these grounds. But he is wrong when he accuses Miss Calhoun of being responsible for or even aware of my reprehensible conduct. She knew nothing of all this, as you may judge by taking a look at her face at this instant.”

Beverly’s face was a study in emotions. She was looking at him with dilated eyes. Pain and disappointment were concentrated in their expressive gray depths; indignation was struggling to master the love and pity that had lurked in her face all along. It required but a single glance to convince the most skeptical that she was ignorant of these astounding movements on the part of her protege. Again every eye was turned upon the bold, smiling guardsman.

“I have been bitterly deceived in you,” said Lorry, genuine pain in his voice. “We trusted you implicitly. I didn’t think it of you, Baldos. After all, it is honorable of you to expose so thoroughly your own infamy in order to acquit an innocent person who believed in you. You did not have to come back to the castle. You might have escaped punishment by using Miss Calhoun as a shield from her highness’s wrath. But none the less you compel me to give countenance to all that Count Marlanx has said.”

“I insist that it was Miss Calhoun who went through the panel with him,” said Marlanx eagerly.

“If it was this boy who accompanied you, what was his excuse in returning to the castle after you had fled?”

“He came back to watch over Miss Calhoun while she slept. It was my sworn duty to guard her from the man who had accused her. This boy is a member of the band to which I belong and he watched while I went forth on a pretty business of my own. It will be useless to ask what that business was. I will not tell. Nor will the boy. You may kill us, but our secrets die with us. This much I will say: we have done nothing disloyal to Graustark. You may believe me or not. It has been necessary for me to communicate with my friends, and I found the means soon after my arrival here. All the foxes that live in the hills have not four legs,” he concluded significantly.

“You are a marvel!” exclaimed Lorry, and there was real admiration in his voice. “I’m sorry you were fool enough to come back and get caught like this. Don’t look surprised, gentlemen, for I believe that in your hearts you admire him quite as much as I do.” The faint smile that went the rounds was confirmation enough. Nearly every man there had been trained in English-speaking lands and not a word of the conversation had been missed.

“I expected to be arrested, Mr. Lorry,” said Baldos calmly. “I knew that the warrant awaited me. I knew that my flight of last night was no secret. I came back willingly, gladly, your highness, and now I am ready to face my accuser. There is nothing for me to fear.”

“And after you have confessed to all these actions? By George, I like your nerve,” exclaimed Lorry.

“I have been amply vindicated,” cried Marlanx. “Put him in irons–and that boy, too.”

“We’ll interview the boy,” said Lorry, remembering the lad beneath the tree.

“See; he’s sleeping so sweetly,” said Baldos gently. “Poor lad, he has not known sleep for many hour. I suppose he’ll have to be awakened, poor little beggar.”

Colonel Quinnox and Haddan crossed the grounds to the big cedar. The boy sprang to his feet at their call and looked wildly about. Two big hands clasped his arms, and a moment later the slight figure came pathetically across the intervening space between the stalwart guards.

“Why has he remained here, certain of arrest?” demanded Lorry in surprise.

“He was safer with me than anywhere else, Mr. Lorry. You may shoot me a thousand times, but I implore you to deal gently with my unhappy friend. He has done no wrong. The clothes you see upon that trembling figure are torturing the poor heart more than you can know. The burning flush upon that cheek is the red of modesty. Your highness and gentlemen, I ask you to have pity on this gentle friend of mine.” He threw his arm about the shoulder of the slight figure as it drooped against him. “Count Marlanx was right. It was a woman he saw with me in the chapel last night.”

The sensation created by this simple statement was staggering. The flushed face was unmistakably that of a young girl, a tender, modest thing that shrank before the eyes of a grim audience. Womanly instinct impelled Yetive to shield the timid masquerader. Her strange association with Baldos was not of enough consequence in the eyes of this tender ruler to check the impulse of gentleness that swept over her. That the girl was guiltless of any wrong-doing was plain to be seen. Her eyes, her face, her trembling figure furnished proof conclusive. The dark looks of the men were softened when the arm of the princess went about the stranger and drew her close.

“Bah! Some wanton or other!” sneered Marlanx. “But a pretty one, by the gods. Baldos has always shown his good taste,”

Baldos glared at him like a tiger restrained. “Before God, you will have those words to unsay,” he hissed.

Yetive felt the slight body of the girl quiver and then grow tense.

The eyes of Baldos now were fixed on the white, drawn face of Beverly Calhoun, who stood quite alone at the top of the steps. She began to sway dizzily and he saw that she was about to fall. Springing away from the guards, he dashed up the steps to her side. His arm caught her as she swayed, and its touch restored strength to her–the strength of resentment and defiance.

“Don’t!” she whispered hoarsely.

“Have courage,” he murmured softly. “It will all be well. There is no danger.”

“So this is the woman!” she cried bitterly.

“Yes. You alone are dearer to me than she,” he uttered hurriedly.

“I can’t believe a word you say.”

“You will, Beverly. I love you. That is why I came back. I could not leave you to meet it alone. Was I not right? Let them put me into irons–let them kill me–“

“Come!” cried Colonel Quinnox, reaching his side at this instant. “The girl will be cared for. You are a prisoner.”

“Wait!” implored Beverly, light suddenly breaking in upon her. “Please wait, Colonel Quinnox.” He hesitated, his broad shoulders between her and the gaping crowd below. She saw with grateful heart that Yetive and Lorry were holding the steps as if against a warlike foe. “Is she–is she your wife?”

“Good heavens, no!” gasped Baldos.

“Your sweetheart?” piteously.

“She is the sister of the man I serve so poorly,” he whispered. Quinnox allowed them to walk a few paces down the flagging, away from the curious gaze of the persons below.

“Oh, Baldos!” she cried, her heart suddenly melting. “Is she Prince Dantan’s sister?” Her hand clasped his convulsively, as he nodded assent. “Now I _do_ love you.”

“Thank God!” he whispered joyously. “I knew it, but I was afraid you never would speak the words. I am happy–I am wild with joy.”

“But they may shoot you,” she shuddered. “You have condemned yourself. Oh, I cannot talk to you as I want to–out here before all these people. Don’t move, Colonel Quinnox–they can’t see through you. Please stand still.”

“They will not shoot me, Beverly, dear. I am not a spy,” said Baldos, looking down into the eyes of the slender boyish figure who stood beside the princess. “It is better that I should die, however,” he went on bitterly. “Life will not be worth living without you. You would not give yourself to the lowly, humble hunter, so I–“

“I will marry you, Paul. I love you. Can’t anything be done to–“

“It is bound to come out all right in the end,” he cried, throwing up his head to drink in the new joy of living. “They will find that I have done nothing to injure Graustark. Wait, dearest, until the day gives up its news. It will not be long in coming. Ah, this promise of yours gives me new life, new joy. I could shout it from the housetops!”

