, OF CALIF. LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES
 
 Jh<> STOLEH 
 OHRONE,
 
 ~ ty 
 
 GURTHA
 
 STOLEN 
 THRONE 
 
 Herbert Kaufman 
 
 Illustrate 
 
 CKri$t\ 
 
 MOFFAT^ARD
 
 Copyright, 1907, by 
 
 MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY 
 NEW YORK 
 
 Published March, 1907 
 Reprinted May, 1907
 
 To 
 
 Gertrude Raff Kaufman 
 
 and 
 Belle Gray Taylor 
 
 2130622
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. I Find a Strange Chest . . 3 
 
 II. Sir Sanders' Story .... 21 
 
 III. The Duke Alexis .... 29 
 
 IV. I Find a Rose 45 
 
 V. I Ride with the Duke ... 59 
 
 VI. The South Gate at Eleven . 71 
 
 VII. I Undertake a Mission . . 77 
 
 VIII. Ecarte 87 
 
 IX. I Slay the Dragon .... 99 
 
 X. The Peril of the Duchess . . 113 
 
 XI. The Man with the Nose . . 123 
 
 XII. The Pretender 133 
 
 XIII. I Enter the Fortress ... 147 
 
 XIV. The Shadow on the Shade . 157 
 XV. I See a Signet Ring . . . . 169 
 
 XVI. My Friend the Captain . . 179 
 
 XVII. What Whitworth Found . . 191 
 
 XVIII. The Man at the Mill ... 201 
 
 XIX. The Mill Grinds Strange Grist 213 
 
 XX. What Happened to Antsley . 225 
 
 XXI. Carma 243 
 
 XXII. The Grave that No Man Finds 261 
 
 XXIII. Auf Wiedersehen .... 273 
 
 XXIV. The End of the Dream 287
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Gurtha (Frontispiece) 
 
 " No one ever took Antsley seriously " . 10 
 
 "A dissipated individual whom he intro- 
 duced as Captain Helzer" ... 46 
 
 " My sharpened sword bit into him while 
 
 he was still falling" 106 
 
 " Vladimir Blitzow was a Diplomat; his 
 eyes, his mouth, his nose spelled the 
 word" 126 
 
 " In her face there was the radiance of an 
 Angel facing the Throne of God " . 250
 
 / Find a 
 Strange Chest
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "I Find a Strange Chest." 
 
 HEN will you send for it?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "I'll take it away now," 
 Wertburger replied. "My car 
 is outside and I can very easily 
 find room for it. No, you need 
 not bother, I can quite readily manage alone I 
 don't mind telling you that I've already found 
 a purchaser for it, at a handsome advance over 
 my investment. So you see, we've both done 
 rather well. Good afternoon, sir." 
 
 "Good-bye, Wertburger," I replied, "and 
 thank you." 
 
 I walked with him to the lift and then came 
 -back and stood at the window and examined 
 the checque. "5,000." Yes, it was true ! 
 
 The dark space on the wall, showing in con- 
 trast against the rest of the paper, certainly
 
 The Stolen Throne 
 
 meant that the portrait was gone, and the 
 checque was real enough. 
 
 "I wonder if he ever knew its value," I 
 mused. These were my uncle's chambers. His 
 sudden death had brought me back to London, 
 a month before, to take possession of the small 
 estate he had willed me. He and I had not 
 been very good friends and in what relenting 
 spirit he had bequeathed me his few possessions 
 I never learned. At the most it was a modest 
 competence. A few shares of bank stocks, his 
 library, a little more than a thousand pounds, 
 and his pictures and furniture. It had never 
 occurred to me that he possessed any great art 
 treasures. So that Wertburger's recognition 
 of the Benjamin West came as a complete sur- 
 prise. 
 
 He had been very honest in the matter, had 
 Wertburger. He did not seek to conceal the 
 real worth of the painting, but at once avowed 
 its probable value. It was his own suggestion
 
 I Find a Strange Chest 
 
 to have Christies' appraise the head, and he 
 had given me his checque without a quibble at 
 their valuation. It was good to have a bit of 
 the "ready" again. I had long since made away 
 with my mother's estate. George might 
 easily have assisted me. I doubt, however, if I 
 should have accepted any funds from his hand, 
 but nevertheless, it would have been only 
 decency on his part to make the proffer. 
 Mother's open jealousy, however, of Sir 
 Henry's fondness towards his first wife's son, 
 had bred bad blood between me and my half- 
 brother, and his succession to the title gave him 
 a long-deferred opportunity to repay me for 
 her snubs. 
 
 For five years I had found life rather an in- 
 soluble problem. A younger son is closely 
 -circumscribed as to livelihood. I hated the law 
 as much as I loathed the church. Trade, of 
 course was impossible, and so I chose the one 
 avenue still open to me, the stage.
 
 The Stolen Throne 
 
 I am aware that any comment upon my per- 
 sonal appearance may seem, to some, in ques- 
 tionable taste. Therefore, I feel some hesitancy 
 at describing myself, but since this is the nar- 
 rative of a very momentous episode in my life 
 and the reader is naturally interested in all that 
 pertains to me, as the principal figure therein, 
 I must, in lieu of any other means of presenting 
 myself, render a brief description of my per- 
 sonality. And if it is vanity on my part, to say 
 that I was at the time when this story began, 
 possessed of a goodly share of looks, I must 
 confess that it was impressed upon me by the 
 different managers, under whom I pursued my 
 short stage career, that my appearance, more 
 than any marked dramatic instinct, prompted 
 any engagements that I was ever fortunate 
 enough to secure. 
 
 The task of the autobiographer is always a 
 thankless one. The narrator must face two 
 pitfalls. If he be self-conscious, his sense of
 
 I Find a Strange Chest 
 
 modesty may carry him to an opposite extreme 
 and thereby throw his figure into a false per- 
 spective, which disturbs the harmony of the 
 scenes in which he appears. If on the other 
 hand, he regard himself as a separate entity 
 and divorce his ego as an individual from his 
 personality as it appertains to his theme, seek- 
 ing to set forth with an impartial judgment, his 
 strength and weakness, rendering an exact ac- 
 count of his thoughts, his emotions and his ac- 
 tions, there are always those who are ready to 
 set him in the pillory and hurl at him the ac- 
 cusation of self-conceit. 
 
 Be this as it may, I have determined to set 
 down what occurred exactly as it transpired, 
 neither to enlarge nor belittle, neither to color 
 nor subdue, the part I was called upon to play. 
 
 To resume the thread of my narrative (with 
 no apology for a justified digression) I was at 
 the time of this event a man nearing thirty-five 
 tall even for an Englishman with good
 
 8 The Stolen Throne 
 
 chest and shoulders and a well proportioned 
 figure. Except for a difference in height and 
 bulk, I might have been mistaken for the pres- 
 ent Lord Roseberry a resemblance which has 
 often been remarked upon by mutual friends. I 
 am a Staffordshire Parker on my father's side. 
 My mother was a Dunning. So that from both 
 parents I have inherited the best blood of Eng- 
 land. 
 
 At Oxford I was an assiduous reader of the 
 romance languages and evinced a decided bent 
 toward literature, but neglected to follow what 
 talent I then possessed. I was neither a great 
 success nor a pronounced failure, as an actor. 
 I have been told that application and study 
 might have lifted me to a post of prominence on 
 the stage, but that is entirely a matter of con- 
 jecture and has no part in my tale. 
 
 I have always possessed considerable skill 
 with the small sword I ride well and find 
 hunting and shooting pleasing relaxations.
 
 I Find a Strange Chest 
 
 French and German, I learned as a child and 
 repeated visits to the continent have helped me 
 retain a readiness in both languages. 
 
 The bitterest experience of my life occurred 
 just before my uncle's death. A very beautiful, 
 but worldly woman, whom I had loved with a 
 wealth of tenderness, jilted me for a man of 
 greater substance, leaving me a misogynist and 
 almost a misanthrope. 
 
 My fortunes were on the ebb when opportu- 
 nity came in the person of Wertburger. It was 
 a great convenience to possess such a sum 
 at this moment. I was heartily sick of London 
 and England. I had none too pleasant mem- 
 ories to keep me at home, and I could now go 
 away for a year or so and get a new grip on 
 life. 
 
 Yes, I would leave these rooms. They were 
 comfortable enough as chambers go, but the 
 prospect from my windows was by no means 
 cheering to a man in my frame of mind. On
 
 io The Stolen Throne 
 
 the one side I had the Thames before me 
 dirty, sluggish and gloomy ! When I gazed out 
 of the front rooms, there were a grave yard 
 and the backs of old Strand buildings. 
 
 There was one compensation. Ted Antsley 
 lived on the floor below. Antsley pretended to 
 read law. He pretended at many things sheer 
 laziness kept him from attaining success in any 
 direction. But then Antsley had no need to 
 exert himself. A comfortable income from his 
 father's potteries gave him the opportunity and 
 wherewithal to indulge his inclinations. 
 
 Antsley was five years younger than myself. 
 He had started out in the army but one cam- 
 paign in the Soudan dulled his leaning in the 
 direction of the Service. A pretense at law 
 was his latest whim. No one ever took Antsley 
 seriously. Even people who liked no one but 
 themselves, usually found a little spot in their 
 regard for him. 
 
 His humorous eyes saved him from being
 
 No one ever took Antsley seriously"
 
 I Find a Strange Chest n 
 
 ugly. His impertinence rendered him a de- 
 lightful companion and intimate. He knew 
 everybody worth while and a world of impos- 
 sibles and he possessed the rare ability of 
 keeping himself in favor in the East and the 
 West End without giving offence to either 
 social strata. 
 
 He loved all women and therefore never fell 
 in love with any woman. He was then and is 
 to-day, the cleanest-souled gentleman of my ac- 
 quaintance. If life brought me nothing else of 
 worth, at least I have always had from him a 
 friendship dearer than brotherhood. 
 
 Wertburger had hardly gone, when I heard 
 Ted's step in the hall. 
 
 "Well, how did you come out ?" he asked. 
 
 I waved the checque before his eyes. "Look 
 _ for yourself," I said. 
 
 "Great!" was his comment. "Now you 
 can get away with me. Where shall we go 
 when shall we start? By the bye," he queried,
 
 12 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "did you see Whitworth's letter ? I left it here 
 last night. Thought you'd like to know how 
 Aubrey is getting along. He's attached to the 
 legation in Stromburg. Wrote me a ripping 
 fine note and wanted to know all about you and 
 the rest of his old friends." 
 
 "I saw the letter," I said, "but I didn't notice 
 it was open. Thought it had been left in my 
 rooms by accident, and put it away for you. I'll 
 get it," And I walked toward my desk. 
 
 It was a very old affair, this escritoire of my 
 uncle's. I have never seen one like it ; a great 
 square cabinet the upper part of which was 
 made up of compartments. Underneath there 
 was a tier of drawers and besides these a row 
 of shelves. 
 
 "Look into some of the other drawers, Tom," 
 drawled Antsley. "You're always throwing 
 your papers all over creation and then have to 
 spend a month to find anything you need." 
 
 But I was sure where I had placed the letter.
 
 I Find a Strange Chest 13 
 
 "Perhaps you pulled the drawer out too far 
 and it dropped through," he suggested. 
 
 "But that's just the point. It stops half way 
 and then it catches on something." 
 
 Antsley came over and began to examine 
 matters for himself. 
 
 "What a pretty piece of inlaying." He was 
 running his ringers over the black and yellow 
 blocks that formed the bottom of the drawer. 
 "Seems to be warped, doesn't it?" 
 
 He pressed on the spot as he spoke, and the 
 whole front swung outward, disclosing a space 
 into which a man could easily pass half his 
 body. 
 
 Antsley brought over my study lamp. There 
 lay our quarry in the midst of odds and ends of 
 _every description. But there was one thing 
 that caught and held my gaze a quaint old 
 metal casket secured with two locks, the keys 
 of which were still in them. The first we man-
 
 14 The Stolen Throne 
 
 aged to turn after some trouble, but the other 
 key snapped off under the strain ! 
 
 "Here, use these." Antsley handed me the 
 fire tongs. One smart tap knocked off both 
 hasp and lock. I drew back the lid. A folded 
 paper lay inside, and a yellow stained envelope 
 tied with narrow silk ribbons, which fell away 
 in powder, when touched. Underneath these, 
 I encountered a hoop of gold filigree. It was 
 studded with rough rubies of irregular size 
 and knobs of opal. In the center, set around 
 with brilliants of blue-white lustre, was a huge, 
 black diamond. The outside surface was con- 
 vex and there was an heraldic device carved 
 upon it. I made out a tiger, couchant, resting 
 upon a shield, above which was inscribed: 
 "Dulce est pro patria mori" A number of 
 rings, quaintly set, and about a handful of loose 
 gems covered the bottom of the box. 
 
 The shaded light from the lamp sported with 
 the fire of the gems.
 
 I Find a Strange Chest 
 
 Here was an Emperor's ransom ! 
 
 It was mine all mine a fortune, an inde- 
 pendence! Yet this, which once could have 
 meant all and everything to me, could now 
 have no worth. The diamonds were as glass, 
 the glowing rubies and sapphires, the soft-toned 
 emeralds, and the many tinted opals, mere col- 
 ored pebbles. Fortune had clanged on my 
 knocker when the day of her welcome was 
 gone. Did she think that this, the tag of her 
 bounty, could recompense for the empty heart 
 which her belated coming had left me ? 
 
 No ! I was not to be bought upon such terms ! 
 And in an access of bitterness I seized the royal 
 circlet and hurled it with all my force upon the 
 hearthstone. 
 
 _- The golden band bounded into the air and 
 fell with one side bent flat. Something rolled 
 across the floor, striking the table leg sharply. 
 Antsley picked it up.
 
 1 6 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "Why, you foolish beggar," he said, "You've 
 knocked the diamond out." 
 
 He tried to fit the stone back into the crown, 
 while I stared unseeingly through the window. 
 
 "See if you can read it," he said, handing 
 me a faded and discolored scrap of parchment. 
 "I found it here in the setting, but I can't make 
 out the scrawl." 
 
 "It's in some German dialect," I said, after a 
 long scrutiny. "I am not sure of it all, but this 
 much I can decipher: 'The fifth room from the 
 northeast corner, in the lower gallery of the 
 cathedral count seven stones in the first row, 
 then two to the right' ' 
 
 Curious now myself, I began to examine the 
 papers which we had removed from the chest. 
 "The Parker will," I cried suddenly. "I've 
 found it." 
 
 "Very interesting, I'm sure," said Antsley 
 in a naggish sort of way. He lay back on the 
 cushions, counting the rings sailing upward
 
 I Find a Strange Chest 17 
 
 from his cigarette. "Still, never having heard 
 of the Parker will, I am able to master my emo- 
 tion. Who was Parker? What is his will? 
 When did he make it ? Why in creation did he 
 ever lose it?" 
 
 "Sir Saunders Parker, I answered in tones 
 of quelching dignity (one must assume dignity 
 at times with Antsley his own family began 
 with his father), "was my great, great grand- 
 father! The first Parker " 
 
 "Oh, I know, one of the acorns that William 
 brought over with him as seed for the family 
 trees of England. Saved his monarch's life on 
 the field of battle rescued a forlorn damsel or 
 so from the castles of the most prominent, 
 neighboring barons then went into the 
 crusade line and carried the white man's burden 
 to the far East, which had burdens enough of 
 its own, without any additional ones of British 
 manufacture kindly skip it all, old man, I
 
 1 8 The Stolen Throne 
 
 know it by heart. Take a hurdle over the acorn 
 chaps and tell me about the 'will' Parker !" 
 
 "The 'will' Parker," I answered crisply, 
 "happened to occupy many offices of dignity 
 under his most august majesty, George III. 
 He was thrown from his horse while riding to 
 London, posthaste, to offer his sword and per- 
 son against the rebellious American colonies. 
 They found him dead in the road, his neck 
 broken. He had managed to scrawl a sentence 
 in the dust, which in the first excitement of the 
 tragedy, was unnoticed, and so all save the 
 
 words, 'look for will 
 
 in the ' were trampled out ! The 
 
 family searched unceasingly for years, but 
 until this time, all trace of the document was 
 lost." 
 
 There was one more paper. It was inscribed 
 in the following terms: "To my son, Henry 
 Seton Parker, being a true history of my ex- 
 periences at the court of Stromburg."
 
 I Find a Strange Chest 
 
 Antsley settled himself back on the cushions 
 and closed his eyes. "Now," he said, "for deeds 
 of might and daring. Enter conspirators and 
 maidens fair ho! for tales of rapier-thrust 
 and love ballade! Meanwhile, may I trouble 
 you to pass me a church- warden ?"
 
 Sir Sanders' 
 Story
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 "Sir Sanders' Story." 
 
 HERE are, my son, two well 
 defined periods in the lives of 
 most men. They lie on either 
 side of maturity. Youth, a 
 reckless, discontented fool, hies 
 him away to the astrologer and 
 begs his horoscope. Age, wise in the knowl- 
 edge that Time's bounties are but Grecian 
 gifts, wearily drops the tangled skein of the 
 fates and is content with what few poor strands 
 that can be straightened from the mesh. To- 
 night, as I sit telling the threads of the past, the 
 fragrance of roses is wafted across the seas, 
 roses heavily odoured and bedewed but the 
 dew that jewels bright upon their petals, is 
 tears , 
 
 "I had been two years with Lord Lyden at 
 Paris, when, through the influence of my
 
 24 The Stolen Throne 
 
 cousin Yarmouth, the modest billet of minister 
 to Stromburg was secured for me. I would 
 fain have remained at the gay French capital, 
 but disconcerting rumours of heavy play and 
 violent dissipation having reached my father's 
 ears, the mills of the ministry were influenced 
 to grind forth my appointment to the quaint 
 little kingdom where I was fated to pass the 
 rarest years of my maturity. 
 
 "Marcus, the reigning Duke, evinced from 
 the first a kindly regard for me, and in time a 
 bond of fellowship, nay, I may even say devo- 
 tion, grew between us. In the third year of 
 my incumbency an alliance was arranged be- 
 tween the Duke and Helga, daughter of 
 Leopold of Haldstadt. 
 