“But don’t!” she cried nervously. “How does she happen to be here with you? Tell me, Paul. Oh, isn’t she a dear?”

“You shall know everything in time. Watch over her, dearest. I have lied today for you, but it was a lie I loved. Care for her if you love me. When I am free and in favor again you will–Ah!” he broke off suddenly with an exclamation. His eyes were bent eagerly on the circle of trees just beyond the parade-ground. Then his hand clasped hers in one spasmodic grip of relief. An instant later he was towering, with head bare, at the top of the steps, his hand pointed dramatically toward the trees.

Ravone, still in his ragged uniform, haggard but eager, was standing like a gaunt spectre in the sunlight that flooded the terrace. The vagabond, with the eyes of all upon him, raised and lowered his arms thrice, and the face of Baldos became radiant.

“Your highness,” he cried to Yetive, waving his hand toward the stranger, “I have the honor to announce the Prince of Dawsbergen.”

CHAPTER XXVIII

A BOY DISAPPEARS

This startling announcement threw the company into the greatest excitement. Baldos ran down the steps and to the side of the astonished princess.

“Prince Dantan!” she cried, unbelieving.

He pushed the boyish figure aside and whispered earnestly into Yetive’s ear. She smiled warmly in response, and her eyes sparkled.

“And this, your highness, is his sister, the Princess Candace,” he announced aloud, bowing low before the girl. At that instant she ceased to be the timid, cringing boy. Her chin went up in truly regal state as she calmly, even haughtily, responded to the dazed, half-earnest salutes of the men. With a rare smile–a knowing one in which mischief was paramount–she spoke to Baldos, giving him her hand to kiss.

“Ah, dear Baldos, you have achieved your sweetest triumph–the theatrical climax to all this time of plotting. My brother’s sister loves you for all this. Your highness,” and she turned to Yetive with a captivating smile, “is the luckless sister of Dantan welcome in your castle? May I rest here in peace? It has been a bitterly long year, this past week,” she sighed. Fatigue shot back into her sweet face, and Yetive’s love went out to her unreservedly. As she drew the slight figure up the steps she turned and said to her ministers:

“I shall be glad to receive Prince Dantan in the throne-room, without delay. I am going to put the princess to bed.”

“Your highness,” said Baldos from below, “may I be the first to announce to you that there will be no war with Dawsbergen?”

This was too much. Even Marlanx looked at his enemy with something like collapse in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” cried Lorry, seizing him by the arm.

“I mean that Prince Dantan is here to announce the recapture of Gabriel, his half-brother. Before the hour is past your own men from the dungeon in the mountains will come to report the return of the fugitive. This announcement may explain in a measure the conduct that has earned for me the accusation which confronts me. The men who have retaken Gabriel are the members of that little band you have heard so much about. Once I was its captain, Prince Dantan’s chief of staff–the commander of his ragged army of twelve. Miss Calhoun and fate brought me into Edelweiss, but my loyalty to the object espoused by our glorious little army has never wavered. Without me they have succeeded in tricking and trapping Gabriel. It is more than the great army of Graustark could do. Your highness will pardon the boast under the circumstances?”

“If this Is true, you have accomplished a miracle,” exclaimed Lorry, profoundly agitated. “But can it be true? I can’t believe it. It is too good. It is too utterly improbable. Is that really Prince Dantan?”

“Assuming that it is Dantan, Grenfall,” said Yetive, “I fancy it is not courteous in us to let him stand over there all alone and ignored. Go to him, please.” With that she passed through the doors, accompanied by Beverly and the young princess. Lorry and others went to greet the emaciated visitor in rags and tags. Colonel Quinnox and Baron Dangloss looked at one another in doubt and uncertainty. What were they to do with Baldos, the prisoner?

“You are asking yourself what is to be done with me,” said Baldos easily. “The order is for my arrest. Only the princess can annul it. She has retired on a mission of love and tenderness. I would not have her disturbed. There is nothing left for you to do but to place me in a cell. I am quite ready, Colonel Quinnox. You will be wise to put me in a place where I cannot hoodwink you further. You do not bear me a grudge?” He laughed so buoyantly, so fearlessly that Quinnox forgave him everything. Dangloss chuckled, an unheard-of condescension on his part. “We shall meet again, Count Marlanx. You were not far wrong in your accusations against me, but you have much to account for in another direction.”

“This is all a clever trick,” cried the Iron Count. “But you shall find me ready to accommodate you when the time comes.”

At this juncture Lorry and Count Halfont came up with Ravone. Baldos would have knelt before his ruler had not the worn, sickly young man restrained him.

“Your hand, Captain Baldos,” he said. “Most loyal of friends. You have won far more than the honor and love I can bestow upon you. They tell me you are a prisoner, a suspected traitor. It shall be my duty and joy to explain your motives and your actions. Have no fear. The hour will be short and the fruit much the sweeter for the bitterness.”

“Thunder!” muttered Harry Anguish. “You don’t intend to slap him into a cell, do you, Gren?” Baldos overheard the remark.

“I prefer that course, sir, until it has been clearly established that all I have said to you is the truth. Count Marlanx must be satisfied,” said he.

“And, Baldos, is all well with her?” asked the one we have known as Ravone.

“She is being put to bed,” said Baldos, with a laugh so jolly that Ravone’s lean face was wreathed in a sympathetic smile. “I am ready, gentlemen.” He marched gallantly away between the guards, followed by Dangloss and Colonel Quinnox.

Naturally the Graustark leaders were cautious, even skeptical. They awaited confirmation of the glorious news with varying emotions. The shock produced by the appearance of Prince Dantan in the person of the ascetic Ravone was almost stupefying. Even Beverly, who knew the vagabond better than all the others, had not dreamed of Ravone as the fugitive prince. Secretly she had hoped as long as she could that Baldos would prove, after all, to be no other than Dantan. This hope had dwindled to nothing, however, and she was quite prepared for the revelation. She now saw that he was just what he professed to be–a brave but humble friend of the young sovereign; and she was happy in the knowledge that she loved him for what he was and not for what he might have been.

“He is my truest friend,” said Ravone, as they led Baldos away.” I am called Ravone, gentlemen, and I am content to be known by that name until better fortune gives me the right to use another. You can hardly expect a thing in rags to be called a prince. There is much to be accomplished, much to be forgiven, before there is a Prince Dantan of Dawsbergen again.”

“You are faint and week,” said Lorry, suddenly perceiving his plight. “The hospitality of the castle is yours. The promise we made a few days ago holds good. Her highness will be proud to receive you when you are ready to come to the throne-room. I am Grenfall Lorry. Come, sir; rest and refresh yourself in our gladdened home. An hour ago we were making ready to rush into battle; but your astonishing but welcome news is calculated to change every plan we have made.”

“Undoubtedly, sir, it will. Dawsbergen hardly will make a fight to release Gabriel. He is safe in your dungeons. If they want him now, they must come to your strongholds. They will not do it, believe me,” said Ravone simply. “Alas, I am faint and sore, as you suspect. May I lie down for an hour or two? In that time you will have heard from your wardens and my story will be substantiated. Then I shall be ready to accept your hospitality as it is proffered. Outside your city gates my humble followers lie starving. My only prayer is that you will send them cheer and succor.”

No time was lost in sending to the gates for the strollers who had accomplished the marvel of the day. The news of Gabriel’s capture was kept from the city’s inhabitants until verification came from the proper sources, but those in control of the affairs of state were certain that Ravone’s story was true. All operations came to a standstill. The movements of the army were checked. Everything lay quiescent under the shock of this startling climax.

“Hang it,” growled Anguish, with a quizzical grin, as Ravone departed under the guidance of Count Halfont himself, “this knocks me galley-west. I’d like to have had a hand in it. It must have been great. How the devil do you think that miserable little gang of tramps pulled it off?”

“Harry,” said Lorry disgustedly, “they taught us a trick or two.”

While the young princess was being cared for by Yetive’s own maids in one of the daintiest bedchambers of the castle, Beverly was engaged in writing a brief but pointed letter to her Aunt Josephine, who was still in St. Petersburg. She had persistently refused to visit Edelweiss, but had written many imperative letters commanding her niece to return to the Russian capital. Beverly now was recalling her scattered wits in the effort to appease her aunt and her father at the same time. Major Calhoun emphatically had ordered her to rejoin her aunt and start for America at once. Yesterday Beverly would have begun packing for the trip home. Now she was eager to remain in Graustark indefinitely. She was so thrilled by joy and excitement that she scarcely could hold the pen.

“Father says the United States papers are full of awful war scares from the Balkans. Are we a part of the Balkans, Yetive?” she asked of Yetive, with a puzzled frown, emphasizing the pronoun unconsciously. “He says I’m to come right off home. Says he’ll not pay a nickel of ransom if the brigands catch me, as they did Miss Stone and that woman who had the baby. He says mother is worried half to death. I’m just going to cable him that it’s all off. Because he says if war breaks out he’s going to send my brother Dan over here to get me. I’m having Aunt Josephine send him this cablegram from St. Petersburg: ‘They never fight in Balkans. Just scare each other. Skip headlines, father dear. Will be home soon. Beverly.’ How does that sound? It will cost a lot, but he brought it upon his own head. And we’re not in the Balkans, anyway. Aunt Joe will have a fit. Please call an A. D. T. boy, princess. I want to send this message to St. Petersburg.”

When Candace entered the princess’s boudoir half an hour later, she was far from being the timid youth who first came to the notice of the Graustark cabinet. She was now attired in one of Beverly’s gowns, and it was most becoming to her. Her short curly brown hair was done up properly; her pink and white complexion was as clear as cream, now that the dust of the road was gone; her dark eyes were glowing with the wonder and interest of nineteen years, and she was, all in all, a most enticing bit of femininity.

“You are much more of a princess now than when I first saw you,” smiled Yetive, drawing her down upon the cushions of the window-seat beside her. Candace was shy and diffident, despite her proper habiliments.

“But she was such a pretty boy,” protested Dagmar. “You don’t know how attractive you were in those–“

Candace blushed. “Oh, they were awful, but they were comfortable. One has to wear trousers if one intends to be a vagabond. I wore them for more than a week.”

“You shall tell us all about it,” said Yetive, holding the girl’s hand in hers. “It must have been a most interesting week for you.”

“Oh, there is not much to tell, your highness,” said Candace, suddenly reticent and shy. “My step-brother–oh, how I hate him–had condemned me to die because he thought I was helping Dantan. And I _was_ helping him, too,–all that I could. Old Bappo, master of the stables, who has loved me for a hundred years, he says, helped me to escape from the palace at night. They were to have seized me the next morning. Bappo has been master of the stables for more than forty years. Dear old Bappo! He procured the boy’s clothing for me and his two sons accompanied me to the hills, where I soon found my brother and his men. We saw your scouts and talked to them a day or two after I became a member of the band. Bappo’s boys are with the band now. But my brother Dantan shall tell you of that. I was so frightened I could not tell what was going am. I have lived in the open air for a week, but I love it. Dantan’s friends are all heroes. You will love them. Yesterday old Franz brought a message into the castle grounds. It told Captain Baldos of the plan to seize Gabriel, who was in the hills near your city. Didn’t you know of that? Oh, we knew it two days ago. Baldos knew it yesterday. He met us at four o’clock this morning;–that is part of us. I was sent on with Franz so that I should not see bloodshed if it came to the worst. We were near the city gates Baldos came straight to us. Isn’t it funny that you never knew all these things? Then at daybreak Baldos insisted on bringing me here to await the news from the pass. It was safer, and besides, he said he had another object in coming back at once.”

Beverly flushed warmly. The three women were crowding about the narrator, eagerly drinking in her naive story.

“We came in through one of the big gates and not through the underground passage. That was a fib,” said Candace, looking from one to the other with a perfectly delicious twinkle in her eye. The conspirators gulped and smiled guiltily. “Baldos says there is a very mean old man here who is tormenting the fairy princess–not the real princess, you know. He came back to protect her, which was very brave of him, I am sure. Where is my brother?” she asked, suddenly anxious.

“He is with friends. Don’t be alarmed, dear,” said Yetive.

“He is changing clothes, too? He needs clothes worse than I needed these. Does he say positively that Gabriel has been captured?”

“Yes. Did you not know of it?”

“I was sure it would happen. You know I was not with them in the pass.”

Yetive was reflecting, a soft smile in her eyes.

“I was thinking of the time when I wore men’s clothes,” she said. “Unlike yours, mine were most uncomfortable. It was when I aided Mr. Lorry in escaping from the tower. I wore a guard’s uniform and rode miles with him in a dark carriage before he discovered the truth.” She blushed at the remembrance of that trying hour.

“And I wore boy’s clothes at a girl’s party once–my brother Dan’s,” said Beverly.” The hostess’s brothers came home unexpectedly and I had to sit behind a bookcase for an hour. I didn’t see much fun in boy’s clothes.”

“You ought to wear them for a week,” said Candace, wise in experience. “They are not so bad when you become accustomed to them–that is, if they’re strong and not so tight that they–“

“You all love Baldos, don’t you?” interrupted Yetive. It was with difficulty that the listeners suppressed their smiles.