 "They were wed on Lady Marga's day, 
 when, in accordance with immemorial custom, 
 noble and commoner mingled freely and upon 
 equal terms. 
 
 "That night I first beheld your mother, then
 
 Sir Sanders' Story 25 
 
 a lady-in-waiting to the Duchess, and within a 
 year I espoused her. 
 
 "Fortune seldom grants such smiles as she 
 vouchsafed us. In the palace, too, Love was 
 chamberlain, and before two years had passed, 
 a man-child came to round out the happiness of 
 the royal sweethearts. 
 
 "A month after, you, my son, were born. 
 
 "But this Eden of ours must needs have its 
 serpent in the guise of a Nicholas of Holzdon, 
 powerful, unscrupulous, ambitious, and of iron 
 will. 
 
 "Surely slowly stealthily, he planted the 
 seed of discord among the nobles and waited 
 patiently for his foul harvest. Intrigue over- 
 lapped intrigue. Men at first kept their griev- 
 ances and lusts and greeds to themselves. 
 Then, confidences were exchanged and in the 
 end, there were regular assignations and open 
 plots. The very officers of the household be- 
 came rotten with infidelity.
 
 26 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "And all the while the duke dreamed at his 
 wife's side, refusing to look away from the 
 sunlight of his happiness to the darkening 
 clouds that were, all too soon, heavy to full- 
 ness. 
 
 "At length the night appointed by the con- 
 spirators arrived. Headed by Nicholas they 
 entered the palace and murdered Marcus. 
 
 "At the same hour General Altman was 
 killed as he lay sleeping beside his wife, 
 and Count Muraneff assumed control of the 
 army. 
 
 "By some kindness of fortune the Duchess 
 was able to reach the legation with her infant 
 son. She pledged your mother and myself to 
 the protection of the child and then entrusted 
 to my keeping a small iron chest. "Within this 
 casket," she said, "are state documents and my 
 own jewels. Beneath the black diamond in 
 the coronet is concealed that which will estab- 
 lish the identity of the Duke Andreas. If the
 
 Sir Sanders' Story 27 
 
 worst comes, promise me, by that love which 
 you bore his father, to take my son to Eng- 
 land and rear him as your own child. When he 
 shall have reached manhood, do you disclose 
 his parentage and tell him that it was his 
 mother's prayer, that he regain the throne of 
 his fathers'. 
 
 "After much persuasion we prevailed upon 
 her to remain under our protection but dur- 
 ing the night she eluded our watchfulness and 
 returned to the palace. They recognized her 
 as she entered the gate and a drunken lieuten- 
 ant of cavalry sabred her in the courtyard." 
 
 "A month afterwards (I having meanwhile 
 forwarded my resignation to London, with an 
 earnest plea for its acceptance) my successor 
 arrived, and I returned to England with you, 
 my son, and the young Duke. 
 
 "But I can write no more memory is in a 
 bitter mood to-night and a great heart-sickness 
 wells over me and forces me to cease."
 
 28 The Stolen Throne 
 
 There was one more page. It was written 
 upon a different stock and the handwriting 
 showed another mood than that which had held 
 the narrator in setting forth the first part of his 
 story. "The child Andreas I reared as my own 
 son, until he died, two years afterwards. It is 
 he, whom you have ever believed to be the 
 brother of your babyhood. A Grand Duke of 
 Stromburg, he sleeps beside his mother's loyal 
 friend, in this quiet English hamlet." 
 
 I folded up the papers and placed them back 
 into the chest. Antsley picked a Bradshaw 
 from the table and ran through its pages. 
 "Let' s see," he mused, "if we pack now there'll 
 be time to fix up a letter of credit, write a note 
 or so, send a wire to Aubrey Whitworth, and 
 catch the 9.45 to-night out of Victoria. Say, 
 Your Highness, where in thunderation do you 
 keep your telegraph forms?"
 
 The 
 
 Duke Alexis
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 "The Duke Alexis." 
 
 TROMBURG lies well toward 
 the North of Europe. It is a 
 mountain Kingdom, rugged 
 and frowning, rich with timber 
 and mines. Its position is 
 strategically splendid. Bul- 
 warks of granite gird the land and made it pos- 
 sible in by-gone ages for its people to hold their 
 own against the marauding hosts of the earlier 
 centuries, and afterwards against the land- 
 hungry armies of France, Germany and Aus- 
 tria. 
 
 The climate is delightful. The air sends a 
 tingle of wine through the veins. It is fragrant 
 with the breath of the balsam-covered hills. 
 In extent, it is a small land, of no great import, 
 except commercially. Its mines have recently 
 become famed for pitch-blende and other rare
 
 32 The Stolen Throne 
 
 materials, for which modern science has dis- 
 covered such multiform possibilities. 
 
 There are few cities in Stromburg, but the 
 most important of these is the capital, which 
 bears the same name as the State. The city 
 was founded by followers of Attila, who were 
 attracted by the defensive advantages of the 
 district as well as the richness of the low lands 
 along the Sarga. They built their wattle huts, 
 eased themselves of their weapons and settled 
 down to husbandry and hunting. 
 
 Aftertime the handful of shacks grew into 
 a village the village greatened into a town 
 the town became a city and as early as the 
 first teens of the Christian Era, Stromburg was 
 reckoned as a State of some magnitude and im- 
 portance. The star of her ascendency paused, 
 however, with Kaz, the Smith, under whose 
 leadership the peasants waged war upon their 
 over-Lords. His victorious arms added to the 
 realm, the contingent baronies of Wurlitz,
 
 The Duke Alexis 33 
 
 Damnar and Marburg. But his successors 
 were men of sloth dullards and dawdlers. 
 And so the land has stood stock-still in its i6th 
 Century shoes, a medieval kingdom, upon the 
 very doorstep of ultra-modernity. 
 
 Travelling facilities to Stromburg are very 
 bad. Its inaccessible location and the difficulty 
 of making connections with the greater traffic 
 systems, have as yet, spared it from the plague 
 of "Cookry." It drowses its peaceful life in 
 calmness and ease. The city will, however, well 
 repay any adventurous tourist, with its singular 
 beauty of location, and its quaintness. The tap 
 of the mason's trowel, the rasp of the carpen- 
 ter's saw, but seldom resound in her streets. 
 For centuries, row after row of unaltered 
 homes have stood, sentinels over the passing of 
 time, housing successive generations of fam- 
 ilies. Old rambling buildings line the narrow- 
 est of cobbled lanes. The soothing varnish of 
 the years has toned the garish decorations of
 
 34 The Stolen Throne 
 
 the house-fronts into neutral browns and ma- 
 roons. Bright vermillion dashes among the 
 centuried tiles spell occasional restoration. 
 Here and there some structure of a newer 
 school of archicecture flaunts itself parvenu- 
 ishly, envying in its heart of stucco and stone, 
 the fine old aristocrats among which it is so in- 
 congruously set. 
 
 In the very oldest part of the town the 
 streets are the original cow paths and twist and 
 turn with a line of direction that one would 
 naturally expect from bovine engineers. The 
 public fountains are, as of old, rendezvous for 
 gossiping housewives. The resounding whack 
 of wooden paddles comes from the banks of the 
 river, mingled with the chatter of girls and 
 women (the stationary wash-tub is as un- 
 known in Stromburg as the motor car and the 
 lift). 
 
 The guild houses are still standing and the 
 old town hall, with its inevitable clocked tower
 
 The Duke Alexis 35 
 
 lifts its gaunt faces to the heavens that have for 
 ages so mercilessly beat upon them with rain 
 and sun. There are dark alley-ways that lead 
 into passages from which a stranger might 
 emerge with more difficulty than from a crystal 
 maze. Bridges with crumbling piers and 
 rotting piles stand everywhere, although the 
 streams that once swept under them have long 
 ago dried. 
 
 Horses are rare in Stromburg, but there are 
 dogs everywhere great deep-chested brutes 
 with the long punishing jaw of the timber wolf 
 and the haunch of the Great Dane. 
 
 There are two Cathedrals (one very ancient) 
 and a modern Greek church. 
 
 The palace is not far from the great square 
 and back of it, the very oldest part of the town 
 sprawls along a slope which stretches from the 
 river to the edge of a plateau, on the further 
 rim of which, towers a range of shaggy, fir- 
 incrusted hills.
 
 36 The Stolen Throne 
 
 A lanky Englishman came down the station 
 platform as we alighted from the train. Ted 
 dropped his Gladstone and ran over to him. 
 
 "I'm bally glad you two have come," said 
 Whitworth, grasping my hand in both of his. 
 "I haven't set eyes on Ted since the Soudan 
 campaign. I say, doesn't the old rooster 
 look splendid? We'll go straight up to the 
 hotel. Christof here will attend to your bags. 
 Oh no, it isn't far enough to ride, we can foot 
 it in less than five minutes. I took the liberty 
 of making arrangements for you at the Con- 
 tinental. It's just across from our legation." 
 
 Mine host of the "Grand Hotel Continental" 
 came forward to greet us, uttering an effusion 
 of bows that threatened to unhinge his torso. 
 
 He was a very fat little man with a very thin 
 little beard. "Goodbye, gentlemens, goodbye," 
 he exclaimed in welcome. 
 
 Then he straightened up in the pride of his 
 linguistic attainments and proceeded to precede
 
 The Duke Alexis 37 
 
 us to our chambers. We faced the town-square 
 so that we had a capital prospect of the city 
 from our own windows. 
 
 Across the way the Royal George lazily 
 furled itself around its staff. 
 
 "Who's chief over at your place?" I asked 
 Whitworth. 
 
 "Burton. He's been here a year now. I 
 joined him the September after he came. You 
 fellows will like him hugely. He's the bulliest 
 chap in the service. A bit of a war cloud has 
 been focusing hereabouts, and the powers that 
 be, sent him on from Cairo to see to it that 
 there shall be no rainfall." 
 
 "What's the row concessions ?" 
 
 "Yes, and no. The whole matter's a perfect 
 hodge-podge. I'll tell you the situation some 
 t>ther time. You'll want a snack now you 
 surely must be famished after your trip." 
 
 There was a riotous outburst of laughter as 
 we entered the public room.
 
 38 The Stolen Throne 
 
 Mine host was remonstrating with a party of 
 drunken officers. 
 
 When he saw us, he left them and came for- 
 ward, followed by a little whipper-snapper in 
 the garish uniform of a lieutenant of cavalry 
 who insisted upon continuing the discussion. 
 He became so annoying that I lost my patience 
 and shoved him away. He reeled backward 
 and, losing his balance, sprawled on the sanded 
 floor. 
 
 Struggling to his feet he lurched over to me 
 and shook his fist impotently in my face, at 
 first, too violent in rage to phrase his mood. 
 
 At last he found his tongue. "You have in- 
 sulted me," he cried. "You have insulted the 
 army. I demand an apology. My friends shall 
 wait upon you in the morning." 
 
 "So you are insulted," I sneered. "How 
 you surprise me. From your manners I did 
 not think that could be possible." 
 
 I had piled Pelion onto Ossa. With a snarl
 
 The Duke Alexis 39 
 
 he drew his sabre and lunged at me. In- 
 stinctively I side-stepped, shot forth my arm 
 and caught his chin. He dropped to the floor 
 like a wet sponge. In an instant I was beset by 
 his companions. One hulking brute, hurling 
 his heavy stone mug, just missed me, only to 
 land, however, upon the well-developed paunch 
 of the excited landlord. 
 
 Whitworth attempted to quell the tumult but 
 could do nothing. I took refuge behind a table 
 and began to look about me for some sub- 
 stantial weapon of offense, when suddenly a 
 hush fell upon the room! Turning, I saw a 
 newcomer. 
 
 He was a big, bearded man, whose bulk gave 
 one an impression of sturdiness, rather than 
 stoutness. His eyes were fishy grey, set in 
 -long, Tartar slits. He was, I should judge, 
 about forty years of age. The early frosts of 
 life had tinged his temples with the first hoar of 
 age. His nose was shapely, if large, and re-
 
 40 The Stolen Throne 
 
 deemed from grossness by proud nostrils and a 
 good arch. His head sat rather close to his 
 shoulders; but not unpleasantly so. He wore 
 the picturesque uniform of a Cossack com- 
 mander, the long tunic with spreading skirts, 
 lending him the hour-glass figure, which is 
 characteristic of your continental army officer. 
 
 Whitworth bowed in recognition. The 
 "enemy" saluted and stood stiffly at attention. 
 The stranger glanced to the floor for one in- 
 stant and then lifted his eye to Whitworth's in 
 a quizzical stare. 
 
 Aubrey touched his arm and the two stood 
 aside and whispered earnestly for a few mo- 
 ments. 
 
 At the end of their conversation the stranger 
 beckoned one of the officers and spoke to him 
 for a moment. The man saluted and returned 
 to his companions. Lifting their still insensible 
 comrade to his feet, they left the room in silence.
 
 The Duke Alexis 4 1 
 
 In response to Whitworth's nod Ted and I 
 came over and joined him. 
 
 "Parker," he said, "you may thank the Duke 
 Alexis for a very fortunate outcome to what 
 promised to be an ugly affair. 
 
 "I fear, sir, that I have begun my stay in 
 Stromburg by making a rather nasty mess of 
 things," I murmured. 
 
 The Duke smiled. "Do not permit the inci- 
 dent to disturb you. I know the crowd. I 
 heard the sound of brawling from the street 
 and half divined that a 'military sortie' had 
 been made. Mr. Antsley, and you, my dear 
 Mr. Parker, I bid you good-night Mr. Whit- 
 worth, my respects." 
 
 "Who the deuce is he?" I asked. 
 
 Whitworth's face puckered into a grimace, 
 "That, my dear Parker, is our friend, the 
 enemy in brief, the hovering cloud of which 
 I spoke!"
 
 / Find a 
 Rose
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 '7 Find a Rose" 
 
 WAS surprised to find the next 
 day pass without the expected 
 challenge. Antsley (who is 
 nothing if not practical) bought 
 a pair of rapiers early in the 
 morning and fenced with me 
 until noon. Whitworth dropped in soon after 
 luncheon and brought with him a dissipated 
 looking individual whom he presented as Cap- 
 tain Helzer. The captain unjointed his waist 
 for one fleeting instant in acknowledgment of 
 the introduction and immediately resumed his 
 pose of nonchalance. Captain Helzer called in 
 behalf of his friend, Lieutenant Jansen, who 
 was somewhat indisposed and therefore begged 
 to be excused from attending in person. Lieu- 
 tenant Jansen desired to apologize for his indis- 
 cretion of the previous night and trusted that
 
 46 The Stolen Throne 
 
 the incident would be erased from my memory. 
 I hastened to assure the worthy captain of my 
 complete satisfaction, after which the four of us 
 drank so many toasts to the individual and col- 
 lective healths of the party that the "dove of 
 peace" was in the end reduced to a condition so 
 maudlin that we were forced to remain an un- 
 willing audience to a series of revelations which 
 would have brought the blush of shame to the 
 cheeks of Don Juan. Finally the thickened 
 tones became inarticulate, then ceased com- 
 pletely. Whitworth called a carriage and per- 
 sonally conducted our guest to his quarters in 
 the barracks. 
 
 Ted and I dined alone and after lighting our 
 cigars, set out to see the city. We crossed the 
 square and followed the first street we chanced 
 upon. It led us to a park where a fete of some 
 sort was in progress. Suddenly a domino 
 sprung from the shardows and struck Antsley 
 upon the mouth with a rose.
 
 A rakish individual whom he introduced as 
 Captain Helzer"
 
 I Find a Rose 47 
 
 "Not so fast, my lady," he cried, and began 
 pursuit. She fled into the gardens, we after 
 her. 
 
 "Look out, Parker, she's coming towards 
 you hold her!" I turned quickly and she 
 rushed fairly into my arms. 
 
 Back of the mask two glowing spots flashed 
 saucily then pit, pat! came her sharp French 
 heels cuttingly on my ankles there was a 
 ripping noise and I stood with a strip of torn 
 muslin in my hand. 
 
 A party of merry-makers coming down the 
 path opened up to let her through, then laugh- 
 ingly closed before Antsley. When he escaped 
 from their midst the girl had disappeared. 
 
 "We'll know her by this token of a torn 
 sleeve," I said. 
 
 "Token be damned! What were waists 
 made for?" he grumbled. "I'd have held her 
 fast enough Gods of Rome, what a scene!" 
 
 We were probably in the grounds of some
 
 48 The Stolen Throne 
 
 palace. The moonlight splintered in silver 
 sprays upon a noble pile of marble crowning- 
 countless tiers of terraces. The snowy pillars 
 caught the shimmering glow and gleamed 
 creamily against a blue-black sky powdered 
 with stars. 
 
 All around us and as far as the senses could 
 reach were roses thousands of bending 
 bushes that heavied the air with their fragrance 
 and made of fallen petals, a carpet rare enough 
 for Venus and the handmaidens of Olympus. 
 
 Mandolins tinkled in the shadows zithers 
 twanged love songs trembled in the passion- 
 ate air. From behind a clump of Jacqueminots, 
 came softly, the ardent, trembling plea of a 
 wooer. This was the garden of the Loves 
 yonder the temple of its mysteries. I tumbled 
 over on the grass and sprawled among the 
 petals. A half-blown blossom, swayed by the 
 lightly stirring wind, swept rhythmically across 
 my face and as I inhaled its breath, a song was 
 borne out into the night!
 
 I Find a Rose 49 
 
 There dwelt in the dim and misty past, 
 
 Beside the River Sarga, 
 
 A dragon drear 
 
 A thing of fear 
 
 Who loved the Lady Marga. 
 
 Oh, passing fair, 
 
 And wondrous rare 
 
 To see was Princess Marga! 
 
 The dragon swore he'd have for bride 
 
 Beside the River Sarga, 
 
 The king's own child, 
 
 The sweet and mild 
 
 And beauteous Lady Marga! 
 
 "Bring thou to me 
 
 "For wife," roared he, 
 
 "The lovely Princess Marga!" 
 