“Better than anyone else. He is our idol. Oh, your highness, if what he says is true that old man must be a fiend. Baldos a spy! Why, he has not slept day or night for fear that we would not capture Gabriel so that he might be cleared of the charge without appealing to–to my brother. He has always been loyal to you,” the girl said with eager eloquence.

“I know, dear, and I have known all along. He will be honorably acquitted. Count Marlanx was overzealous. He has not been wholly wrong, I must say in justice to him–“

“How can you uphold him, Yetive, after what he has said about me?” cried Beverly, with blazing eyes.

“Beverly, Beverly, you know I don’t mean that. He has been a cowardly villain so far as you are concerned and he shall be punished, never fear. I cannot condone that one amazing piece of wickedness on his part.”

“You, then, are the girl Baldos talks so much about?” cried Candace eagerly. “You are Miss Calhoun, the fairy princess? I am so glad to know you.” The young princess clasped Beverly’s hand and looked into her eyes with admiration and approval. Beverly could have crushed her in her arms.

The sounds of shouting came up to the windows from below. Outside, men were rushing to and fro and there were signs of mighty demonstrations at the gates.

“The people have heard of the capture,” said Candace, as calmly as though she were asking one to have a cup of tea.

There was a pounding at the boudoir door. It flew open unceremoniously and in rushed Lorry, followed by Anguish. In the hallway beyond a group of noblemen conversed excitedly with the women of the castle.

“The report from the dungeons, Yetive,” cried Lorry joyously. “The warden says that Gabriel is in his cell again! Here’s to Prince Dantan!”

Ravone was standing in the door. Candace ran over and leaped into his arms.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE CAPTURE OF GABRIEL

Ravone was handsome in his borrowed clothes. He was now the clean, immaculate gentleman instead of the wretched vagabond of the hills. Even Beverly was surprised at the change in him. His erstwhile sad and melancholy face was flushed and bright with happiness. The kiss he bestowed upon the delighted Candace was tender in the extreme. Then, putting her aside he strode over and gallantly kissed the hand of Graustark’s princess, beaming an ecstatic smile upon the merry Beverly an instant later.

“Welcome, Prince Dantan,” said Yetive, “A thousand times welcome.”

“All Graustark is your throne, most glorious Yetive. That is why I have asked to be presented here and not in the royal hall below,” said Ravone.

“You will wait here with us, then, to hear the good news from our warden,” said the princess. “Send the courier to me,” she commanded. “Such sweet news should be received in the place which is dearest to me in all Graustark.”

The ministers and the lords and ladies of the castle were assembled in the room when Baron Dangloss appeared with the courier from the prison. Count Marlanx was missing. He was on his way to the fortress, a crushed, furious, impotent old man. In his quarters he was to sit and wait for the blow that he knew could not be averted. In fear and despair, hiding his pain and his shame, he was racking his brain for means to lessen the force of that blow. He could withdraw the charges against Baldos, but he could not soften the words he had said and written of Beverly Calhoun. He was not troubling himself with fear because of the adventures in the chapel and passage. He knew too well how Yetive could punish when her heart was bitter against an evil-doer. Graustark honored and protected its women.

The warden of the dungeons from which Gabriel had escaped months before reported to the princess that the prisoner was again in custody. Briefly he related that a party of men led by Prince Dantan had appeared early that day bringing the fugitive prince, uninjured, but crazed by rage and disappointment. They had tricked him into following them through the hills, intent upon slaying his brother Dantan. There could be no mistake as to Gabriel’s identity. In conclusion, the warden implored her highness to send troops up to guard the prison in the mountain-side. He feared an attack in force by Gabriel’s army.

“Your highness,” said Lorry, “I have sent instructions to Colonel Braze, requiring him to take a large force of men into the pass to guard the prison. Gabriel shall not escape again, though all Dawsbergen comes after him.”

“You have but little to fear from Dawsbergen,” said Ravone, who was seated near the princess. Candace at his side. “Messages have been brought to me from the leading nobles of Dawsbergen, assuring me that the populace is secretly eager for the old reign to be resumed. Only the desperate fear of Gabriel and a few of his bloody but loyal advisers holds them in check. Believe me, Dawsbergen’s efforts to release Gabriel will be perfunctory and halfhearted in the extreme. He ruled like a madman. It was his intense, implacable desire to kill his brother that led to his undoing. Will it be strange, your highness, if Dawsbergen welcomes the return of Dantan in his stead?”

“The story! The story of his capture! Tell us the story,” came eagerly from those assembled. Ravone leaned back languidly, his face tired and drawn once more, as if the mere recalling of the hardships past was hard to bear.

“First, your highness, may I advise you and your cabinet to send another ultimatum to the people of Dawsbergen?” he asked. “This time say to them that you hold two Dawsbergen princes in your hand. One cannot and will not be restored to them. The other will be released on demand. Let the embassy be directed to meet the Duke of Matz, the premier. He is now with the army, not far from your frontier. May it please your highness, I have myself taken the liberty of despatching three trusted followers with the news of Gabriel’s capture. The two Bappos and Carl Vandos are now speeding to the frontier. Your embassy will find the Duke of Matz in possession of all the facts.”

“The Duke of Matz, I am reliably informed, some day is to be father-in-law to Dawsbergen,” smilingly said Yetive. “I shall not wonder if he responds most favorably to an ultimatum.”

Ravone and Candace exchanged glances of amusement, the latter breaking into a deplorable little gurgle of laughter.

“I beg to inform you that the duke’s daughter has disdained the offer from the crown,” said Ravone. “She has married Lieutenant Alsanol, of the royal artillery, and is as happy as a butterfly. Captain Baldos could have told you how the wayward young woman defied her father and laughed at the beggar prince.”

“Captain Baldos is an exceedingly discreet person,” Beverly volunteered. “He has told no tales out of school.”

“I am reminded of the fact that you gave your purse into my keeping one memorable day–the day when we parted from our best of friends at Ganlook’s gates. I thought you were a princess, and you did not know that I understood English. That was a sore hour for us. Baldos was our life, the heart of our enterprise. Gabriel hates him as he hates his own brother. Steadfastly has Baldos refused to join us in the plot to seize Prince Gabriel. He once took an oath to kill him on sight, and I was so opposed to this that he had to be left out of the final adventures.”

“Please tell us how you succeeded in capturing that–your half-brother,” cried Beverly, forgetting that it was another’s place to make the request. The audience drew near, eagerly attentive.

“At another time I shall rejoice in telling the story in detail. For the present let me ask you to be satisfied with the statement that we tricked him by means of letters into the insane hope that he could capture and slay his half-brother. Captain Baldos suggested the plan. Had he been arrested yesterday, I feel that it would have failed. Gabriel was and is insane. We led him a chase through the Graustark hills until the time was ripe for the final act. His small band of followers fled at our sudden attack, and he was taken almost without a struggle, not ten miles from the city of Edelweiss. In his mad ravings we learned that his chief desire was to kill his brother and sister and after that to carry out the plan that has long been in his mind. He was coming to Edelweiss for the sole purpose of entering the castle by the underground passage, with murder in his heart. Gabriel was coming to kill the Princess Yetive and Mr. Lorry. He has never forgotten the love he bore for the princess, nor the hatred he owes his rival. It was the duty of Captain Baldos to see that he did not enter the passage in the event that he eluded us in the hills.”

Later in the day the Princess Yetive received from the gaunt, hawkish old man in the fortress a signed statement, withdrawing his charges against Baldos the guard. Marlanx did not ask for leniency; it was not in him to plead. If the humble withdrawal of charges against Baldos could mitigate the punishment he knew Yetive would impose, all well and good. If it went for naught, he was prepared for the worst. Down there in his quarters, with wine before him, he sat and waited for the end. He knew that there was but one fate for the man, great or small, who attacked a woman in Graustark. His only hope was that the princess might make an exception in the case of one who had been the head of the army–but the hope was too small to cherish.

Baldos walked forth a free man, the plaudits of the people in his ears. Baron Dangloss and Colonel Quinnox were beside the tall guard as he came forward to receive the commendations and apologies of Graustark’s ruler and the warm promises of reward from the man he served.

He knelt before the two rulers who were holding court on the veranda. The cheers of nobles, the shouts of soldiery, the exclamations of the ladies did not turn his confident head. He was the born knight. The look of triumph that he bestowed upon Beverly Calhoun, who lounged gracefully beside the stone balustrade, brought the red flying to her cheeks. He took something from his breast and held it gallantly to his lips, before all the assembled courtiers. Beverly knew that it was a faded rose!

CHAPTER XXX

IN THE GROTTO

The next morning a royal messenger came to Count Marlanx. He bore two sealed letters from the princess. One briefly informed him that General Braze was his successor as commander-in-chief of the army of Graustark. He hesitated long before opening the other. It was equally brief and to the point. The Iron Count’s teeth came together with a savage snap as he read the signature of the princess at the end. There was no recourse. She had struck for Beverly Calhoun. He looked at his watch. It was eleven o’clock. The edict gave him twenty-four hours from the noon of that day. The gray old libertine despatched a messenger for his man of affairs, a lawyer of high standing in Edelweiss. Together they consulted until midnight. Shortly after daybreak the morning following. Count Marlanx was in the train for Vienna, never to set foot on Graustark’s soil again. He was banished and his estates confiscated by the government.

The ministry in Edelweiss was not slow to reopen negotiations with Dawsbergen. A proclamation was sent to the prime minister, setting forth the new order of affairs and suggesting the instant suspension of hostile preparations and the restoration of Prince Dantan. Accompanying this proclamation went a dignified message from Dantan, informing his people that he awaited their commands. He was ready to resume the throne that had been so desecrated. It would be his joy to restore Dawsbergen to its once peaceful and prosperous condition. In the meantime the Duke of Mizrox despatched the news to the Princess Volga of Axphain, who was forced to abandon–temporarily, at least–her desperate designs upon Graustark. The capture of Gabriel put an end to her transparent plans.

“But she is bound to break out against us sooner or later and on the slightest provocation,” said Yetive.

“I daresay that a friendly alliance between Graustark and Dawsbergen will prove sufficient to check any ambitions she may have along that line,” said Ravone significantly. “They are very near to each other now, your highness. Friends should stand together.”

Beverly Calhoun was in suspense. Baldos had been sent off to the frontier by Prince Dantan, carrying the message which could be trusted to no other. He accompanied the Graustark ambassadors of peace as Dantan’s special agent. He went in the night time and Beverly did not see him. The week which followed his departure was the longest she ever spent. She was troubled in her heart for fear that he might not return, despite the declaration she had made to him in one hysterical moment. It was difficult for her to keep up the show of cheerfulness that was expected of her. Reticence became her strongest characteristic. She persistently refused to be drawn into a discussion of her relations with the absent one. Yetive was piqued by her manner at first, but wisely saw through the mask as time went on. She and Prince Dantan had many quiet and interesting chats concerning Beverly and the erstwhile guard. The prince took Lorry and the princess into his confidence. He told them all there was to tell about his dashing friend and companion.

Beverly and the young Princess Candace became fast and loving friends. The young girl’s worship of her brother was beautiful to behold. She huddled close to him on every occasion, and her dark eyes bespoke adoration whenever his name was mentioned in her presence.

“If he doesn’t come back pretty soon, I’ll pack up and start for home,” Beverly said to herself resentfully one day. “Then if he wants to see me he’ll have to come all the way to Washington. And I’m not sure that he can do it, either. He’s too disgustingly poor.”

“Wha’s became o’ dat Misteh Baldos, Miss Bev’ly?” asked Aunt Fanny in the midst of these sorry cogitations. “Has he tuck hit int’ his haid to desert us fo’ good? Seems to me he’d oughteh–“

“Now, that will do, Aunt Fanny,” reprimanded her mistress sternly. “You are not supposed to know anything about affairs of state. So don’t ask.”

At last she no longer could curb her impatience and anxiety. She deliberately sought information from Prince Dantan. They were strolling in the park on the seventh day of her inquisition.

“Have you heard from Paul Baldos? “she asked, bravely plunging into deep water.

“He is expected here tomorrow or the next day, Miss Calhoun. I am almost as eager to see him as you are,” he replied, with a very pointed smile.

“Almost? Well, yes, I’ll confess that I am eager to see him. I never knew I could long for anyone as much as I–Oh, well, there’s no use hiding it from you. I couldn’t if I tried. I care very much for him. You don’t think it sounds silly for me to say such a thing, do you? I’ve thought a great deal of him ever since the night at the Inn of the Hawk and Raven. In my imagination I have tried to strip you of your princely robes to place them upon him. But he is only Baldos, in spite of it all. He knows that I care for him, and I know that he cares for me. Perhaps he has told you.”

“Yes, he has confessed that he loves you, Miss Calhoun, and he laments the fact that his love seems hopeless. Paul wonders in his heart if it would be right in him to ask you to give up all you have of wealth and pleasure to share a humble lot with him.”

“I love him. Isn’t that enough? There is no wealth so great as that. But,” and she pursed her mouth in pathetic despair, “don’t you think that you can make a noble or something of him and give him a station in life worthy of his ambitions? He has done so much for you, you know.”

“I have nothing that I can give to him, he says. Paul Baldos asks only that he may be my champion until these negotiations are ended. Then he desires to be free to serve whom he will. All that I can do is to let him have his way. He is a freelance and he asks no favors, no help.”