 They dared not rouse the dragon's wrath, 
 Beside the River Sarga, 
 In festal gown 
 And jewelled crown
 
 50 The Stolen Throne 
 
 Serene came Lady Marga. 
 
 With naught of fear, 
 
 Or sob or tear, 
 
 All brave, came Princess Marga. 
 
 "Alack, alas!" the old King cried, 
 
 Beside the River Sarga, 
 
 "Must all ends fail? 
 
 "Can naught avail 
 
 "My well-beloved Marga?. 
 
 "Can sword nor spell 
 
 "This monster fell 
 
 "And save my daughter Marga?" 
 
 In answer then the High Priest spake, 
 
 Beside the River Sarga. 
 
 "One man, I ween, 
 
 "May stand between 
 
 "This doom and Lady Marga! 
 
 "Armed with a rose 
 
 "He may oppose 
 
 "The fate of Princess Marga.
 
 I Find a Rose 
 
 "But he who would essay the task, 
 
 "Beside the River Sarga, 
 
 "Must first be sure 
 
 "Of soul as pure 
 
 "As that of Lady Mar gal 
 
 "Then must he lie 
 
 "Him down and die 
 
 "Instead of Lady Marga." 
 
 Forthwith sprang Max, a goatherd's son, 
 
 Beside the River Sarga. 
 
 A rose of red 
 
 He held. He said 
 
 "My life for Lady Marga!" 
 
 And straight he bore 
 
 Him to the shore 
 
 Where knelt the Princess Marga. 
 
 The dragon came he hurled the rose, 
 Beside the River Sarga. 
 "What wilt from me 
 "For this" cried she.
 
 52 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "A kiss, my Lady Marga." 
 
 The dragon bore 
 
 Him from the shore. 
 
 "I die in joy, sweet Marga!" 
 
 Thus came the joyance of the rose, 
 
 'Beside the River Sarga, 
 
 When royal miss 
 
 A lout may kiss, 
 
 As once did Lady Marga. 
 
 And none may say 
 
 A word of nay, 
 
 For thus kissed Princess Marga! 
 
 Antsley scrambled to his feet. "I'm going 
 to find a Marga beside the River Sarga." 
 
 "Oh, go to blazes if you want to !" I said and 
 went back into the joys of rose-madness. 
 
 Then I turned and saw her. 
 
 She had removed her mask and was twining 
 flowers in her hair. Spun gold it was, and
 
 I Find a Rose 53 
 
 all alight with the moonbeams that came 
 down out of God's heavens to fondle with and 
 play upon something rarer than they had ever 
 known in the skies. 
 
 "Oh, you all-beautiful of beautiful women !" 
 I murmured. "The gods are in a kindly mood 
 to-night and have sent you to my eyes. They've 
 found the moulds with which they cast Cleo- 
 patra and Helen of Troy and Dido and Thais 
 and all those women who were so lovely that 
 men still sing their beauty they've found 
 those moulds and in the very joy of the task, 
 they've cast and recast you in every one of 
 them until you became the unbelievable thing 
 you are ! You can't be real ! You were born of 
 the rose breath and the rose blush and the moon 
 glow!" 
 
 She looked up and smiled. 
 
 "Give me a rose from your hair," I pleaded. 
 
 "What! You exact payment for your im- 
 pudence ?"
 
 54 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "No, I crave largesse from one endowed with 
 all the bounties of the gods." 
 
 "The gods were kind enough to you, when 
 tongues were being recast !" 
 
 "Ah lady, your face would call a cloistered 
 monk from his paternosters and start him 
 a-singing love ballades ! 
 
 "I thought the troubadours had passed 
 away." 
 
 "Not so, behold me!" 
 
 "Ah, fortunate I, to command Apollo's 
 lute!" 
 
 "It is the queen's due," I answered. "Queen 
 of Beauty, Queen of Love, Queen of the 
 Roses!" I continued, "give me one blossom 
 from out of your abounding riches in Lady 
 Marga's name I plead for it. Oh, if there were 
 only a convenient dragon along the Sarga !" 
 
 "There are dragons along the Sarga," she 
 murmured absently. 
 
 "Give me the rose and I'll deliver you."
 
 I Find a Rose 55 
 
 "Here is your guerdon." She laughed and 
 tossed me a half blown bud. 
 
 I brushed the flower to my lips and, before 
 she could prevent me, I clasped her in my arms 
 and crushed her mouth with a kiss. 
 
 Struggling free, she stood, apanting, quiv- 
 ering fury! 
 
 "Oh, if I thought you knew," she hissed be- 
 tween clenched teeth, and went away into the 
 night. 
 
 "Sir Troubadour!" The voice came from 
 the other side of the bush it was Antsley's. I 
 found him with the missing part of the domino 
 which I carried in my pocket. 
 
 "Do you know what you just did?" he 
 queried, lighting a cigarette. 
 
 "I've found The Woman!" 
 
 His match blew out and he waited to strike 
 another before replying. 
 
 "Precisely," he said, "and by the same token, 
 Her Reigning Highness, Gurtha, Grand 
 Duchess of Stromburg!"
 
 / Ride with 
 the Duke
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 "1 Ride With the Duke." 
 
 IATURAL history divides the ass 
 family into something like four- 
 teen groups, but makes no men- 
 tion of that large and dis- 
 tinguished branch the human 
 ass; of which collateral, old 
 man, you happen to be a distinguished member ! 
 That's right, show your nature and sulk. Oh ! 
 but you've made a brilliant fool of yourself. 
 'Give me the rose and I'll deliver you.' That 
 from the misogynist of one brief week ago 
 the broken-hearted and forsaken one ! Parker, 
 in the strictest confidence, you're a damned 
 ass!" 
 
 This was at least the dozenth such scarify- 
 ing screed to which I had listened that morning, 
 after a heart-to-heart talk the night before, 
 which I had terminated by losing my temper 
 and turning the key in my door.
 
 60 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "It was better than a love scene at the Drury 
 Lane," he went on, "my, but you would have 
 brought down the house. By Gad, here's an 
 idea! Make it into a 'drammer' and play the 
 lead. If you could only get the Duchess to 
 co-star, you'd realize a fortune. I can see the 
 playbills now : 
 
 'The Distinguished Actor-Manager, 
 
 Mr. Thomas Parker, 
 Supported by Her Reigning Highness, 
 
 Gurtha, Duchess of Stromburg, 
 
 In the Season's Triumphant Success, 
 
 The Troubadour/ " 
 
 Whitworth came into the room. "I say, 
 what's the joke?" he asked. 
 
 I darted a furious, withal, appealing glance 
 at my tormentor. 
 
 "I've a great mind to tell him." 
 
 "If you do," I whispered, "I'll cut you for 
 quits, here and now."
 
 I Ride With the Duke 61 
 
 The laugh died out of his eyes at the de- 
 termined note in my voice. 
 
 "Get the nags for us ?" he asked Whitworth. 
 
 "Yes, they're downstairs now. But what's 
 amusing you so? Deuced piggish of you to 
 keep it all to yourselves. A fellow doesn't get 
 many chances to laugh among these stolid folk. 
 Well, if you won't you won't, so let's be off be- 
 fore the sun gets high." 
 
 We rode through the town at an easy canter 
 and set out for the hills. The crisp air took the 
 burn out of the sun's rays and turned August 
 into October. We soon had the city behind us 
 and were among the mountains within an hour. 
 
 I rode in silence, wrapped in the memories of 
 the night before. 
 
 I tortured myself with fantasies through 
 which there crept the sensuous fragrance of 
 roses. I swore that I would reach her, even 
 though she were the Czarina herself, and even
 
 62 The Stolen Throne 
 
 while I deluded myself with these dreams, I 
 knew that I was a fool ! 
 
 But, having eyes, I refused to see. I, who 
 had forsworn love, who still smarted from one 
 heart-scorch, was deliberately building- fires 
 anew, upon which I was to place my soul itself 
 and perhaps sear it for all time. 
 
 Whitworth's voice broke the thread of my 
 revery. "What do you think of His High- 
 ness ?" he asked. 
 
 "His Highness, you mean oh yes the 
 Duke! Yes, yes, that is who in thunder 
 iyhe?" 
 
 "A large, sharp, pricking thorn in the corps- 
 diplomatic's side. He's supposed to be in com- 
 mand of the field maneuvers of the Russian 
 Engineer Corps. The Czar's borders are only 
 a few hundred miles beyond the range of hills 
 there. Two years ago the Russian Government 
 invited itself 'by special request of the Duchess'
 
 I Ride With the Duke 63 
 
 to hold a review here and has been reviewing 
 ever since." 
 
 "But those officers the other night were not 
 Russians," I broke in. "Uncommonly queer, it 
 seems to me, his influence over them." 
 
 "The Duke Alexis is and is not. He wears 
 the uniform of the Czar and is at the same 
 time, potentially pretender to the throne of 
 Stromburg !" 
 
 This was interesting. I pressed nearer. 
 
 "Tell me about it." 
 
 "There's not much to tell. Russia is trying 
 to get him on the throne. France, Germany, 
 and England are determined to keep him off." 
 
 The sound of horses, hard ridden, broke 
 sharply on our ears. I turned in the saddle. 
 Alexis galloped out of the road to our right at 
 the head of a company of Cossacks. 
 
 A fine figure of a man he was. The joy of 
 life vibrated all through his being and showed 
 in his proud seat and royally posed shoulders.
 
 64 The Stolen Throne 
 
 His astrakhan cap with its white egret was 
 tilted to one side of his head. The sharp winds 
 of the hills had cut his cheeks into a ruddiness 
 that contrasted pleasingly with his yellow hair. 
 No man save a demi-centaur could have held 
 the white Arab beneath him, under such mas- 
 terful control. 
 
 He spoke to an orderly and the soldier left 
 his side and rode over to us. 
 
 We drew rein. The man addressed Whit- 
 worth. 
 
 "The Duke invites us to ride with him/' ha 
 said. 
 
 Alexis nodded for me to take place beside 
 him. 
 
 I must confess that I was pleased at his mark 
 of favor. The man fascinated me in some 
 untoward way. I could not help liking him, 
 despite the realization of the cruelty in his eyes 
 and the sneering lips that lied in habitual smile. 
 iHe considerately checked the pace of his stal-
 
 I Ride With the Duke 65 
 
 lion to accommodate my less mettlesome 
 mount." 
 
 "You ride well," he said. 
 
 "A Master of the Hounds must," I replied. 
 
 "Tell me of this great English sport." 
 
 "Ah!" he exclaimed when I described the 
 hunt, "your fox is a stupid fellow and a craven 
 who does not use his fangs. For me the glories 
 of a wolf hunt! Then, one has a worthy 
 quarry. Some day, perhaps you may know 
 what it is to ride after the wolf. But I warn 
 you there shall be wound for wound given 
 death bite for death bite. How long do you 
 remain in Stromburg?" 
 
 "A day a year who knows ?" 
 
 "Your mission is ?" 
 
 "Caprice. And you?" I asked. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps a 'day 
 perchance a year. Mr. Whitworth tells me 
 that he shall be at the Palace to-morrow. Do 
 you attend him?"
 
 66 The Stolen Throne 
 
 A thrill ran through me at his words and I 
 felt myself flush. He eyed me quizzically and 
 laughed. 
 
 "Your ride has reddened your face. Your 
 cheeks are red," he paused tentatively, "as 
 roses. Mr. Parker, what do you think of the 
 roses of Stromburg ? Are they not rare ?" 
 
 I moved uneasily in the saddle and mentally 
 consigned Antsley to regions unnamable, for a 
 hare-brained babbler. 
 
 "I did not think that the fire of romance 
 burned in the veins of you phlegmatic Britons," 
 he went on. "Really, my dear fellow, you were 
 entrancing. I couldn't for the life of me escape 
 eavesdropping. I was nearby with a dryad 
 of my own." 
 
 I felt like a fool. There are times when one's 
 love-pleadings grate damnably on the memory. 
 He saw that I was getting nettled and tactfully 
 changed the trend of the conversation to im- 
 personal topics.
 
 I Ride With the Duke 67 
 
 A carriage was sweeping in our direction 
 with a file of cavalrymen deployed to either 
 side. On the back seat sat an old man in the 
 uniform of a Chief of Staff. Alexis gave a 
 quick command in Russian and his company 
 drew up to one side of the road. When the 
 victoria was abreast of us Alexis raised his hat 
 in salute. 
 
 Then I saw that the carriage held another 
 occupant and at sight of her, a cry, too quick to 
 check, burst from my lips. She bowed to 
 Alexis but her eyes held no sign of recognition 
 for me. And yet they met and held my own 
 for one brief moment. But for the life of me 
 I could not read the message.
 
 The South 
 Gate at Eleven
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 'The South Gate at Eleven" 
 
 |S I sit here at the loom of mem- 
 ory, speeding my shuttle of 
 words, I find that mine is an 
 inept hand the fabric that I 
 weave is coarse and burred, its 
 pattern crude the tones in dis- 
 cord. I am indeed an ambitious craftsman for 
 I would gather the love-scented breaths of rec- 
 ollection and out of them tapestry the image of 
 the loveliest lady that ever God's grace 
 crowned, that you may know how utterly she 
 was above all womankind. 
 
 But it is not for clumsy words to justice the 
 moon-silver or the songs of the June woods 
 the softest imagery bruises their tender 
 beauty ! 
 
 How then may I tell you of Gurtha? 
 
 She towered above her women as Helen
 
 72 The Stolen Throne 
 
 must have shamed the beauties of the Trojan 
 court. 
 
 It was at once a million ages and a fleeting 
 second until I stood before her. And had it 
 not been that Antsley's jolting elbow brought 
 me back to earth, I swear that I should have 
 stood waiting there at the foot of the throne, 
 until the day of doom split the East. 
 
 As I made my bow she dropped her hand- 
 kerchief. I stooped for it at the same moment 
 as one of her maids-in-waiting. As our hands 
 touched for an instant, she slipped something 
 into my palm. 
 
 At the first favorable opportunity I un- 
 clenched my fingers and found a slip of paper. 
 It was unsigned and bore a single sentence : 
 ''The south gate at eleven to-night" 
 
 I was on hand long before the stated time. 
 
 Promptly on the appointed hour a woman 
 stepped through. As she walked into the light 
 I recognized her as the lady-in-waiting who
 
 The South Gate at Eleven 73 
 
 had pressed the message upon me. I walked 
 toward her and she instantly withdrew, beckon- 
 ing me to follow. Within, two officers stood at 
 attention. One remained at his post but the 
 other led us along a narrow passage that wound 
 upward to some height. At a curtained door 
 he stopped and signalled me to remain with 
 him, while the woman drew aside the draperies 
 and went within. Immediately she returned. 
 "Go through the door to your right," she whis- 
 pered. I turned the knob, and, coming directly 
 out of the darkness, was at first blinded by the 
 light. 
 
 Then, as my eyes became accustomed to the 
 brightness, I found myself in the presence of 
 the Grand Duchess. 
 
 For some while she merely stared at me with 
 impersonal scrutiny when she did speak her 
 words stung into me like the bite of cold steel. 
 "Once a kinswoman of mine gave her lips for 
 kiss to a man of the people. He died that she
 
 74 The Stolen Throne 
 
 might live. They say that when he met his 
 fate, his face was lit with a smile and there 
 was song in his soul ; for he had been honored 
 above all his fellows and there was no man, 
 among the nobles of her father's court, who did 
 not envy him his lot and wish to be in his stead. 
 For we of Stromburg have ever been proud 
 and haughty women, and we count our virtue 
 above the crown itself." She paused a moment 
 then continued: 
 
 "When you first saw me you did not know 
 my identity. It was a new experience for me 
 to be as the other women are, and to know men 
 as they know them. It was a pretty play. You 
 were not content to have it so. You must needs 
 crush the butterfly hour. But I was generous 
 I did not have you punished. If by chance 
 you did learn the truth, I thought that you 
 would understand and leave Stromburg. But 
 you remained. You cheapened me. Yesterday 
 when my carriage passed you in the Griinwold
 
 The South Gate at Eleven 75 
 
 you dared raise your shameless eyes to mine for 
 recognition. To-day, cloaked with the position 
 of your friends, you presumed to enter my 
 palace. That was the ultimate insult. I did 
 not wish a scene. I knew of no other way to 
 make you realize how hateful I find your pres- 
 ence in Stromburg and so I have made this 
 rendezvous to tell you that you must pay for 
 your unutterable insolence by crossing my 
 borders to-night." 
 
 "Your Grace," I answered, and my tones 
 trembled at the hurt of her contempt. "I am 
 an Englishman and when we play we pay. As 
 for shame, I feel none. Shame is the self- 
 acknowledgment of wrong. It is no wrong for 
 a man to love a woman. For when first I saw 
 you then I loved you with all the heart in me. 
 Love is God in man. It is truth that sees noth- 
 ing hears nothing knows nothing, save it- 
 self. I did not know who you were I only saw 
 what you were all else was nothing. Had you
 
 The Stolen Throne 
 
 sat in your coronation robes with the sceptre in 
 your hand and the crown upon your head, I 
 should have loved you. Had I found you in 
 the scullery of a wayside inn, I should have 
 loved you !" 
 
 She walked to where I stood and placed both 
 her hands upon my shoulders. Long and 
 earnestly did she look into my eyes. 
 
 And I trembled in every tendon at the con- 
 tact. 
 
 "I think I shall trust you," she said.
 
 / Undertake 
 a Mission
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 7 Undertake a Mission." 
 
 EYOND the palace grounds 
 there is an inn, much frequented 
 by Russian soldiers. As Gurtha 
 spoke there was a crash of glass 
 and immediately after a party 
 of horsemen began to tear up 
 and down the street ululating like fiends. 
 
 One dare-devil stood up in his saddle and 
 danced from side to side as he galloped along. 
 Up and down he rode the others thunder- 
 ing after him, making the night a livid hell with 
 their cries. 
 
 Gurtha stood at the window watching the 
 _scene. 
 
 "The dogs," she muttered through her 
 clenched teeth. A bell cord hung near her. 
 She seized it and tugged with all the might of 
 her woman's arm. While she was still ringing,
 
 8o The Stolen Throne 
 
 the officer who had remained in the passage, 
 rushed into the room, his face torn with ex- 
 citement, naked sabre in hand. His eyes threat- 
 eningly sought me and questioningly Gurtha. 
 