“Well, I think he’s perfectly ridiculous about it, don’t you? And yet, that is the very thing I like in him. I am only wondering how we–I mean, how he is going to live, that’s all.”

“If I am correctly informed he still has several months to serve in the service for which he enlisted. You alone, I believe, have the power to discharge him before his term expires,” said he meaningly.

That night Baldos returned to Edelweiss, ahead of the Graustark delegation which was coming the next day with representatives from Dawsbergen. He brought the most glorious news from the frontier. The Duke of Matz and the leading dignitaries had heard of Gabriel’s capture, both through the Bappo boys and through a few of his henchmen who had staggered into camp after the disaster. The news threw the Dawsbergen diplomats into a deplorable state of uncertainty. Even the men high in authority, while not especially depressed over the fall of their sovereign, were in doubt as to what would be the next move in their series of tragedies. Almost to a man they regretted the folly which had drawn them into the net with Gabriel. Baldos reported that the Duke of Matz and a dozen of the most distinguished men in Dawsbergen were on their way to Edelweiss to complete arrangements for peace and to lay their renunciation of Gabriel before Dantan in a neutral court. The people of Dawsbergen had been clamoring long for Dantan’s restoration, and Baldos was commissioned to say that his return would be the signal for great rejoicing. He was closeted until after midnight with Dantan and his sister. Lorry and Princess Yetive being called in at the end to hear and approve of the manifesto prepared by the Prince of Dawsbergen. The next morning the word went forth that a great banquet was to be given in the castle that night for Prince Dantan and the approaching noblemen. The prince expected to depart almost immediately thereafter to resume the throne in Serros.

Baldos was wandering through the park early in the morning. His duties rested lightly upon his shoulders, but he was restless and dissatisfied. The longing in his heart urged him to turn his eyes ever and anon toward the balcony and then to the obstinate-looking castle doors. The uniform of a Graustark guard still graced his splendid figure. At last a graceful form was seen coming from the castle toward the cedars. She walked bravely, but aimlessly. That was plain to be seen. It was evident that she was and was not looking for someone. Baldos observed with a thrill of delight that a certain red feather stood up defiantly from the band of her sailor hat. He liked the way her dark-blue walking-skirt swished in harmony with her lithe, firm strides.

She was quite near before he advanced from his place among the trees. He did not expect her to exhibit surprise or confusion and he was not disappointed. She was as cool as a brisk spring morning. He did not offer his hand, but, with a fine smile of contentment, bowed low and with mock servility.

“I report for duty, your highness,” he said. She caught the ring of gladness in his voice.

“Then I command you to shake hands with me,” she said brightly. “You have been away, I believe?” with a delicious inflection.

“Yes, for a century or more, I’m sure.” Constraint fell upon them suddenly. The hour had come for a definite understanding and both were conquered by its importance. For the first time in his life he knew the meaning of diffidence. It came over him as he looked helplessly into the clear, gray, earnest eyes. “I love you for wearing that red feather,” he said simply.

“And I loved you for wearing it,” she answered, her voice soft and thrilling. He caught his breath joyously.

“Beverly,” as he bent over her, “you are my very life, my–“

“Don’t, Paul!” she whispered, drawing away with an embarrassed glance about the park. There were people to be seen on all sides. But he had forgotten them. He thought only of the girl who ruled his heart. Seeing the pain in his face, she hastily, even blushingly, said: “It is so public, dear.”

He straightened himself with soldierly precision, but his voice trembled as he tried to speak calmly in defiance to his eyes. “There is the grotto–see! It is seclusion itself. Will you come with me? I must tell you all that is in my heart. It will burst if I do not.”

Slowly they made their way to the fairy grotto deep in the thicket of trees. It was Yetive’s favorite dreaming place. Dark and cool and musical with the rippling of waters, it was an ideal retreat. She dropped upon the rustic bench that stood against the moss-covered wall of boulders. With the gentle reserve of a man who reveres as well as loves, Baldos stood above her. He waited and she understood. How unlike most impatient lovers he was!

“You may sit beside me,” she said with a wistful smile of acknowledgment. As he flung himself into the seat, his hand eagerly sought hers, his courtly reserve gone to the winds.

“Beverly, dearest one, you never can know how much I love you,” he whispered into her ear. “It is a deathless love, unconquerable, unalterable. It is in my blood to love forever. Listen to me, dear one: I come of a race whose love is hot and enduring. My people from time immemorial have loved as no other people have loved. They have killed and slaughtered for the sake of the glorious passion. Love is the religion of my people. You must, you shall believe me when I say that I will love you better than my soul so long as that soul exists. I loved you the day I met you. It has been worship since that time.”

His passion carried her resistlessly away as the great waves sweep the deck of a ship at sea. She was out in the ocean of love, far from all else that was dear to her, far from all harbors save the mysterious one to which his passion was piloting her through a storm of emotion.

“I have longed so to hold you in my arms, Beverly–even when you were a princess and I lay in the hospital at Ganlook, my fevered arms hungered for you. There never has been a moment that my heart has not been reaching out in search of yours. You have glorified me, dearest, by the promise you made a week ago. I know that you will not renounce that precious pledge. It is in your eyes now–the eyes I shall worship to the end of eternity. Tell me, though, with your own lips, your own voice, that you will be my wife, mine to hold forever.”

For answer she placed her arms about his neck and buried her face against his shoulder. There were tears in her gray eyes and there was a sob in her throat. He held her close to his breast for an eternity, it seemed to both, neither giving voice to the song their hearts were singing. There was no other world than the fairy grotto.

“Sweetheart, I am asking you to make a great sacrifice,” he said at last, his voice hoarse but tender. She looked up into his face serenely. “Can you give up the joys, the wealth, the comforts of that home across the sea to share a lowly cottage with me and my love? Wait, dear,–do not speak until I am through. You must think of what your friends will say. The love and life I offer you now will not be like that which you always have known. It will be poverty and the dregs, not riches and wine. It will be–“

But she placed her hand upon his lips, shaking her head emphatically. The picture he was painting was the same one that she had studied for days and days. Its every shadow was familiar to her, its every unwholesome corner was as plain as day.

“The rest of the world may think what it likes, Paul,” she said. “It will make no difference to me. I have awakened from my dream. My dream prince is gone, and I find that it’s the real man that I love. What would you have me do? Give you up because you are poor? Or would you have me go up the ladder of fame and prosperity with you, a humble but adoring burden? I know you, dear. You will not always be poor. They may say what they like. I have thought long and well, because I am not a fool. It is the American girl who marries the titled foreigner without love that is a fool. Marrying a poor man is too serious a business to be handled by fools. I have written to my father, telling him that I am going to marry you,” she announced. He gasped with unbelief.

“You have–already?” he cried.

“Of course. My mind has been made up for more than a week. I told it to Aunt Fanny last night.”

“And she?”