 "Andrew," she commanded, "To-morrow go 
 to the Duke and present my compliments. Tell 
 him it is my will that his Cossacks be kept 
 within barracks at night. Tell him that I am 
 annoyed by their outbursts that I await an 
 apology for this outrage. Go !" 
 
 An instant later we could hear him pacing 
 down the corridor, his scabbard beating the 
 stones. 
 
 "Your Grace has honored me with her trust," 
 I began, taking up our conversation at its cut 
 "a trust without a confidence is a setting that 
 lacks its jewel." 
 
 "Listen, then !" she burst forth. "What you 
 saw this moment is but one of the many 
 forms of insult that have been continuously 
 thrust upon me for months. I am a wax
 
 I Undertake a Mission 81 
 
 doll on a toy throne. To-morrow even 
 to-night, Russia may demand my abdication. 
 Thus far the jealousy of the other powers 
 has been my only buffer. First Russia pro- 
 posed that I marry Orloff, the Czar's cousin. I 
 rejected the match. Then they wanted me to 
 marry Alexis. I refused him. I'll wed as I 
 choose, and when I choose and whom I choose. 
 Finally the Russian War Office intimated that 
 it would be honored by an ' 'invitation" to 
 manoeuvre an army corps in Stromburg. The 
 request was a veiled command, and I complied. 
 
 "A month later Alexis came to press his suit 
 in person. He talked of love of devotion of 
 passion. I laughed at him as I had laughed at 
 the state marriage brokers. When they found 
 .that they could not marry Gurtha they began 
 plans to marry Stromburg. 
 
 "Blitzow, the sharpest claw of the White 
 Bear, has been transferred from Paris to this 
 unimportant duchy. Already he has insinuated
 
 82 The Stolen Throne 
 
 to my ministers that I must reconsider my re- 
 fusal of Alexis whom he now advances as a 
 claimant to my throne." 
 
 "But the man is a Russian," I cried. 
 
 "They swear that he is the direct descendant 
 of Marcus, whose reign antedated the Holz- 
 dorn dynasty. Russia threatens to support his 
 pretensions if needs be by force !" 
 
 "But surely the other powers will never per- 
 mit this !" 
 
 "Wait until the crux is reached. England 
 will roar France will threaten the Kaiser 
 will bluster, but, depend upon it, when the bear 
 growls they will leave the field. They no longer 
 fear Russia but they do mistrust one another. 
 Europe is not yet ready for the grand war of 
 the century, nor is Stromburg a prize worthy 
 of its precipitation. What plans are being 
 hatched in the old Cathedral " 
 
 At these words I sprang to her side every
 
 I Undertake a Mission 83 
 
 sense alert ! In my eagerness I even laid hold 
 of her arm. 
 
 "The Cathedral ?" I questioned. 
 
 "The Russians are barracked there " 
 
 "My God! I think I see." 
 
 "What do you mean what do you know?" 
 
 "Your Grace, to-morrow I may be able to tell 
 you much that you would not now understand." 
 
 I had already gained the door when her voice 
 arrested me. 
 
 "Stop !" she cried imperiously. 
 
 I returned to her side. 
 
 "Your Highness," I said, "you told me a 
 little while ago that you would trust me. Begin 
 now. Give me to-night for myself and you 
 may command all my life after." 
 
 In a moment I had reached the street. I 
 hailed a passing fiacre. When we reached 
 the hotel I threw a handful of silver into the 
 astonished palm of the man and rushed up the 
 stairs three steps to the stride. Antsley was in
 
 84 The Stolen Throne 
 
 the room with Christof. "What in thundera- 
 tion is the matter ?" he cried. 
 
 Christof discreetly withdrew to the keyhole 
 from which coign of vantage Antsley immedi- 
 ately coaxed him with a kick. 
 
 "Ted," I cried, "I've seen her." 
 
 Then I told him everything. 
 
 "Well, what in the deuce are you going to 
 do ?" he asked when he had heard me out. 
 
 "I'm going to the Cathedral and get what the 
 old queen hid under the stone. I'm going to 
 get it if I have to dig up every block in the 
 place." 
 
 "And if it's gone?" 
 
 "Then I'll know Russia's game and I'll 
 block it!" 
 
 "Nice contract," he drawled. "Here is a 
 man setting out to do that, single-handed, which 
 all the king's horses and all the king's men 
 wouldn't dare tackle with all the king's navy to 
 back 'em up."
 
 I Undertake a Mission 85 
 
 I slid a revolver into my pocket and took 
 down one of the rapiers Ted had bought. He 
 fished out a curved-end chisel from the depths 
 of his trunk and handed it to me. Where on 
 earth he had secured it, or how, I never learned. 
 Slipping into the hall, I crept softly down the 
 back stairs, noiselessly drew the bolts and 
 stepped out into the street. In the distance the 
 massive spires of the cathedral rose towering 
 to the heavens, their golden crosses resting in 
 the bosom of the stars.
 
 Ecarte
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 "Ecertt." 
 
 moon was n a pryng 
 humor that night but there was 
 a deep shadow under the trees 
 and I walked along without be- 
 ing observed. I reached the 
 Cathedral just as the watch was 
 being changed, so I slunk back into the trees 
 until the sentry had started off on his rounds. 
 The moment he turned the corner, I stole across 
 to the gate but found that it was barred. 
 This was unfortunate, as I could not risk the 
 fence, tipped as it was, with spearheads. While 
 I was debating what to do, I heard the rumble 
 of wheels and the soldier returned walking be- 
 side a heavy cart. 
 
 The gate creaked open and the wagon passed 
 in. Soon I heard the cart returning. I stole 
 to the shadow of one of the granite posts and
 
 90 The Stolen Throne 
 
 picking up a rock, threw it straight ahead 
 of me. 
 
 "What's that," I heard the soldier say. 
 
 He and the driver craned their necks in the 
 direction of the noise. 
 
 "It sounded as though something fell," the 
 man replied. 
 
 Here was my opportunity. Crouching under 
 the body of the wagon I crawled across the 
 stretch of moonlight on my hands and knees. 
 They were too intent to notice me and I slipped 
 within and managed to reach a great oak be- 
 side the path. After a moment of listening the 
 soldier laughed. 
 
 "Oh, I guess it was nothing. Good-night, 
 Heinrich, and don't forget to carry my love to 
 your sweet Beulah. She's far too pretty and 
 buxom to keep cooped up in the country with 
 pigs." 
 
 "Better with pigs in the country than in the 
 barracks" was the sharp reply.
 
 Ecarte 9 1 
 
 The gate was barred again, the sentry re- 
 turned to his little shed, and resting his head 
 against its side, soon fell asleep. 
 
 I ran across the grass, always keeping 
 within the shadows, and soon gained the build- 
 ing. I paused for a moment to get my bear- 
 ings, then counted five windows from the north- 
 east corner of the building. With the aid of 
 the vines with which the walls were covered, I 
 soon grasped the ledge. The rapier was in my 
 way, however, so I took it between my teeth 
 and selecting a place where the leaves were 
 fewest so as to make the least possible rustle, I 
 drew myself up. 
 
 I made more noise than I thought, however, 
 for as I was steadying myself on the precarious 
 footing I was suddenly seized by the legs. Then 
 a revolver-barrel was pressed against my side. 
 Glancing down I saw that it was Alexis. 
 
 He evidently did not distinguish my features 
 in the darkness for he called out to know who
 
 92 The Stolen Throne 
 
 I was and what I wanted. Seeing that escape 
 was impossible, I released my bite upon the 
 sword, letting it fall with a dull thud upon the 
 grass. 
 
 "It's I, Parker." 
 
 "Pray come in out of the night air, mon cher 
 ami," he said, and motioned me into the room. 
 A lamp was burning on the table but a thick 
 shade over the window had completely cloaked 
 its rays from without. 
 
 "First pass me your revolver. I shall retain 
 it as a souvenir. Rapier, revolver, and as I 
 live, a curved chisel. How romantic of you to 
 come and rob me, of what shall I say of my 
 sleep? Do pour yourself a bit of cognac you 
 must be quite exhausted after such an arduous 
 climb, and pray be seated. No, not there. You 
 would be too near the window and the night 
 air might prove a bit injurious to your consti- 
 tution."
 
 Ecarte 93 
 
 I took the chair he indicated, at the farthest 
 end of the room. 
 
 "Well," I remarked, "What do you propose 
 to do with me?" 
 
 "Really, I haven't as yet considered the situ- 
 ation. Your visit is quite a surprise. You see 
 your message failed to reach me." 
 
 "What message?" 
 
 "Why, surely you sent word that you in- 
 tended to spend the lonely morning hours with 
 me. You can't imagine how much I appreciate 
 your delicate consideration. But, pardon me. 
 I forget myself. Do you care for a cigarette. 
 No? I'm sorry that I haven't a cigar as you 
 may prefer the more substantial smoke !" 
 
 I drew a per fee to from my pocket and, light- 
 ing it, settled back into the chair. He leaned 
 forward and waved an airy hand to me. 
 
 "You are such a delightfully unconventional 
 chap," he went on. "Now that was a unique 
 idea of yours to choose the window instead of
 
 94 The Stolen Throne 
 
 the door. We, of the continent, are so com- 
 pletely bound by convention and propriety." 
 
 He placed my revolver on the table, keeping 
 it within a second's reach. 
 
 "But I am delighted to have you here and 
 shall enjoy your companionship. Queer quar- 
 ters, eh ? The building was originally a cathe- 
 dral. These lower chambers are very quiet and 
 removed. You will notice how remarkably 
 preserved the place is ! They built well, the old 
 masons. Observe the walls, for example! 
 How ponderous they are! Why an artillery 
 salute, fired here, would scarcely be heard a 
 revolver shot, never!" 
 
 He paused to light a fresh cigarette and 
 puffed it abstractedly. He took up my revol- 
 ver and toyed with the chambers, twirling them 
 'round and 'round examining the cartridges. 
 Then he arose and walking to my chair, stood 
 for a while peering into my face.
 
 Ecarte 95 
 
 "Parker," he said, "You are foolish. Why 
 weren't you content with your fox. This time 
 you're after game much too big for you. 
 Don't deceive yourself. I am aware of your 
 little rendezvous to-night. And so you thought 
 to pit yourself against me." He laughed softly. 
 "The woman has indeed made a fool of you." 
 He paused and reflected a moment, was irreso- 
 lute and then shook his head with decision. 
 
 "I'm not going to ask you to come over to 
 our side. I know how stubbornly loyal you 
 Englishmen are. On the other hand, you can't 
 reasonably expect me to permit you to depart. 
 It is quite unfortunate! And yet the incident 
 to follow will be so uninteresting and colorless ! 
 Why, it's like hunting deer in a treeless en- 
 " closure. I'm half inclined to make it a bit ex- 
 citing throw some red light on the scene and 
 spice the affair with a dash of the dramatic. 
 Ah," ruminatingly, "it's not a bad idea at all." 
 
 "Are you a good card player?" he asked
 
 96 The Stolen Throne 
 
 presently. Then without waiting for my reply 
 he went on. 
 
 "I think we shall make it ecarte. It will be 
 so apropos, you know kings and queens play 
 such a vital part in the short deck. Come, my 
 friend, while we live let us make the most of 
 our earthly pleasures. As the poet says, 'Life 
 is short and joys are fleeting/ Correct me if I 
 misquote. But we must have a stake. Now 
 what can possibly make the play worth while 
 to you ? Let me see let me see. Suppose we 
 say rapiers, eh?" He motioned to a pair of 
 swords on the wall behind him. 
 
 I jumped up . 
 
 "Is this a trick?" I demanded. 
 
 "My friend," he answered softly, "you are 
 excited." 
 
 He motioned me to a pack of cards on the 
 table. 
 
 "Cut for deal What a game it will be ! Of 
 course, it's all the same thing in the end. At
 
 Ecarte 97 
 
 any event I shall make sure that you are no 
 longer an interference to my plans and as a 
 sportsman I don't know but that I prefer to see 
 you hold the winning card. At the best you 
 have one chance in ten to sugar your morning 
 coffee." 
 
 "I'll take the tenth chance and enjoy the 
 pleasure and the coffee,"! retorted. 
 
 "First win the sword." 
 
 "I mean to," I replied. 
 
 "Cut," he commanded. 
 
 "What have you?" I asked. 
 
 "The knave of hearts and you ?" 
 
 "The queen of spades," I replied. 
 
 "An augury!" he exulted. "You see the 
 fates are with me. The knave holds highest 
 .-power in our game the queen is vanquished 
 at the start. 
 
 "Play," I answered. 
 
 "The trump is hearts. I lead the ace of 
 spades to which your queen falls. Now I play
 
 98 The Stolen Throne 
 
 the knave of hearts and take your ten. I fol- 
 low with the ace of diamonds." 
 
 I caught the trick with the trump ace and 
 threw out the ace of clubs, catching his king. 
 
 "It grows delightful," he said. "Even 
 tricks!" 
 
 I still held the queen of hearts. I threw the 
 pasteboard on the table and leaned forward. 
 Would the man never play ! He bent over the 
 board studying my lead. It was a gamble for 
 a throne ! The pictured monarchs had sprung 
 to life the fate of Stromburg lay in the cast 
 of the Russian. And as I sat waiting for him 
 to end his farce I swore by that which was 
 strong and sure and cunning in me to kill this 
 man ! At last he threw down the card it was 
 the nine of hearts. He had fluked with his 
 knave! "The queen wins!" I cried, "and by 
 God's grace she'll reign on and hold her 
 throne!" Then some heaven sent inspiration 
 seized me and I leaped forward, just in time to 
 grasp his hand as he raised the revolver !
 
 / Slay the 
 Dragon
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 7 Slay the Dragon." 
 
 |Y hell, you shan't," I cried. 
 "You'll play fair." We swayed 
 over the opposite sides of the 
 table and in the struggle it over- 
 turned, hurling him to the floor. 
 Quick to seize my advantage, I 
 leapt upon it driving all the breath from his 
 body and leaning over, grasped his hand, easily 
 wrenching the revolver from his weakened 
 grip. Soon he was purple with suffocation but 
 terror gave him voice and blanched his face, 
 mottling its horrible greenish white with livid 
 spots. I placed the muzzle against his fore- 
 head, but could not bring myself to press the 
 trigger. 
 
 The horror of death crept into his eyes, and 
 in his terror he sobbed like a child. 
 
 "God knows you don't deserve it," I cried,
 
 102 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "but I can't do murder. Get up and take a 
 sword." 
 
 At the first kiss of the steels I knew that he 
 was my master. I have met the best men of 
 their day at Heidelberg. I have seen Aubrun 
 make the cleverest swordsmen of the French 
 army seem like gawky country louts. But this 
 man was surpassing. 
 
 His rapier darted with the swiftness of a 
 viper's tongue. Now his grip was adamant 
 again he scarcely seemed to grasp his 
 blade. He divined my every thrust and parried 
 it with supercilious ease and grace. I did not 
 dare expose myself. Mine was a play of de- 
 fense. Once he forced me back into a corner 
 and rained blow after blow so fiercely and con- 
 tinuously that my arm became numb and had 
 he not slipped upon the cards, lying scattered 
 on the floor, I would have had my coup de 
 grace then and there. As it was, his point 
 tore me in a ripping slash from breast to waist,
 
 I Slay the Dragon 103 
 
 drawing the blood in pumping, sickening 
 spurts 
 
 As we fenced, Alexis grew more resourceful 
 and calm, and gradually changed his play, dis- 
 continuing the furious onslaughts but circling 
 'round me instead, feinting in such wise as to 
 seemingly lay himself open hoping to draw 
 a thrust from me. But I had learned his power 
 and was not to be tempted. 
 
 A calm had come upon me, too, but it was 
 that of despair. The loss of blood was telling 
 upon my strength and clouding my eye. Every 
 time I moved my sword-arm, the wound seemed 
 to tear itself agape. My shirt was drenched. 
 The thick, warm stream oozed down my leg 
 and when I stamped my foot, there was a soggy 
 swish. 
 
 The end could not be far off. What a fool 
 I was, not to have blown out his brains when 
 he lay helpless under the table ! 
 
 God knows I did not want to die ! Life held
 
 104 The Stolen Throne 
 
 too much just then. Morning had begun to 
 break. A copper streak was dyeing the horizon, 
 casting its metallic glow up toward the stars 
 as they stared down on me in my despair. And 
 I had to know the night just when the day of 
 life was dawning. I wondered if Gurtha would 
 ever know that I had given my life to her 
 cause? Perhaps in the end, she would wed 
 him ! No, hell's own furies, no, not that ! The 
 very thought burned a strengthening jealousy 
 within me. I might die, but God would give 
 me might to keep this man from reigning in 
 Stromburg. I felt my veins surge with a hotter 
 pulsing. My lips bled where I crunched my 
 teeth into them. Something of what was flash- 
 ing through my brain must have shown in my 
 face, for Alexis withdrew a pace and became 
 more cautious. I made an advance upon him 
 and managed to tear his cheek. I laughed at 
 ' the sight of his blood. I reviled him. I taunted 
 him. I jeered at his pretensions. I sneered
 
 I Slay the Dragon 105 
 
 at his chances. I called him adventurer 
 and mountebank, I mocked at his origin. 
 I soon had him lashed into a fury. He was 
 no longer the calm, calculating duelist, but 
 a demon frenzied with passion, thrusting, 
 slashing, driving his way around the room, 
 uttering horrible, gurgling snarls, like a 
 dumb man on the rack. I drew back from him, 
 holding his eyes with my own. I led him on to 
 where he had wounded me. We were in the 
 corner. He was now standing on the scattered 
 cards, this time slimy with my blood. I 
 crouched low and stealthily lifted one foot high 
 against the wall, pressing all my energy into 
 that leg as one would bear down upon a coiled 
 spring. With a chuckle he drew back to spit 
 me and in his eagerness exposed himself. It 
 was my moment. Crouching like a leopard be- 
 fore his strike, I hurled myself with the force 
 of a catapult straight at him. The savagery 
 and impetus of my attack dismayed him he
 
 io6 The Stolen Throne 
 
 started back but slipped upon the cards and 
 lost his guard. 
 
 My shortened sword bit into him while he 
 was still falling and, missing his heart, dug 
 through the throat up, up to the brain, fasten- 
 ing itself into the very bones of his head. There 
 was a sickening spurt of blood that caught me 
 full in the face and he was dead. 
 
 His head fell upon the fateful stone. Shud- 
 dering at the touch of him, I rolled the still 
 pulsing body to one side and, kneeling, pried 
 out the seventh block. 
 
 Reaching down my hand closed on a bundle 
 of papers with which I at once hastened to the 
 lamp. There were some official documents, an 
 unmounted miniature of a girl holding an in- 
 fant in her .arms, and a faded letter addressed 
 to Andreas, Grand Duke of Stromburg, of 
 Damnar, of Wurlitz, of Marburg, Baron Garth 
 and a list of other titles which I did not take 
 time to decipher. The formal instruments I
 
 :>IL 
 
 'i-~^4 - 
 
 If
 
 I Slay the Dragon 107 
 
 merely glanced through, they were only im- 
 portant as establishing the status of Helga's 
 son. But this letter aroused my interest. It 
 was a brave message to the child she was never 
 again to see, a command that he fulfill the des- 
 tiny of his blood, a cry for vengeance upon the 
 wrong done his line. But it was more than a 
 mother's appeal, it was besides, a wise, far- 
 sighted woman's love reaching up from the 
 grave to guide her son's future; for, realizing 
 that Sir Seton's testimony of events and even 
 the papers and jewels in his possession might 
 be subject to discredit, Helga had set forth in 
 her own hand, the events that led to Andreas' 
 flight and the trust imposed upon my ancestor. 
 Point for point, it tallied with Sir Seton's own 
 _-story, and attested with her personal seal, it left 
 but little vestige of doubt as to the legitimacy of 
 the child's succession. 
 
 "Yet of what avail now," I mused, as I 
 placed the papers in my pocket. After all, they
 
 io8 The Stolen Throne 
 
 were worthless and I had bought them at the 
 highest bid in the auction of circumstance, 
 with the life of a fellow man. At the thought 
 I shook with a chill and the high tension by 
 which I had been held, relaxed. A fit of laugh- 
 ter the hysteria of a man who has just stood 
 on the verge of the eternal, and who has held 
 his own by the merest whim of fate, overcame 
 me. I wanted to lie down and give way to the 
 impulses that were seeking to dominate my 
 will, but I realized that at any moment some- 
 one might find me there. The same surge of 
 warning urged me to remove all clues that 
 might lead to an after-discovery. I fitted the 
 stone back into its place, found my revolver and 
 chisel and cautiously opened the casement. 
 
 The dizziness which I had experienced dur- 
 ing the struggle tried to return to me, but I 
 gritted my teeth and willed it away, stepped 
 upon the ledge and, holding to the vines with a 
 grip that tore my palms, clambered down to
 
 I Slay the Dragon 109 
 
 safety. With faltering steps and every sense 
 as alert as I could rouse it, I manouevered my 
 way back to the gates. My first thought was to 
 wait until they were unbarred and trust to 
 Providence for an unnoticed exit. But it was 
 asking too much of opportunity to expect the 
 same chances that had favored me when I en- 
 tered. There was only one egress left, the 
 fence, and I was not equal to the strain of 
 mounting it. 
 
 Then it came to me that I had left my rapier 
 lying under the window, where it had fallen 
 when I essayed the vines. If that were discov- 
 ered, it would certainly lead to my detection, as 
 its newness would suggest a careful round of 
 the shops and maybe result in my connection 
 with the tragedy. 
 
 So back again I slunk, and, feeling around in 
 the high grass, found the sword. 
 
 By this time my wound was paining me fear- 
 fully and I had to sit down until the more vio-
 
 no The Stolen Throne 
 
 lent paroxysms eased a bit. Already the east- 
 ern sky was aglow and its light showed me a 
 file of soldiers emerging from an outbuilding at 
 the other end of the grounds. They did not 
 catch sight of me, for I instantly flattened my- 
 self. And very happily, too, for in doing so I 
 discovered an unbarred window opposite my 
 head. It evidently belonged to a chamber un- 
 der the nave of the cathedral. 
 
 There was no doubt now, that any attempt to 
 leave by the regular exit would be futile. I had 
 no alternative. I must try this opening. So, 
 arousing sufficient energy to crawl over to it, 
 I clutched the sill, set my arms for a long drop, 
 and, to my surprise, found that my feet touched 
 the ground as soon as I allowed my limbs to 
 fall. I stood in a low passageway. Far ahead 
 of me a slit -of light showed itself dully. I re- 
 moved my shoes and creeping along in my 
 stockinged feet, came in a short while to an 
 unsecured door, beyond which lay water. It
 
 I Slay the Dragon in 
 
 was one of the city's canals and not far away 
 were the tottering steps of an old bridge. 
 
 Within another hour, what with dodging 
 and caution, I found my way back to the Con- 
 tinental. I had barely sufficient strength to 
 crawl to my room and hide my blood-stained 
 garments deep down in my trunk to roughly 
 bind the cut in my side to dimly realize that 
 Antsley had come through his door and was 
 helping me into bed when unconsciousness 
 stole my senses and I faded into nothingness.
 
 of the Duchess
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 'The Peril of the Duchess" 
 
 HRISTOF was excited. He 
 bustled around arranging and 
 disturbing anything upon which 
 he could lay his hands, punctu- 
 ating his movements with sighs 
 and ominous shakings of the 
 head. When Frieda came with the linens, he 
 slipped out into the hallway after her, and I 
 could hear them whispering together. 
 
 "They've brought him to the palace and he's 
 there in the great hall with soldiers all around. 
 The master says they are going to take away 
 our lady." 
 
 The man's reply was inarticulate, but 
 
 through the half open door I could see the 
 
 twitching of his neck muscles and he gripped 
 
 fiercely the great horn-handled knife in his belt. 
 
 "If they do by the good God "
 
 n6 The Stolen Throne 
 
 Frieda held a warning finger to her lips and 
 drew him out of earshot. 
 
 A moment afterwards he came back into the 
 room. 
 
 Had I heard the dreadful news ? No ? The 
 great Duke Alexis had been found dead in a 
 small room of the old Cathedral with a sword- 
 thrust through his neck. No one knew when 
 or how he died. All the sentries were under 
 arrest, but it was common rumor that they 
 were not really suspected. It was said but no, 
 he must say nothing. One must be as deaf 
 and dumb as Old Peter Strumpf at such a time 
 when a word would set a man to counting the 
 stones of a dungeon cell. Still it was said 
 he must whisper very closely to my ear that 
 the Russians were coming to seize the country 
 and take her away. He had heard too 
 
 But I had already listened too long. 
 
 "You may go now, and Christof a still 
 tongue remains in its mouth many years."
 
 The Peril of the Duchess 117 
 
 My God, what was there to do ? I sat down 
 on the bed. My head jumped and throbbed 
 with crazed uncertainty. How plain it all was ! 
 Russia would regard Alexis' death as a pretext 
 to seize Stromburg. Gurtha would be made 
 the scapegoat. And I had rendered the way 
 easy for it. My plans had carried but their 
 fruition lay in the hands of the enemy. And 
 here I lay swathed with bandages and likely to 
 be upon my back for days. 
 
 Something had to be done. Weak and fever- 
 ish though I was, I managed by sheer hysteria 
 to rise and get into my clothes. I drew out 
 the iron box. The papers, the coronet and the 
 jewels were still there, mockingly safe. I was 
 just placing Sir Seton's narrative in my 
 -pocket, along with the documents I had secured 
 the night before, when somebody whistled. I 
 looked up at Antsley. 
 
 "Damned good for you," he said, "So you 
 got them?"
 
 n8 The Stolen Throne 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 "And him ?" he added grimly. 
 
 "Yes, and him," I answered. 
 
 "Thank God, then." 
 
 "What do you mean ?" 
 
 "I mean, old man, that wound or no wound 
 you must manage to get to the palace at once. 
 I mean that there's merry hell to pay. Whit- 
 worth says that the diplomatic corps is girding 
 up its loins and there's brimstone in the air. 
 Blitzow has established communication with 
 St. Petersburg and is about to demand the 
 abdication of Gurtha. The Russians are prac- 
 tically in possession now. They've posted sol- 
 diers all through the town and are mounting a 
 battery out here on the Plaza. Burton, Von 
 Holburn and de Nevers are hopping wild, but 
 they can't make up their minds just how far to 
 go. There'll be trouble, none the less, before 
 it's over. The army has practically sold out to 
 Blitzow, but these people here, aren't going to
 
 The Peril of the Duchess 1 1 9 
 
 give up their Duchess if fighting to the end 
 can save her. Every man you see is bulky at 
 the waist and little groups of them are gather- 
 ing on every corner. It will be a vain resist- 
 ance though. A volley or so, the machine 
 guns, and then the Cossacks ! God help them ! 
 They can do nothing. And God help her. But 
 you can do something and you will. You know, 
 and you'll tell what you know. You'll do what 
 I would what you'd want me to do. Old man, 
 it will be a beautiful thing to die for her." 
 
 We spoke but once after that. We had been 
 walking along, I busy with my thoughts, al- 
 though I could feel Antsley's gaze on my face 
 all the way. When we came in sight of the 
 palace he put his hand caressingly on my 
 shoulder 
 
 "You'll do it?" he pleaded. 
 
 And I answered as in a dream: "It will be 
 a beautiful thing to die for her." 
 
 A detail of Cossacks was posted before
 
 i2o The Stolen Throne 
 
 the gates. They were squatted on the ground 
 grasping their horses 5 bridles. 
 
 On the esplanade were several machine guns 
 and two six pounders had been placed to com- 
 mand either gateway. Belts and pyramids of 
 ammunition were piled beside them and the 
 crews busied themselves oiling the breeches 
 and sighting distances. As we attempted to 
 enter an officer came running down the drive, 
 his sword clanking against the furbishments of 
 his uniform. 
 
 "You cannot enter, gentlemen," he said. 
 
 "We have important business with Her 
 Grace," Antsley replied. 
 
 "Her Grace cannot be seen." 
 
 "But man," I broke in fretfully, "she will see 
 us, she must see us." 
 
 "I have my orders," was the calm reply. 
 
 Antsley looked him up and down. "Since 
 when does an officer of the Czar carry the com- 
 mands of the Duchess of Stromburg?"
 
 The Peril of the Duchess 121 
 
 "I am not here to answer questions." 
 
 An orderly clattered past us. His horse's 
 flanks were all a'steam and bloody with spur- 
 tears. I noticed that he carried a despatch bag. 
 
 It was no time for pandering or parley. I 
 drew the officer aside. "All Stromburg can 
 wait," I whispered, meaningly, "and the rest of 
 the world, but I cannot nor Russia." 
 
 I tore a leaf from my note book and scrawled 
 a sentence: "You hold a shut lock, I, its key." 
 
 "Take this to M. Blitzow he will give you 
 
 an answer." 
 
 An instant after he was back again. "Kindly 
 follow me," he said. We passed through a hall 
 lined with officers, to the audience chamber. 
 The sentry at the door drew aside and we en- 
 tered. Gurtha looked up and half inclined her 
 head in recognition. Never had she been so 
 magnificent, never more haughty, never so 
 royal. 
 
 Blitzow motioned us to be seated. He was
 
 122 The Stolen Throne 
 
 reading the dispatches which the courier had 
 just brought. The man stood beside him. Two 
 privates of the Engineer Corps came through, 
 one bearing a coil of telegraph wire, the other 
 a keyboard. They passed in front of us and 
 conferred for a moment with Blitzow. Burton 
 sat alone, biting his nails. De Nevers paced 
 up and down, in his nervousness tapping his 
 teeth with a fountain pen. Von Holborn 
 chatted in subdued tones with a court official. 
 And in the centre of the room, draped with the 
 Eagle of Russia and the black and green of 
 Stromburg, was a long black "something" with 
 waxen tapers burning at its head and a sword 
 resting across. 
 
 Antsley walked over to the bier and drew 
 back a fold of the flags. Then he came to his 
 seat again and sat drumming noiselessly on his 
 knees. I turned 'round to him. He smiled. 
 "That was a damned pretty thrust," he whis- 
 pered.
 
 The Man 
 with the Nose
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 'The Man With the Nose" 
 
 LADIMIR BLITZOW was a 
 diplomat. His eyes, his mouth, 
 his nose spelled the word. And 
 what a nose it was! Not a 
 mere shapeless pudge, stuck 
 thoughtlessly on to complete 
 the symmetry of a face, but a fine, large dis- 
 tingue (what shall I say?) speaking pon- 
 derosity! It rose to perilous heights, into the 
 very bush of his eyebrows, then swooped down 
 in one long curve, until it fairly overhung his 
 nether lip. 
 
 It was a gorgeous affair, heavy with Tyrian 
 purples and soulful blues and all overrun with 
 a network of tiny, red veins for all the world 
 like a range of irrigating canals. At times a 
 waxen calm overspread its surface. Then you 
 could know that the great mind was at peace
 
 126 The Stolen Throne 
 
 and that affairs of state were at the moment 
 laid aside for the fillip of small talk and the 
 zest of quip and epigram. 
 
 To-day it fairly pulsated and swelled with 
 excitement, and gleamed for all the world like 
 a great carbuncle, afire with its own color- 
 passion. 
 
 Perhaps that selfsame nose gave rise to 
 rumors of a Semitic strain. Many were the 
 conjectures as to Blitzow's past. It was hinted 
 in certain quarters that he had risen to the 
 broader and more scopeful espionage of inter- 
 national diplomacy from a lowly station in the 
 secret police while others as positively as- 
 serted that he had begun life as valet to the 
 
 Grand Duke O , supplying information 
 
 which brought about the exposure of that ill- 
 fated dreamer's plan for a liberal Russia. 
 
 Blitzow's presence anywhere was much akin 
 to the sight of a distant vulture somebody 
 usually happened to die if not in the flesh, at
 
 Vladimir Blitzow was a diplomat ; his eyes, his 
 mouth, his nose spelled the word ' '
 
 The Man With the Nose 127 
 
 least politically. Often it was a state. Rulers 
 of advantageously placed little principalities 
 instinctively cast about them for their ablest 
 counsellors when Blitzow appeared upon the 
 scene, and the other powers lost no time in send- 
 ing to the place of his alighting, a convenient 
 cruiser and a crisis-tried agent. 
 
 Diplomacy was Blitzow's god and he sacri- 
 
 * need all at the altar of his divinity. No action 
 
 could be mean or petty or despicable in his 
 
 sight if the ends of diplomacy could be served. 
 
 He was a zealous enthusiast of the lie. 
 
 "A good lie," he once said, "is the cleverest 
 thing in all the world. It arranges its own 
 antecedents and sequence. It is a perfect circle, 
 comprehending all emergencies and possibili- 
 ties. Now truth is such an irregular affair. 
 When and where it has birth no one knows. Its 
 source is often a tiny spring, away back in the 
 affairs of men as likely as not, generations 
 gone. It flows through the years and joins the
 
 128 The Stolen Throne 
 
 broad current of the present, losing its own 
 identity, and trending toward the unknown. 
 You embark your cockleshell into its current 
 and drift, ignorant of whence or thence. Truth 
 is a dangerous water for ships of state. Only 
 a fool would trust it. There is no art, no clever- 
 ness in its nature. A good lie is the highest 
 achievement of genius. It is its own destiny. 
 It shapes the past, moulds the present as it 
 will, guides the future. Thersites and 
 Machiavelli were patterns for all ages of clever 
 men. Washington was an accident." 
 
 The lie was indeed his cult. 
 
 Burton's blunt ways were likely to prove no 
 match for that keen, unscrupulous intellect. 
 Von Holborn hadn't the sharpness of Blitzow's 
 little finger in his whole ponderous makeup. 
 De Nevers feared him. They had measured 
 swords before and the sting of each defeat was 
 a never-healing wound in the Frenchman's 
 vanity.
 
 The Man With the Nose 129 
 
 The field was indeed Russia's. 
 
 Blitzow peered at his colleagues over the 
 edge of his pincenez. There was an ill-sup- 
 pressed triumph, an insulting confidence in his 
 glance. 
 
 Alexis' death had been at first thought, a 
 fearful non-plus to all his calculations, but the 
 knight that was lost had suddenly opened the 
 way to a more coveted queen. 
 
 The death of the man affected him in no wise. 
 Alexis had been a mere pawn on his board. 
 Nor did the fact that he was wrecking a wo- 
 man's life in the most dastardly manner, occa- 
 sion him the least qualm of conscience. It was 
 convenient necessary, to make Gurtha the in- 
 stigator, if not the actual agent in Alexis* 
 _death. What if she did suffer it was all in 
 the game as he played it. 
 
 The scattered groups of Stromburgers 
 whom we had noticed on our way to the Palace 
 had joined with one another and were gathered
 
 130 The Stolen Throne 
 
 outside the grounds. Through the windows I 
 could see them approach in rapidly increasing 
 numbers. Women darted through the crowd 
 wildly gesticulating and haranguing the men. 
 The Cossacks were now mounted and riding 
 in a constant circle, forming a cordon around 
 the populace. 
 
 Gurtha showed no sign of emotion. Her 
 face was set and dead. It was as of carved 
 marble a beautiful thing of stone. 
 
 Antsley's eyes did not leave her. Teddy 
 himself was pale and breathing hard. 
 
 When Blitzow at last came forward, Ted 
 turned round to me and gripped my hand. 
 
 "It's time, old man," he said. 
 
 It was indeed time. 
 
 And yet, although I knew that the moment 
 had come, I wanted to wait. Something within 
 held me back a sort of struggling hope 
 which whispered, despite all reason, that there 
 might be another way. I pressed my hand to
 
 The Man With the Nose 131 
 
 my heart to still its beatings. My fingers 
 touched upon the papers. A light of inspira- 
 tion flashed upon me and I resolved upon a dar- 
 ing thing. 
 