“She almost died, that’s all,” said she unblushingly. “I was afraid to cable the news to father. He might stop me if he knew it in time. A letter was much smarter.”

“You dear, dear little sacrifice,” he cried tenderly. “I will give all my life to make you happy.”

“I am a soldier’s daughter, and I can be a soldier’s wife. I have tried hard to give you up, Paul, but I couldn’t. You are love’s soldier, dear, and it is a–a relief to surrender and have it over with.”

They fell to discussing plans for the future. It all went smoothly and airily until he asked her when he should go to Washington to claim her as his wife. She gave him a startled, puzzled look.

“To Washington?” she murmured, turning very cold and weak. “You–you won’t have to go to Washington, dear; I’ll stay here.”

“My dear Beverly, I can afford the trip,” he laughed. “I am not an absolute pauper. Besides, it is right and just that your father should give you to me. It is the custom of our land.” She was nervous and uncertain.

“But–but, Paul, there are many things to think of,” she faltered.

“You mean that your father would not consent?”

“Well,–he–he might be unreasonable,” she stammered. “And then there are my brothers, Keith and Dan. They are foolishly interested in me. Dan thinks no one is good enough for me. So does Keith. And father, too, for that matter,–and mother. You see, it’s not just as if you were a grand and wealthy nobleman. They may not understand. We are southerners, you know. Some of them have peculiar ideas about–“

“Don’t distress yourself so much, dearest,” he said with a laugh. “Though I see your position clearly–and it is not an enviable one.”

“We can go to Washington just as soon as we are married,” she compromised. “Father has a great deal of influence over there. With his help behind you you will soon be a power in the United–” but his hearty laugh checked her eager plotting. “It’s nothing to laugh at, Paul,” she said.

“I beg your pardon a thousand times. I was thinking of the disappointment I must give you now. I cannot live in the United States–never. My home is here. I am not born for the strife of your land. They have soldiers enough and better than I. It is in the turbulent east that we shall live–you and I.” Tears came into her eyes.

“Am I not to–to go back to Washin’ton?” She tried to smile.

“When Prince Dantan says we may, perhaps.”

“Oh, he is my friend,” she cried in great relief. “I can get any favor I ask of him. Oh, Paul, Paul, I know that my folks will think I’m an awful fool, but I can’t help it. I shall let you know that I intend to be a blissful one, at least.”

He kissed her time and again, out there in the dark, soft light of the fairy grotto.

“Before we can be married, dearest, I have a journey of some importance to take,” he announced, as they arose to leave the bower behind.

“A journey? Where?”

“To Vienna. I have an account to settle with a man who has just taken up his residence there.” His hand went to his sword-hilt and his dark eyes gleamed with the fire she loved. “Count Marlanx and I have postponed business to attend to, dearest. Have no fear for me. My sword is honest and I shall bring it back to you myself.”

She shuddered and knew that it would be as he said.

CHAPTER XXXI

CLEAR SKIES

The Duke of Matz and his associates reached Edelweiss in the afternoon. Their attendants and servants carried luggage bearing the princely crest of Dawsbergen, and meant for Prince Dantan and his sister Candace. In the part of the castle set apart for the visitors an important consultation was held behind closed doors. There Dantan met his countrymen and permitted them to renew the pledge of fealty that had been shattered by the overpowering influence of his mad half-brother. What took place at this secret meeting the outside world never knew. Only the happy result was made known. Prince Dantan was to resume his reign over Dawsbergen, as if it never had been interrupted.

The castle, brilliant from bottom to top, filled with music and laughter, experienced a riot of happiness such as it had not known in years. The war clouds had lifted, the sunshine of contentment was breaking through the darkness, and there was rejoicing in the hearts of all. Bright and glorious were the colors that made up the harmony of peace. Men and women of high degree came to the historic old walls, garbed in the riches of royalty and nobility. To Beverly Calhoun it was the most enchanting sight she had ever looked upon. From the galleries she gazed down into the halls glittering with the wealth of Graustark and was conscious of a strange feeling of glorification. She felt that she had a part in this jubilee. With Candace she descended the grand staircase and mingled with the resplendent crowd.

She was the center of attraction. Dressed in a simple, close-fitting gown of black velvet, without an ornament, her white arms and shoulders gleaming in the soft light from the chandeliers, she was an enticing creature to be admired by men and women alike. Two stalwart Americans felt their hearts bound with pride as they saw the conquest their countrywoman was making. Candace, her constant companion in these days, was consumed with delight.

“You are the prettiest thing in all this world,” she ecstatically whispered into Beverly’s ear. “My brother says so, too,” she added conclusively. Beverly was too true a woman not to revel in this subtle flattery.

The great banquet hall was to be thrown open at midnight. There was dancing and song during the hours leading up to this important event. Beverly was entranced. She had seen brilliant affairs at home, but none of them compared to this in regal splendor. It was the sensuous, overpowering splendor of the east.

Prince Dantan joined the throng just before midnight. He made his way direct to the little circle of which Beverly and Candace formed the center. His rich, full military costume gave him a new distinction that quite overcame Beverly. They fell into an animated conversation, exchanging shafts of wit that greatly amused those who could understand the language.

“You must remember,” Beverly said in reply to one of Ravone’s sallies, “that Americans are not in the least awed by Europe’s greatness. It has come to the pass when we call Europe our playground. We now go to Europe as we go to the circus or the county fair at home. It isn’t much more trouble, you know, and we must see the sights.”

“Alas, poor Europe!” he laughed. As he strolled about with her and Candace he pointed out certain men to her, asking her to tax her memory in the effort to recall their faces if not their apparel. She readily recognized in the lean, tired faces the men she had met first at the Inn of the Hawk and Raven.

“They were vagabonds then, Miss Calhoun. Now they are noblemen. Does the transition startle you?”

“Isn’t Baldos among them?” she asked, voicing the query that had been uppermost in her mind since the moment when she looked down from the galleries and failed to see him. She was wondering how he would appear in court costume.

“You forget that Baldos is only a guard,” he said kindly.

“He is a courtier, nevertheless,” she retorted.

She was vaguely disappointed because he was missing from the scene of splendor. It proved to her that caste overcame all else In the rock-ribbed east. The common man, no matter how valiant, had no place in such affairs as these. Her pride was suffering. She was as a queen among the noblest of the realm. As the wife of Baldos she would live in another world–on the outskirts of this one of splendor and arrogance. A stubborn, defiant little frown appeared on her brow as she pictured herself in her mind’s eye standing afar off with “the man” Baldos, looking at the opulence she could not reach. Her impetuous, rebellious little heart was thumping bitterly as she considered this single phase of the life to come. She was ready to cry out against the injustice of it all. The little frown was portentous of deep-laid designs. She would break down this cruel barrier that kept Baldos from the fields over which prejudice alone held sway. Her love for him and her determination to be his wife were not in the least dulled by these reflections.