 Blitzow was gazing toward me. I started 
 from my seat and went forward a few steps 
 understanding that he wished to speak about 
 the message I had sent. But he motioned me 
 back. Evidently he was not yet prepared for 
 my entry into his little play. 
 
 Instead he whispered to an officer and the 
 man walked to Gurtha and addressed her. 
 She refused his proffered arm and arose. 
 There was no faltering, no hesitation. She 
 swept by with eyes to the front and shoulders as 
 erect as a genadier's of the guard. An em- 
 _press never on her coronation day held herself 
 with more surpassing majesty and proud grace 
 than did our Lady of Stromburg in this the 
 crisis of her life. 
 
 When she passed where we sat something
 
 132 The Stolen Throne 
 
 white fluttered to the floor. I stooped and 
 picked it up. It was a strip of lace torn from 
 her sleeve, but it was more precious to me than 
 all else of the world. 
 
 The ages rolled back in their folds and I was 
 a knight-errant riding to save my lady. This 
 was my guerdon and I swore eternal faith and 
 fealty to it. 
 
 Blitzow came forward to greet her, bowing 
 unctuously, his nasal barometer forecasting 
 unutterable triumph. She saw him, but as 
 though she saw him not, ignored his proffered 
 arm, swept past, seated herself and faced us 
 a Duchess of Stromburg, fearless and 
 haughty, before the men who dared to sit in 
 judgment upon her, in these, the halls of her 
 fathers. 
 
 Blitzow coughed deprecatingly and bowed. 
 "Your Grace," he began. 
 
 The curtain was up at last. 
 
 'But I wondered who would say the "tag"
 
 The 
 Pretender
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 "The Pretender." 
 
 TROMBURG has but one great 
 river, the Sarga. 
 
 Vessels of heavy tonnage can 
 sail within half a mile of the 
 palace where a great cliff 
 reaches down with abutting 
 arms and forms a small but deep harbour. 
 
 While the foregoing events were transpiring 
 a man stood upon the cliff, his eyes strained 
 northward. Just before Blitzow began his 
 speech, the looker started and drew a pair of 
 naval glasses from a case at his side and 
 levelled them toward a tiny white thread trail- 
 ing along the horizon. 
 
 He waited until the top masts of a ship came 
 into sight and then picked up a white flag lying 
 at his feet, which he waved with regular motion 
 right and left and downward. In reply a tiny
 
 136 The Stolen Throne 
 
 ensign came fluttering to the peak of one of the 
 masts. 
 
 Repeating his signal once more, he turned 
 and walked rapidly toward the town. Burton 
 looking casually out of the window, caught a 
 glimpse of the flag, wig-wagging out on the 
 cliff and turned away. I wondered at the sud- 
 den change in his features. The jaw muscles 
 were set hard and as his eyes met Blitzow's, a 
 new light came into them, answering the tri- 
 umphant leer of the Russian with a steady, 
 confident gaze. 
 
 Blitzow was now speaking. 
 
 "Your Grace is doubtless aware of the ter- 
 rible and sudden fate that has befallen the late 
 Duke of Stromburg" 
 
 As he uttered Alexis' name he paused sig- 
 nificantly. This was the first time the dead 
 man had been so nominated, and there was an 
 import too plain to be misunderstood in the 
 Russian's words. The emissaries of France
 
 The Pretender 137 
 
 and Germany exchanged stealthy glances. 
 Burton merely stared squarely into the speak- 
 er's face and smiled. 
 
 "The deceased was at the moment of his 
 death an officer in the service of His Imperial 
 Majesty, the Czar of the Russias (whom God 
 preserve), and it devolves upon me as the rep- 
 resentative of his government at the court of 
 Stromburg, to acquaint Your Grace that I am 
 called upon to take immediate steps in the in- 
 terests of my master. 
 
 "The duchy of Stromburg has been for some 
 while an object of notice before the courts of 
 Europe. It is well known that the house of 
 Holzdorn has long usurped the rule of the 
 country. When in 11750 the reigning duke, 
 Marcus, fell under the knife of an assassin, 
 Nicholas of Holzorn seized the throne and 
 forced the line of Marcus into exile. The 
 heir-presumptive, a babe in arms, was spirited 
 away by a faithful retainer, who fled to Russia
 
 138 The Stolen Throne 
 
 with the infant duke, where asylum was at once 
 granted them, and under that protection the 
 descendants of Marcus' son have since lived. 
 For almost a century and a half no attempt 
 has been made to drive the usurping line from 
 power, until the present Czar enlisted his sym- 
 pathy with the rightful duke, the late Alexis, 
 and lent support to his pretentions. Certain 
 demands would have been laid before Your 
 Grace to-day, but he, ia whose name Russia 
 would have made its address, lies before us, 
 dead, slain within the shadow of his father's 
 throne, stricken as fell Marcus before him, by 
 an assassin's hand! I cannot conceal from 
 Your Grace the fact that Russia holds you re- 
 sponsible for the deed." 
 
 Antsley gripped my knee and whispered 
 something into my ear. 
 
 Blitzow paused. "Would that I could give 
 the hands from off my arms, Your Grace," he 
 continued, "rather than utter these words, but
 
 The Pretender 139 
 
 the dead calls forth from yonder bier for veng- 
 eance, and Russia demands the punishment of 
 his slayer. I am commanded to summon you 
 to St. Petersburg, and in the name of the Czar 
 I declare a protectorate over Stromburg !" 
 
 Immediately, I was on my feet and striding 
 down the room. Blitzow motioned me back 
 and several officers rushed forward to restrain 
 me, but I evaded them and brushing aside the 
 enraged diplomat, mounted the steps of the 
 throne, and dropping on my knee pressed 
 Gurtha's hand to my lips. Then I turned to 
 the room. No one moved. My unexpected 
 interruption had stricken them dumb with 
 amazement. I motioned to Burton and he 
 wonderingly walked over and sat down beside 
 Blitzow, now white with fury, save for his nose, 
 which radiated every livid tint. 
 
 "Gentlemen," I cried, "a sweet lady has been 
 cruelly wronged and vilely traduced by this 
 man, who has heaped insult and accusation
 
 140 The Stolen Throne 
 
 upon her, without a vestige of proof. He has 
 vilified a good woman and tried to render her 
 in your eyes and the eyes of the world a crime- 
 stained murderess, that his petty game of 
 diplomacy may have successful outcome. 
 Gurtha of Stromburg is not an assassin nor 
 does she know at whose hands the dead man 
 there fell." 
 
 I was calm with confidence. I drew Sir 
 
 Seton's narrative from my pocket and read. 
 But there was one page which I did not read. 
 Unnoticed by anyone in the room, I had deftly 
 slipped it into my bosom and the world did not 
 learn that the son of Marcus died in infancy. 
 To my astounded audience he had lived to bear 
 progeny and the son of his sons seemed to 
 stand before them now. The faces of the men 
 before me were complex with amazement. 
 Antsley sat spellbound. This was a different 
 denoument than that which he had pictured. 
 I told the story of the discovery which had led
 
 The Pretender 141 
 
 me to Stromburg. "Here," I cried, producing 
 the papers I had removed from the Cathedral, 
 "are state papers which have lain concealed in 
 Stromburg for more than a century. They 
 establish the identity of the child Andreas 
 they trace my lineage direct to Marcus. Last 
 night I went to remove them from their place of 
 concealment. Alexis met me there. He at- 
 tacked me, and in self-defense I killed him." 
 
 I turned to Gurtha. There was a smile on 
 my lips. There was joy in my heart which she 
 should share, for had I not preserved her 
 liberty and her throne for her ? But may God 
 to my dying day, save me from another such 
 look of unutterable loathing and scorn as that 
 which she cast upon me. 
 
 An officer rushed into the room and drew 
 Blitzow to the window where Burton had 
 stood. Just then there came the dull boom of 
 guns from the waters beyond. Burton did not 
 turn 'round but there was that in his face that
 
 142 The Stolen Throne 
 
 I did not understand. It was more the look of 
 a bulldog about to spring than anything I had 
 ever seen. And I wondered. 
 
 Steaming up the river, Royal George snap- 
 ping to the wind, came H. M. S. "Determina- 
 tion." A puff of black smoke broke from her 
 side followed by the rumble of her forward 
 gun. At the sound of the salute Blitzow gazed 
 from Burton to me 
 
 "A pretty coup, messieurs," he hissed. 
 
 "You mean ?" was Burton's cold reply. 
 
 "Your claimant and," shrugging his shoul- 
 ders, "your demonstration." 
 
 "An accident," answered Burton. "If you 
 think that there is the least connection between 
 Mr. Parker's presence in Stromburg and that 
 man o' war, you are in error the events of the 
 last hour are as great a surprise to me, as they 
 were to you." 
 
 The Russian smiled incredulously.
 
 The Pretender 143 
 
 "Then may I ask what attitude we may ex- 
 pect for your government in the matter of this 
 preposterous adventurer ?" 
 
 Here was a new complication for which my 
 kinetoscopic plans of the past hour had not pro- 
 vided. The tentacles of diplomacy had begun 
 to reach around me. "I claim the protection 
 of the British flag," I cried. Blitzow bestowed 
 a keen glance upon me. 
 
 "But you are by your own words no Eng- 
 lishman Your Highness" this last with a 
 withering sarcasm souring his voice. 
 
 The situation was rapidly unfolding strange 
 aspects. I looked to Burton but he remained 
 silent. 
 
 "I am the Duke," I cried. 
 - "That, sir, remains to be established. 
 Kingships must rest on a firmer rock than 
 words. Not you nor England nor I, can fasten 
 the coronation robe across your shoulders with 
 a mere claim. Although you have renounced
 
 144 The Stolen Throne 
 
 your allegiance to England, such act does not 
 set you upon this throne !" 
 
 The curious court throng had pressed close 
 around us. At this juncture Gurtha's voice 
 broke in upon us. 
 
 "You claim the throne of Stromburg ?" She 
 spoke slowly and lowly but with a rasp of 
 menace. 
 
 "Your Highness," I stuttered. 
 
 "Yes or no?" 
 
 "Yes, Your Highness," I answered, deem- 
 ing it best for the present to carry out the role 
 I had assumed. 
 
 "Were you aware of the pretensions of 
 Alexis?" 
 
 Again I paused before answering. But she 
 was impatient for a reply. 
 
 "I command you to answer." 
 
 "Yes. Your Highness herself explained the 
 matter to me." 
 
 "That is a deliberate lie I have never be- 
 fore spoken to you I do not know you."
 
 The Pretender 145 
 
 I gazed at her in dumb amazement. Then 
 my glance sought Burton, but he deliberately 
 turned his back and peered out of the window. 
 Whitworth dropped his eyes. Here and there 
 I could see a hand feverishly clutch upon a 
 sword hilt. 
 
 "It is a lie," she again said. 
 
 "Yes, it is a lie," I replied to her and this 
 time I stared her full and fair in the face and 
 there was that in her own glance that told me 
 that she, at least, took my words as I meant 
 them to carry. 
 
 She whispered to an officer and he imme- 
 diately left the room. 
 
 Again Gurtha spoke. "You have acknowl- 
 edged that you killed Alexis?" 
 
 "Yes," I said "but in fair duel and in self- 
 - defence. 
 
 The tramp of men marching sounded down 
 the corridor and a detail of the palace guard 
 entered the room and halted within the en- 
 trance.
 
 146 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "Since by your own words you are a subject 
 of Stromburg and by public confession an 
 assassin, I command that you be placed under 
 arrest and committed to prison." 
 
 The heavens came tumbling out of God's 
 hand and bore me down, down, down to the hell 
 where only women are. A hell of roses and 
 song whose fires are lit with the souls of men 
 who believe. On, on, on I tumbled through 
 the flames until I fell upon a mass of lace upon 
 which I stamped and ground with my heel. 
 Then Antsley's chafing brought me back to my 
 senses and with his help I struggled to my feet. 
 
 The officer into whose charge I had been en- 
 trusted gave the order to advance and, sup- 
 ported on either side, I was led from the room. 
 But first I paused long enough to crunch my 
 heel once more into the strip of lace that fell 
 from my hand when I had swooned. 
 
 And now, the hell that burnt me leapt from a 
 living woman's furious eyes.
 
 / Enter 
 the Fortress
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 / Enter the Fortress" 
 
 HE city prison of Stromburg is 
 in the purlieus of the city. It is 
 a foul, reeking hole without 
 draught or ventilation. The 
 few hours I spent within its 
 walls shall always be a sear 
 upon my memory. 
 
 Shortly after nightfall an order came com- 
 manding my transfer to an apartment in the 
 fortress. Here I was placed in a large room, 
 the grated windows and door of which alone 
 indicated its real character. This much, I 
 afterwards learned, Burton had accomplished 
 in my behalf. I found that a number of my 
 effects had been transferred from the Con- 
 tinental, so that I was at least to enjoy the ma- 
 terial comforts. Among my belongings were 
 a number of books and so, what with pipe and 
 reading, I did not fare at all badly.
 
 150 The Stolen Throne 
 
 The first part qf the morning passed with- 
 out any word from my friends. About ten 
 o'clock I heard a considerable hubbub below, 
 which upon investigation proved to be the 
 clatter and commotion of the Russians with- 
 drawing to their own quarters in the Cathedral. 
 Here and there, I saw wandering about in the 
 confusion, occasional "jackies" on leave from 
 the "Determination," which lay at anchor a 
 few hundred yards down the river. 
 
 There was a field glass in my bag and I 
 whiled away the better part of an hour watch- 
 ing life on board the gunboat. 
 
 The "Determination" was at that time a new 
 type of vessel. Since then many gunboats of 
 her class have been added to the British serv- 
 ice. They are mostly stationed in the far East 
 where there is constant need of light-draught 
 warships capable of finding their way to inter- 
 ior towns where British lives or British inter- 
 ests are threatened.
 
 I Enter the Fortress 151 
 
 The sight of women visitors on her deck 
 vividly recalled to my mind the events of the 
 preceding day, and I climbed down from my 
 chair to sink into its seat, overwhelmed with a 
 vortex of emotions upon which I had purposely 
 kept from dwelling. 
 
 The treachery of Gurtha cut far more cruelly 
 than the gravity of my predicament. 
 
 Never had Fate turned a crazier trick in all 
 the million years of her topsy-turvy existence. 
 
 I had pranced forth to the tourney, a valiant 
 Sir Galahad, only to return chained to the 
 hangman's mule. 
 
 As a fair flower may trade its subtle essence 
 for the stench of decay, just so did my deadened 
 passion poison the last lingering fragrance of 
 devotion to Gurtha. She had merely worn me 
 for a glove, and when her own white fingers 
 were imperilled by the contact, she had dis- 
 carded me with no more compunction than she 
 would have bestowed upon a rejected pair of 
 mousquetaires.
 
 152 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "I'll tell the whole damned truth," I burst 
 forth. 
 
 "You'll do nothing of the sort. You'll keep 
 a stiff upper lip and stay in the game. You've 
 only been an ass up to now but you shan't be- 
 come a cur." 
 
 It was Antsley. "I can't come in," he said, 
 "they've sent a guard along to see that I don't 
 smuggle you out in my tobacco pouch. You're 
 supposed to be incommunicado, but Whit- 
 worth managed this much for me and you will 
 have to be content with what the 'guards grant 
 us.' Oh, but you've messed yourself up. I 
 don't know where to start ! So I'll begin with 
 God-blessing you for being the noblest gentle- 
 man I ever knew and then damn you as the 
 biggest chump! You saved the day for her 
 when nothing short of a miracle could have 
 availed. It was the boldest and biggest and 
 quickest thing I ever saw. There's the 'bless 
 you' end."
 
 I Enter the Fortress 153 
 
 "I was an ass a fool." 
 
 "I but partly agree with you. You are an 
 ass you are a fool, and that's where the 
 damning corner starts. You dare to blame 
 Gurtha" 
 
 "Blame her," I cried. "Blame her I curse 
 her I hate her ! Oh, these are not heroics 
 She has made my life precious to myself by her 
 own valuation of its cheapness. I was ready to 
 die for her. God knows, I would have gone to 
 everlasting sleep with thanks to my Maker that 
 he had let me live to know her, if I could have 
 had but one smile to light my way, one kind 
 word to lantern the valleys of the eternal." 
 
 "You're a fool !" sneered Antsley. 
 
 His words stung me like a whip. Before I 
 could control myself, I struck through the bars 
 and pounded him full in the mouth. 
 
 He checked the blood with his handkerchief. 
 He was ycry white.
 
 154 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "I forgive that," he said, "because your 
 hand and not your heart dealt the blow. 
 
 "You lost your nerve yesterday and you've 
 evidently not found it since. I saw that you 
 did not realize what you had done the moment 
 you began to rave at your arrest. The blessing 
 is that you raved in English. Had one of a hun- 
 dred men there understood you, you would 
 never have reached this room. When you 
 crunched your heel into her strip of lace (and 
 at that under her very eyes) I could hardly 
 refrain from doing as much with your head." 
 
 "If I could have that hour over again I 
 would do far more," I cried. 
 
 "Now you're getting long-eared again. You 
 can see less with two eyes and think less with 
 one brain than a year-old baby. Listen to me 
 and maybe I can wedge an idea into your head. 
 When Blitzow accused Gurtha of Alexis' 
 death she knew that this was a lie, and she 
 knew that without proof, Russia would not be
 
 I Enter the Fortress 155 
 
 allowed to move a hand against her. At least 
 she felt in no great peril. Then you came 
 bungling along. I am not going to take away 
 anything from the glory of that hour. It made 
 me proud to be an Englishman. But that was 
 because I knew and understood what you were 
 about, you big, old blundering bear ! But try 
 and imagine how she viewed it all. In you she 
 saw another pretender arise from the ashes 
 of Alexis. She thought you a spy a sneak. 
 Her memory went back to what had transpired 
 in the rose garden and at her rendezvous with 
 you. She burned at the thought of your cheap 
 treachery. From her view-point, she could see 
 only the black lining of your silver impulse. 
 She perceived in Alexis' death merely a con- 
 venience for yourself. She owed you no con- 
 sideration she owed herself the opportunity 
 to rid the throne of a dangerous claimant and 
 to grant Russia the justice she demanded. 
 Seeing as she did, she could only act as she did.
 
 156 The Stolen Throne 
 
 It was your cue to drop tragedy and play out 
 the farce. In the end, the truth is bound to 
 come out and then, unless I'm all out of gear on 
 my knowledge of women, you'll get those 
 medicinal tears for which you were just ach- 
 ing. Meanwhile, calmly resting between the 
 acts, with pipe and book and a superb view of 
 nature before you, con over your repertoire, 
 Sir Troubadour, and wait for the curtain to 
 rise again. I must go now 'the standing 
 army* here is getting footsore."
 
 The Shadow 
 on the Shade
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 "The Shadow on the Shade." 
 
 HE slash in my side had thus far 
 given me but little trouble. 
 Alexis had cut where there 
 were no great veins, so that my 
 own crude "first aid" bandag- 
 ing had sufficed. However, I 
 must have lost much more blood than I thought 
 and it was because of weakness as well as ex- 
 citement that I had swooned at the palace. 
 
 When I struck Antsley I probably gave my 
 side a tremendous wrench, for after he had 
 gone, I felt a hot trickling within my shirt, fol- 
 lowed by a feeling of vertigo. I reached out to 
 -steady myself on the post of my bed, but missed 
 it I knew that I fell, but after that there was 
 only nothingness. 
 
 I lay on the cold stones through all that 
 night. The sentry found me there shortly after
 
 160 The Stolen Throne 
 
 daybreak. By this time I was mumbling in the 
 grip of a malicious fever. I can thank ex- 
 traordinarily good surgery for my life. 
 
 My wound was cleansed and properly 
 bandaged. After that, I was removed to the 
 military hospital, where I tossed in delirium for 
 days without a single lapse to consciousness. 
 
 During this entire time I was under constant 
 espionage, though I was accorded every pos- 
 sible consideration. 
 
 These facts I learned from Antsley, the sec- 
 ond day after the breaking of the fever. The 
 privilege of the hospital was another special 
 dispensation secured through the kindly offices 
 of the embassy. Criminals were usually re- 
 moved to the sick ward of the city prison a 
 horrible, depressing place from which, I am 
 sure, I should never have emerged. 
 
 Bit by bit and more and more as my 
 strength returned, Antsley reviewed for me
 
 The Shadow on the Shade 161 
 
 the events which had transpired during my 
 confinement. 
 
 For a few days after Alexis' death there had 
 been no indication of action on the part of 
 Blitzow, and his recall to St. Petersburg had 
 been immediately followed by the retirement of 
 the Russian troops, after which the "Determi- 
 nation" weighed anchor and steamed away to 
 join the fleet cruising in the North Sea. 
 
 The day for my trial on the charge of murder 
 had not yet been determined, for obvious rea- 
 sons. My disavowal of allegiance to England 
 made it impossible for Burton to intercede for 
 me, except in an unofficial capacity, but even his 
 efforts to secure my release, under the guar- 
 anty of my immediately leaving Stromburg, 
 .were of no avail. Gurtha, as well as her min- 
 isters, turned a deaf ear to every intermedia- 
 tion and refused to interfere in any way with 
 the progress of justice. After I was able to 
 sit up Burton himself came and we spent an
 
 1 62 The Stolen Throne 
 
 earnest hour together. I could see that he was 
 moved, despite the calmness of his tones. We 
 chatted together for a few moments I eagerly 
 questioning, he glibly answering me, concern- 
 ing the great world-events which had trans- 
 pired during my illness. Then with character- 
 istic abruptness he came to the point. 
 
 "Parker," he said, "I have just come from 
 the chancellor, and between the two of Us, we 
 are going to get you out of this trouble. This 
 is our plan. As a citizen of Stromburg, you are 
 subject to the laws of the duchy, and as there 
 is but one punishment for capital crimes 
 ahem we need not dwell upon that point. 
 Now, since you have relinquished your allieg- 
 ance to Great Britain, naturally there can be no 
 official aid from England. But why repudiate 
 your rights as a British subject? Why con- 
 tinue this mad masquerade ? I can predict but 
 one outcome. Yours is a hare-brained dream, 
 as wild as it is impossible. There are docu-
 
 The Shadow on the Shade 163 
 
 ments it is true, proofs, if you will, of the 
 survival of the Duke Andreas. But right does 
 not make might and in the courts of royalty, as 
 well as in those of jurisprudence, possession is 
 nine points of the law. So that, granting you 
 were free and at liberty to plan and plot to your 
 heart's desire, you would never reach your 
 goal. On the other hand, you are in actual 
 peril in acute danger of your life. Your 
 public confession has already doomed you. 
 There seems no escape. At least there seemed 
 no escape, until an hour ago, and I am here to 
 open the prison doors and offer you freedom, 
 if you, by a single sentence, will yourself give 
 me the key." 
 
 Burton paused "You must renounce your 
 -pretensions to the duchy and appeal to me as an 
 English citizen. I shall then be able to act in 
 your behalf, not as Burton the friend, but as 
 Burton the official. There will be no hitch. I 
 have the assurance of those in authority that
 
 164 The Stolen Throne 
 
 in the event of your accepting these conditions, 
 an order for your release will be made out at 
 once, with the understanding that you are to 
 cross the frontier and never return. There 
 awaits merely your signature to this paper, 
 which, attested by proper witnesses, spells 
 'open sesame' to you." 
 
 I did not take the paper. "Is this the sug- 
 gestion of the Duchess?" I asked. 
 
 Burton lifted his finger warningly and shook 
 his head "No." 
 
 "Then," I said with a determination that 
 rang through every fibre of me, "I will not 
 sign it." 
 
 Burton stared at me in amazement. "Do I 
 really understand you ?" he asked. 
 
 "If you mean that I reject your offer you 
 do not understand." And then my tones soft- 
 ened as I leaned over and clasped his hand. 
 "Don't think me ungrateful. Some day I shall 
 show you that I am not. You do not know
 
 The Shadow on the Shade 165 
 
 you cannot. I am not sure that I do myself. 
 But there is something at stake bigger than all 
 the kingships since Pharaoh's honor! I 
 thank you deeply for what you have done, and 
 I thank you more for what you wish to do. 
 You cannot help me. I must do that for my- 
 self. Good-bye." 
 
 Then when he was gone I sat in the russet 
 light and built a ladder of fancy to a castle of 
 dreams. But I meant that the ladder should be 
 strong enough to bear me up, and that the 
 castle should undream itself into one of grey 
 stone, with the ensign of Stromburg a'top. 
 
 Slowly and surely as a man picks his way 
 up a jutting mountain side, so did I climb out 
 of the tangle into which I had so unwittingly 
 thrown myself, until I could see before me the 
 goal of attainment. Gurtha had chosen her 
 course I now determined mine. Chance had 
 placed strange cards in my hands, and I meant 
 to play them.
 
 1 66 The Stolen Throne 
 
 Antsley did not come until the afternoon fol- 
 lowing Burton's visit. 
 
 "That fever of yours must still be raging or 
 the last spell left you without a mind," he said. 
 "Burton thinks that you have gone insane. He 
 has given you up in disgust, and I don't blame 
 him. What is your game?" 
 
 "Wait you'll see," I said. 
 
 "Look here, Parker, in all seriousness, are 
 you going to stick to this melodramatic role of 
 yours ?" 
 
 I nodded assent. 
 
 "Do you realize into what danger you are 
 running?" 
 
 I smiled. 
 
 "I suppose you imagine yourself a heroic 
 figure but no one else thinks so half of 
 ( Stromburg takes you for a knave, and the 
 other half thinks you are an ass. I have come 
 here to-day with the intention of carrying 
 word back to Burton that you have dropped
 
 The Shadow on the Shade 167 
 
 your tomfoolery. If reason can't move you, I 
 shall take the matter into my own hands and 
 disclose the whole affair. I have the papers 
 securely locked away in my trunk with the 
 chest of jewels and if you don't " 
 
 Just then a shadow moved across the win- 
 dow. 
 
 Leaping to my feet I plunged my hand under 
 the drawn shade and struck a man's hat. We 
 could hear it fall, but by the time we raised 
 the shade the eavesdropper had disappeared. 
 Lying beneath the window, however, was the 
 cap of an officer of cavalry. 
 
 "Antsley, run outside," I said, "and get that. 
 I'll watch from the window." 
 
 But I had counted without my host in this 
 instance a host in uniform." 
 
 A hand was laid upon my shoulder and the 
 guard, despite my expostulation, drew me 
 away from the window, but not before I had 
 noted a very peculiar thing.
 
 / See a 
 Signet Ring
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 "/ See a Signet Ring!" 
 
 NTSLEY did not return that 
 day, nor the following. I ad- 
 dressed a note to Burton, re- 
 questing him to come and see 
 me, but after waiting the 
 greater part of a week, without 
 sign of either him or Ted, I knew that I had 
 been cut off from all communication with my 
 friends. 
 
 At first I was puzzled at this sudden with- 
 drawal of the privileges which had been 
 hitherto allowed me, but after some thought 
 I was forced to the conclusion that the man 
 at the window lay at the bottom of the 
 trouble. 
 
 How much had he heard? What did he 
 know? Who was he? What had become of 
 Antsley ?
 
 172 The Stolen Throne 
 
 For the first time since my imprisonment, I 
 really hungered for liberty. The mystery of 
 the affair was setting me a-quiver with anxiety. 
 In the beginning I had not thought of escape. 
 But as day after day passed and no word came 
 to me from the outside world, I began to plan 
 for my liberty. 
 
 At first thought, the project seemed impos- 
 sible. I was sequestrated in a small wing of 
 the main floor. 
 
 The view from my window only showed a 
 stretch of shrubbery, beyond which I could see 
 nothing. And day and night there was my 
 guardian always at hand never condescend- 
 ing to fellowship rigid in the observance of 
 his every order. 
 
 In the beginning I essayed bribery. They 
 had removed all my valuables at the prison, evi- 
 dently anticipating some such procedure. 
 Therefore I could only promise. But my first 
 approaches met with such a contemptuous re- 
 ception that I was discouraged immediately.
 
 I See a Signet Ring 173 
 
 Then I tried to gain the man's confidence, 
 but beyond a little more humanity in his bear- 
 ing toward me, I failed to inspire any attitude 
 which could possibly be regarded as justifiable 
 foundation for so wilful a dereliction as that 
 which I had hoped to accomplish. One morn- 
 ing I awoke to find the cot next to mine occu- 
 pied by a soldier suffering from a badly 
 crushed arm. He had been thrown from his 
 horse and not being able to loosen his foot 
 from the stirrup, the frightened beast had 
 trampled him cruelly. 
 
 A screen had been set between our cots. It 
 was a twofold affair, with the panels filled in 
 with silk, strung along rods. Close beside this, 
 a table was placed, to gain space for which the 
 screen had been shoved against my bed. I 
 could not see the face of the patient as the 
 surgeon bent over him to maKe his examina- 
 tion. A moment afterwards he straightened 
 uj? md lifting a case from the floor, drew from
 
 174 The Stolen Throne 
 
 it bandages, some plaster of paris, and lastly a 
 sponge and a bottle which emitted the unmis- 
 takable odor of chloroform. Then he placed 
 the satchel back on the floor. 
 
 Solzer, my guard, was assisting him. 
 
 First emptying the chloroform onto a sponge 
 he handed the bottle to Solzer with instructions 
 to cork it immediately. The soldier placed 
 the bottle back on the table and bent forward, 
 watching the patient succumb to the anaesthetic. 
 
 At that moment I chanced to glance down- 
 ward and observed that the satchel had been 
 shoved half way under the screen. It lay 
 open and among other things I saw several 
 empty bottles lying inside. 
 
 Keeping my eyes fixed on the slit between the 
 folds of the screen, I reached down and man- 
 aged to secure one of the empty phials. Draw- 
 ing the cork with my teeth, I held the flask in 
 one hand and reached for the bottle of chloro- 
 form. It was a trying moment, but I sue-
 
 I See a Signet Ring 175 
 
 ceeded. Then while the air was still full of the 
 fumes from the sponge, I partly filled my bottle 
 and returned the other to the table, without 
 having distracted their attention. 
 
 Soon afterwards, the anaesthetic having 
 taken effect, the fracture was reduced and the 
 injured arm placed in a plaster cast. 
 
 The man lay unconscious until dusk. When 
 he emerged from his stupor he began to groan 
 for water. Solzer had in the meanwhile re- 
 moved the screen and had placed his chair 
 where he could keep an eye on both of us I, 
 for purposes of my own, having complained of 
 a severe attack of neuralgia, which was suf- 
 ficient excuse for my remaining in bed. At my 
 request the doctor had bandaged my face with 
 -a cloth saturated with a chloroform-liniment, 
 the odor of which nearly nauseated me. 
 
 When the patient called for water, the guard 
 picked up a pitcher and filled it from a spigot 
 at the end of the room.
 
 176 The Stolen Throne 
 
 The stranger's back was turned to me. One 
 of his heavy cavalry boots lay under his cot, one 
 stood at the head of his bed. While Solzer was 
 filling the pitcher, I reached out and grasping 
 the boot nearest me, hid it under my coverlid. 
 
 The sick man slept fitfully until about eleven 
 o'clock, and then fell into a deep slumber, at- 
 tested by very vigorous snores. 
 
 I had been feigning sleep for more than an 
 hour. When midnight struck, I opened one 
 lid for a peep and saw that my guardian was 
 nodding. I lay still for some while, to make 
 sure, then I lifted the coverlid, held the heavy 
 boot by the strap and, giving it a good swing, 
 crashed the man fair upon his temple with the 
 iron-shod heel. So well-aimed was the blow, 
 that he did not even utter a moan but only 
 slipped a few inches in the chair and lay per- 
 fectly motionless. However, I had awakened 
 the patient, but before he could cry out I 
 leaped from the bed and stupefied him with a
 
 I See a Signet Ring 177 
 
 handkerchief saturated with chloroform, 
 meanwhile holding him by the throat until I 
 felt him grow perfectly quiet. 
 
 After which, removing the bandage from 
 my face, I gagged Solzer with the rag, lifted 
 him into my cot and turning his face downward 
 tied his feet and hands. This accomplished, I 
 drew the bedclothes over his head and slipped 
 into the injured man's uniform which lay neatly 
 folded on a chair. I examined his pockets and 
 was gratified to find a number of gold pieces. 
 But imagine my surprise, when my eye fell 
 upon nothing less than one of the carved signet 
 rings which I had found in Sir Seton's chest. 
 Turning the sleeper over, I studied his face. It 
 was my friend, was the little whipper-snapper, 
 Lieutenant Jansen. 
 
 How in the world had he come into posses- 
 sion of the signet? What did it mean? One 
 thing at least, was certain the Stromburg 
 jewels had been stolen !
 
 My Friend 
 the Captain
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 'My Friend the Captain" 
 
 |T did not suit my purpose to 
 enter the town at once, so I 
 struck out in a northern direc- 
 tion, and after a few moments 
 I came to a wagon road which 
 carried me into a forest. This 
 I recognized as part of the palace grounds. 
 After a while I found a wall and quickly scal- 
 ing this, I walked on in a wide circle, so that I 
 managed to enter the town in an opposite direc- 
 tion from the hospital. It was almost daybreak 
 before I reached the legation. I slipped 
 through the court to the rear of the house, and 
 picking up a pebble threw it against Whit- 
 - worth's window. I had to repeat the perform- 
 ance several times before I could awaken him. 
 Then, when he looked out for the cause of the 
 disturbance, I called to him in a loud whisper 
 to come down and let me in.
 
 1 82 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "Who is it?" he asked. 
 
 "Parker," I replied. "But don't stop to talk 
 get this door open before anybody sees me 
 here." 
 
 He descended without further ado and slid 
 the bolt of the tradesmen's entrance. We 
 reached his chambers without disturbing the 
 household. 
 
 "Stand here," he said, "until I make a 
 light." 
 
 "Close that window first and draw the shut- 
 ters," I cautioned. Then in as few words as 
 possible I told him of my escape and the dis- 
 covery I had made at the last moment. "And 
 now for the love of man, tell me when you last 
 saw Antsley ?" 
 
 "I must ask you the same question," was his 
 stunning reply. "He left Stromburg almost a 
 fortnight ago and not a word have I had from 
 him since he went, not to mention the fact that 
 he neglected even to bid me good-bye."
 
 My Friend the Captain 183 
 
 "But hasn't he written to me in care of the 
 legation ?" 
 
 "Not a word has been received from him. 
 Didn't you know that he had gone away?" 
 
 "Know," I murmured, "I know nothing. I 
 haven't heard from him or the world since the 
 afternoon he dashed out of the hospital to inter- 
 cept that chap at the window." 
 
 I detailed the incident to Whitworth. 
 
 "Good God/' he cried, "there's more in this 
 than either of us sees. You say the eavesdrop- 
 per was an officer. How do you know ?" 
 
 "He left his cap behind him when he went 
 away. Now what was it that seemed familiar 
 to me in that cap ? There was something that I 
 can't remember at this moment oh, let me 
 think no, it's no use. My head's all a-whirl 
 "with the excitement of to-night's events." 
 
 "Don't try to remember. It'll come to you a 
 little later. Let's return to the theft of the 
 jewels. Are you certain that they have been 
 stolen?"
 
 1 84 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "I am sure of it. Antsley had them in his 
 trunk he told me so that afternoon and, by 
 George, I'm sure that Antsley's disappearance 
 is mixed up in that matter." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "Well, if he had come back to the hotel and 
 found his trunk rifled, he'd never have left here 
 until he recovered everything or found the 
 thief. They must have made away with him 
 first." 
 
 Then came another surprise. 
 
 "Antsley was not made away with of that 
 at least, I am certain. He left the Continental 
 with all his baggage and bought a ticket for 
 London." 
 
 "Then how did Jansen get this ring?" 
 
 "That's too much of a question for me to 
 answer." 
 
 "And why hasn't Ted written to me ? Surely 
 he is concerned about my plight." 
 