The doors to the great banquet-hall were thrown open at last and in the disorder that followed she wondered who was to lead her to the feasting. The Duke of Mizrox claimed the Princess Candace.

“I am to have the honor,” said someone at her side, and the voice was the one she least expected to hear utter the words. The speaker was the man who deserved the place beside Yetive–Prince Dantan himself.

Bewildered, her heart palpitating with various emotions, she took his arm and allowed herself to be drawn wonderingly through the massive doors. As they entered, followed by the brilliant company, the superb orchestra that Beverly had so often enjoyed, began to play the stirring “Hands Across the Sea.” The musicians themselves seemed to have caught the universal feeling of joy and mirth that was in the air, and played as if inspired, their leader bowing low to the young American girl as she passed. It was his affectionate tribute to her. Prince Dantan, to her amazement, led her up the entire length of the banquet hall, to the head of the royal table, gorgeous with the plate of a hundred Graustark rulers, placing her on his left and next to the slightly raised royal chairs. Candace was on his right, the picture of happiness. Beverly felt dizzy, weak. She looked helplessly at Prince Dantan. His smile was puzzling. As if in a daze, she saw Grenfall Lorry with the Countess Yvonne standing exactly opposite to her, he with the others, awaiting the appearance of the princess and the one who was to sit beside her.

The music ceased, there was a hush over the room, and then Yetive came forward, magnificent in her royal robes, smiling and happy. A tall man in the uniform of an exalted army officer stood beside her, gold braid and bejeweled things across his breast. Beverly turned deathly white, her figure stiffened and then relaxed.

It was Baldos!

She never knew how she dropped into the chair the servant held for her. She only knew that his dark eyes were smiling at her with love and mischief in their depths. There was a vague, uncertain sound of chattering; someone was talking eagerly to her, but she heard him not; there was a standing toast to the Prince of Dawsbergen; then the audacious ghost of Baldos was proposing a ringing response to the Princess Yetive; the orchestra was playing the Graustark and Dawsbergen national hymns. But it was all as a dream to her. At last she heard Candace calling to her, her face wreathed in smiles. Scores of eyes seemed to be looking at her and all of them were full of amusement.

“Now, say that a girl can’t keep a secret,” came to her ears from the radiant sister of Dantan. Ravone, at her side, spoke to her, and she turned to him dizzily.

“You first knew me as Ravone, Miss Calhoun,” he was saying genially. “Then it became necessary, by royal command, for me to be Prince Dantan. May I have the honor of introducing myself in the proper person? I am Christobal of Rapp-Thorburg, and I shall be no other than he hereafter. The friendship that binds me to Prince Dantan, at last in his proper place beside the Princess of Graustark, is to be strengthened into a dearer relationship before many days have passed.”

“The Princess Candace ceases to be his sister,” volunteered the Duke of Mizrox. “She is and long has been his affianced wife.”

Enchanted and confused over all that had occurred in the last few moments, Beverly murmured her heartfelt congratulations to the joyous couple. The orchestra had again ceased playing. All eyes turned to Baldos,–the real Prince Dantan,–who, glass in hand, rose to his feet.

“Your Royal Highness, Ladies and Gentlemen: Graustark and Dawsbergen are entering a new era. I pledge you my honor that never again shall the slightest misunderstanding exist between them. They shall go forth to their glorious destiny as one people. Your gracious ruler has seen fit to bestow her hand and affections upon an American gentleman, your esteemed prince consort. We all know how loyally the people have approved her choice. There is one present, a trusted friend of your beautiful princess, and lovingly called in your hearts, Beverly of Graustark. Whose example more worthy for me to follow than that of the Princess Yetive? With whom could I better share my throne and please you more than with your beloved American protege. I ask you to drink a toast to my betrothed, Beverly Calhoun, the future Princess of Dawsbergen.”

Every glass was raised and the toast drunk amidst ringing cheers. The military band crashed out the air so dear to all Americans, especially to southern hearts. Beverly was too overcome to speak.

“You all–!” she exclaimed.

There was a tremendous commotion in the gallery. People were standing in their seats half frightened and amused, their attention attracted by the unusual scene. A portly negress totally unconscious of the sensation she was causing, her feet keeping time to the lively strains of music, was frantically waving a red and yellow bandanna handkerchief. It was Aunt Fanny, and in a voice that could be heard all over the banquet hall, she shouted: “Good Lawd, honey, ef der ain’t playin’ ‘Away Down South in Dixie,’ Hooray! Hooray!”

* * * * *

Hours later Beverly was running, confused and humbled, through the halls to her room, when a swifter one than she came up and checked her flight.

“Beverly,” cried an eager voice. She slackened her pace and glanced over her shoulder. The smiling, triumphant face of Baldos met her gaze. The upper hall was almost clear of people. She was strangely frightened, distressingly diffident. Her door was not far away, and she would have reached it in an instant later had he not laid a restraining, compelling hand upon her arm. Then she turned to face him, her lips parted in protest. “Don’t look at me in that way,” he cried imploringly. “Come, dearest, come with me. We can be alone in the nook at the end of the hall. Heavens, I am the happiest being in all the world. It has turned out as I have prayed it should.”

She allowed him to lead her to the darkened nook. In her soul she was wondering why her tongue was so powerless. There were a hundred things she wanted to say to him, but now that the moment had come she was voiceless. She only could look helplessly at him. Joy seemed to be paralyzed within her; it was as if she slept and could not be awakened. As she sank upon the cushion he dropped to his knee before her, his hand clasping hers with a fervor that thrilled her with life. As he spoke, her pulses quickened and the blood began to race furiously.

“I have won your love, Beverly, by the fairest means. There has never been an hour in which I have not been struggling for this glorious end. You gave yourself to me when you knew I could be nothing more than the humblest soldier. It was the sacrifice of love. You will forgive my presumption–my very insolence, dear one, when I tell you that my soul is the forfeit I pay. It is yours through all eternity. I love you. I can give you the riches of the world as well as the wealth of the heart. The vagabond dies; your poor humble follower gives way to the supplicating prince. You would have lived in a cot as the guardsman’s wife; you will take the royal palace instead?”

Beverly was herself again. The spell was gone. Her eyes swam with happiness and love; the suffering her pride had sustained was swept into a heap labeled romance, and she was rejoicing.

“I hated you to-night, I thought,” she cried, taking his face in her hands. “It looked as though you had played a trick on me. It was mean, dear. I couldn’t help thinking that you had used me as a plaything and it–it made me furious. But it is different now. I see, oh, so plainly. And just as I had resigned myself to the thought of spending the rest of my life in a cottage, away outside the pale of this glorious