 "Perhaps he has and the letters were never 
 delivered to you."
 
 My Friend the Captain 185 
 
 "But he would have addressed them in your 
 care. He'd not be so foolish as to send them 
 to the hospital, where he knows they would 
 surely be intercepted. They would not dare 
 tamper with the Legation's correspondence, 
 unless " 
 
 "Unless what?" 
 
 "Unless the Duchess is behind the whole 
 affair." 
 
 "In what manner ?" 
 
 "Perhaps she forced Antsley to cross the bor- 
 der," I ventured. "He is my friend and they 
 may not want him in Stromburg, knowing cer- 
 tain matters as he does." 
 
 "But if that were the case, he would surely 
 have appealed to us. He is an Englishman 
 and can demand our protection. No, I am sure 
 Gurtha was not concerned in his departure." 
 
 "Did he leave no word at the hotel ? Could 
 you learn nothing there ?" 
 
 "Well, to tell you the truth, until this morn-
 
 1 86 The Stolen Throne 
 
 ing, I had no idea that there was anything mys- 
 terious in the matter. I was surprised to hear 
 
 V 
 
 that he had left Stromburg, and when I learned 
 that he did not leave even so much as an 'auf- 
 weidersehen' for either Burton or myself, I 
 must confess that the only emotion I experi- 
 enced, was one of anger." 
 
 "Then you learned nothing from the hotel 
 people ?" 
 
 "Nothing except that he seemed to have 
 made up his mind very quickly and that our old 
 acquaintance, Captain Helzer, accompanied 
 him to the railway station." 
 
 "That's it I remember now. Helzer's the 
 man," I cried. 
 
 "Remember what?" 
 
 "Whitworth," I said, "Antsley is somewhere 
 in Stromburg unless he is dead. Do you re- 
 member the quarrel at the cafe the night we 
 came here? Well, the next day, when we ex- 
 pected a challenge from little Jansen, he sent 
 Captain Helzer with a message of apology !"
 
 My Friend the Captain 187 
 
 "What has that to do with the present dis- 
 cussion ?" 
 
 "It has this to do. The captain became very 
 drunk and garrulous. He boasted of his sweet- 
 hearts showed us letters photographs and 
 among other trophies of the love-chase a hat- 
 band bearing his initials embroidered in silk. 
 Whitworth, there s something significant in 
 Helzer's leaving the hotel with Ted, because 
 the cap that lay under the window had that em- 
 broidered band inside!" 
 
 "Then we'll find Helzer and get the truth 
 from him." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 For answer he left the room and returned 
 with Burton. 
 
 To him we hurriedly narrated the whole 
 story. When we had finished he sat without 
 speech for some while. "Ring for Nicholas," 
 he said. Then he wrote a few words which he 
 sealed in an envelope and addressed it.
 
 The Stolen Throne 
 
 As it was undesirable to allow the man to 
 enter the room on account of my presence, 
 Burton halted him in the hall. 
 
 "Go with this at once to the Chancellor and 
 return with an answer." 
 
 When the man had gone he came back to 
 his seat and resumed his musing pose. 
 
 "If we can find Helzer we'll find every- 
 thing," he said, at last. "And we'll find Helzer 
 if every soldier and policeman in Stromburg 
 has to be called into the search. But there is 
 another problem before us what are we going 
 to do with you?" 
 
 "I'll stay here for the present," was my au- 
 dacious reply. "And if you'll dig into your old 
 clothes chest and get me out a suit of tweeds, 
 I'll begin to realize that I have managed to 
 escape." 
 
 Burton regarded me in silence. "It's com- 
 promising," he said soberly. 
 
 "Compromises are the bulwark of diplom- 
 acy," I replied, with a nervous laugh.
 
 My Friend the Captain 189 
 
 "All right, then. Keep under cover and for 
 the present we'll fix up accommodations for 
 you. But I can promise you no prolonged 
 shelter." 
 
 I remained in Whitworth's room next morn- 
 ing, while he and Burton left the Legation to 
 keep the appointment which he had made by 
 note. 
 
 They returned at noon, chagrined and disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 Noting my concern they detailed the inter- 
 view for me. 
 
 The Chancellor after hearing their story 
 had sent for the Minister of War. He at once 
 instituted inquiries for Captain Helzer but dis- 
 covered that he had left Stromburg. 
 
 The Chancellor, however, had assured them 
 the matter would be referred to the secret police 
 and no stone be left unturned in the endeavor 
 to find Antsley. 
 
 In the afternoon Whitworth came to me with
 
 190 
 
 The Stolen Throne 
 
 a telegram. It was a reply to a wire sent to 
 Scotland Yard. 
 
 "Nothing known of party's whereabouts. 
 Family last heard of him from Stromburg." 
 
 "What do you thing of that?" he said. 
 
 "I think that you'd better look up our friend 
 Jansen."
 
 WTiat 
 
 Whitworth Found
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 "What Whitworth Found." 
 
 T was after dark when Whit- 
 worth returned from the hos- 
 pital. 
 
 "Did you see Jansen?" I 
 asked. 
 
 He nodded assent. 
 "Did he tell anything?" 
 "All!" 
 
 "Which means?" 
 
 "That Antsley may be here to-morrow. 
 General Strum issued an order which gained 
 me instant admittance to the injured man. I 
 found him in a pretty bad way but gritty as a 
 Gourka for all his suffering. He hasn't much 
 of a show and if he does squirm through this 
 accident, there's little likelihood of his having 
 much use of his arm, as the ligaments are torn
 
 194 The Stolen Throne 
 
 horribly and it is one chance in a hundred that 
 they will ever knit properly.'' 
 
 "He is still a bit shaken up from the jolt which 
 you gave his injury. You slammed the poor 
 devil's arm against the headboard when you 
 leaped upon him and they had to re-set the frac- 
 ture this morning. I tried to find what steps 
 are being taken for your recapture and was 
 surprised at the easy attitude of the authori- 
 ties. Of course, I could make only casual in- 
 quiries, as too great an interest in the matter 
 might divert unwelcome attention toward Bur- 
 ton and myself. What I have found, leaves me 
 in a quandary. They are either cloaking their 
 plans with the utmost secrecy or (for some rea- 
 son beyond my understanding) allowing your 
 escape to pass neglected. I do not think, how- 
 ever, that you have been traced here so, for 
 the present, I see no appreciable danger of your 
 reprisal. 
 
 "Jansen i s still in the wing where you were
 
 What Whit worth Found 195 
 
 quartered and for the present, occupies it 
 alone. This gave me a full opportunity to talk 
 with him freely. 
 
 "I at once accused him of participation in 
 the theft of the jewels and Antsley's disappear- 
 ance. At first he laughed at me. 'Is this the 
 reason of your visit?' he asked. 'Call one of 
 the physicians and let him hear you/ he said. 
 'I fear that you need treament as badly as I/ 
 
 "Come, come, Jansen," I said, "it's all very 
 well to carry out the matter in a high-handed 
 way but we have positive proof that you are 
 mixed up in this scrape." 
 
 " 'Produce your proof,' he sneered. 
 
 "I started to tell him about the signet you 
 found in his pocket, but upon second thought 
 Hid not do so, as it might have shown him the 
 source of my information and give him a 
 weapon for counter. So I took a long shot. 
 
 "Captain Helzer has confessed," I said. 
 
 " That's a lie,' he said, 'he '
 
 196 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "He what?" I asked eagerly. 
 
 "But he instantly became close-mouthed and 
 did not answer. 
 
 "Jansen," I said, "I am not here on guess 
 / know! I came, hoping that you would see 
 how much more wise it would be to give me 
 your aid. Now I have nothing to do but 
 call upon the authorities. I wanted to save 
 you from the consequences of your act but I 
 must save my friend at the price of your own 
 heavy punishment. I am very sorry for your 
 sake that I must visit additional ill upon you. 
 Good-bye. 
 
 "I arose to go and began to button my glove." 
 
 " 'Why should I do as you ask ?' he muttered 
 sullenly." 
 
 " 'Why should you not ? I replied.' 
 
 " 'Why not/ he snarled 'why not ? Be- 
 cause he is the friend of the hound who 
 stripped me of my honor (meaning that affair
 
 What Whitworth Found 197 
 
 with you at the inn), because I can gain noth- 
 ing and lose much/ 
 
 " 'But I promise you that you shall not lose 
 anything. If you will do what I ask of you, I 
 pledge myself not to disclose the source of my 
 information, whereas, if you are unreasonable, 
 the facts will be forced out of you.' 
 
 " 'My friends are strong in influence !' he 
 blustered. 
 
 " 'But England is stronger, and the Duchess 
 herself could not save you from her anger. 
 But you have chosen, so I also, am forced to 
 choose." 
 
 "I made as if to leave, but he called me back 
 to him. 
 
 " 'Don't go yet I must think awhile.' 
 
 "He lay with his eyes fastened upon space 
 and did not speak for some time. 
 
 "Then lifting himself painfully, he cast cau- 
 tious eyes around the room and beckoned me 
 nearer to his bed.
 
 198 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "First, he demanded that I repeat my prom- 
 ise of protection. 
 
 "I assented. 
 
 " 'You're an Englishman/ he said, 'and I 
 shall take your word. Your friend is safe and 
 will be in no danger so long as his presence 
 does not threaten the liberty of certain persons. 
 There were three of us originally but I am out 
 of it now. One of the two is always guarding 
 him. I mention no names that was not a 
 part of my compact/ 
 
 " 'But where is he ?' I asked impatiently. 
 
 " 'At the old mill near Biel, about ninety 
 miles from here. There are two approaches to 
 the mill. One is by the road and the other 
 through the bed of the stream which is very 
 shallow and easily waded/ 
 
 "I was carefully making note of his instruc- 
 tions when the surgeon entered to dress his 
 wound and insisted that I leave, as I had al- 
 ready remained with the patient entirely too
 
 What Whitworth Found 199 
 
 long so there you have the whole affair 
 shell and nut/ " 
 
 "What are you going to do ?" I queried. 
 
 "I shall take the two o'clock local for Biel." 
 
 "That is, we shall leave at once." 
 
 Whitworth started in to protest. 
 
 "You must not run the risk of recapture. 
 There is only one of them there and I'll be able 
 to handle him." 
 
 "But two will handle him twice as easily," 
 was my response, as I took down Jensen's uni- 
 form and b^gan to change my clothes.
 
 The Man 
 at the Mill
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 'The Man at the Mill" 
 
 E set out for Biel at daybreak. 
 There were but two carriages 
 to the train, one with first-class 
 compartment, in which we re- 
 mained undisturbed. The jog- 
 ging motion of the cars and the 
 droning and drumming of the wheels wove 
 themselves into a steady, pulsing measure, to 
 the spell of which I soon succumbed and slept. 
 
 I am sorry that I missed the sun-rise. It 
 
 must have been glorious, but the sight that did 
 
 greet me when the warmth of the day softened 
 
 -my veins and soothed me into wakefulness, was 
 
 a rarely wonderful one. 
 
 Our track wound its way through the moun- 
 tains. The engine was by no means a high- 
 power one, and we ambled along rather leis-
 
 204 The Stolen Throne 
 
 urely, at very much the same pace that one 
 would get from a brisk canter. 
 
 There are granite quarries along the way 
 which have been worked for ages. Looking up 
 one could see the rifts of creamy white gleam- 
 ing in the dusky sides of the hills, for all the 
 world like scoopsful of cheese dug out by the 
 hand of some hungry Titan. Besides us ran 
 the road white and dustless, stretching in 
 meander and glaring brightly, catching the vio- 
 let tint out of the prismatic light, until far off it 
 lost itself in a hazy purple. This is the country 
 of the famed Goldsteiner, wine of Kings, rare 
 as the Tokay of Hungary, and like it, now al- 
 most a myth. 
 
 Early as it was, the peasants were at work. 
 One saw occasionally kine, but of horses and 
 oxen practically none. For why should good 
 stock be wasted on the farm tasks, when one 
 has a strong wife and stalwart daughters to
 
 The Man at the Mill 205 
 
 bend to the yoke and break their backs with the 
 grubbing hoe ? 
 
 There are castles here, too. Most of them 
 are shambling ruins, often just the corner of a 
 wall jutting out against the blue heavens, stick- 
 ing up from the hillside like a single fang 
 left in a wolf's skull. Lairs of the wolf they 
 were in times long gone. They were sullen 
 scoundrels, these one-time Lords of Strom- 
 burg, with the arrogance and brutality of the 
 Teuton sharpened by the wilder strain of 
 Attila's vandalous Huns. 
 
 The robber barons of the Rhine were a dif- 
 ferent breed of men. They prayed as hard as 
 they preyed. Forays they made against their 
 neighbors and bloody reprisal they took upon 
 their enemies, and tribute they exacted by force 
 from traveller and merchant. But then, too, 
 they wielded their sword for the Christ and 
 valiantly they rode against the Saracen and 
 their voices sang the lordly songs of the
 
 206 The Stolen Throne 
 
 Crusaders. But not so, did the Lords of the 
 Sarga. They waged only their internecine 
 wars father and son. Pitiless and terrible 
 are the legends told in the peasants' huts even 
 to-day, for tradition lives in the mouths of the 
 people, and the songs crooned over the farm- 
 house cradle are the folk-lore of a race. 
 
 They held their mountains well, and fearless 
 and greedy indeed, was the bagman whose love 
 of gold led him into the mountains of the Sarga. 
 They who did escape, carried such tales back 
 to the low countries and to Genoa and the Span- 
 ish lands, that their fellows were well content 
 to leave Stromburg undisturbed in its solitary 
 brutality. 
 
 They were big men, strong, wonderful men, 
 these old land-corsairs, mighty, thick of chest, 
 set well upon their feet, with bulging calves and 
 knotty biceps. They lived in the open and 
 fared well on the flesh of the wild boar and the 
 fallow deer. Under Kaz, the Smith, they be-
 
 The Man at the Mill 207 
 
 came a terrible menace to the mountain king- 
 doms. Wonderful was Kaz, exulting in the 
 pride of his Hun blood. The witches told him 
 that the soul of Attila was reborn in him, and 
 as he pounded daily at his mellow-throated 
 anvil, shaping yactagan and pike, he sang the 
 songs of the dead ages, and the red blood 
 mounted to his eyes. 
 
 One day he slit the leather of his bellows, 
 cast aside his apron and marched forth at the 
 head of his followers. From town to town they 
 fought their way to the capitol itself. And 
 the capitol fell. So Kaz, the Smith, was Kaz 
 the King. He might have been Napoleon, had 
 he guessed what worlds lay beyond the moun- 
 tains. He might have been Tamerlane had he 
 -not looked into the eyes of a gypsy girl (the 
 world is sometimes as small as a woman's 
 eyes). And so the conqueror became con- 
 quered the welder of chains wore them, and 
 the army which he had raised, waited for. his
 
 208 The Stolen Throne 
 
 battle-cry until their daggers clogged in the 
 sheaths from the rust on their blades. For two 
 years they waited, and then the king sold them 
 to the Archbishop of Treves. They became his 
 mercenaries and never again returned to 
 Stromburg. They were the flower of its man- 
 hood the virile men, acorns of oaks. In 
 their civil wars they had slain the other able- 
 bodied men, and they whom they left in Strom- 
 burg, were the sons of the weak, the unfit 
 the old men and the cowards. And so the 
 Stromburg men who came after them were 
 weaklings, but the women were glorious. 
 
 The mountains are now quarries and vine- 
 yards, and they who live in the valleys come 
 and cut rocks and train vines. 
 
 As the sun climbed up the heavens, we 
 climbed down the mountains. We were now in 
 the beautiful valleys of the Sarga flat seas of 
 color, patched with red, green, brown and yel-
 
 The Man at the Mill 209 
 
 low, a veritable quilt of flowers and garden 
 truck. 
 
 Both of us were sharp for coffee when we 
 reached Biel. There is an inn near the train- 
 shed, and we lost no time in breakfasting. 
 Whitworth thought it would be best for us to 
 eat in our room, and so we had eggs and coffee 
 in a low-browed chamber under the eaves. 
 
 We could command the outlying country 
 from where we sat. A small stream ran back 
 of the house and down a gully, from which 
 emerged the motionless sails of a windmill. 
 
 "That's where it is," said Whitworth. "Let's 
 go over and have a look." 
 
 "Don't you think we had better wait until we 
 have rested a bit," suggested I. "Neither of 
 .jus has slept very much, and it would be just as 
 well if we go at this thing with all our energies. 
 There is no telling what we may be put to be- 
 fore the day is over." 
 
 "There is something in that," he assented.
 
 210 The Stolen Throne 
 
 But I could not rest. I sat with my eyes 
 closed and a thousand surging thoughts pell- 
 melling one another, until I could stand the in- 
 action no longer. Leaving Whitworth, I 
 slipped down stairs and made across the fields. 
 A brisk ten minutes' walk brought me to the 
 mill. There were no signs of life about the 
 place, nor were there any other buildings near 
 by. I sauntered past and circled around the 
 building, trusting to see or hear some signal 
 from Antsley, but no sound or sight rewarded 
 my effort. And so I returned to the inn and 
 rejoined Aubrey. We lunched and were 
 served by the son of the landlord. 
 
 "Question him," I suggested to Aubrey, 
 speaking in English. 
 
 "Is that a mill over there," he queried. 
 
 "Oh, yes," he replied, "but I wouldn't enter it 
 for all the money in the world." 
 
 "Why not," I asked. 
 
 "Oh, it's full of rats and ghosts," he replied.
 
 The Man at the Mill 2I1 
 
 "Ghosts?" I questioned. 
 
 "Certainly," he said, "I have seen them. I 
 sleep right above this room and at night when 
 it is very late a light burns in the windows. 
 Father wouldn't believe me when I first told 
 him, but now everyone knows it." 
 
 "That's the place," I whispered to Whit- 
 worth. "Wait until night-fall and we'll try our 
 luck again. You will remain here. I may find 
 it much easier to enter than to leave, and if you 
 are not free to act it might go hard with me." 
 Whitworth saw the wisdom of my reasoning 
 and so as soon as it was dark, I returned alone, 
 and wading through the bed of the stream, as 
 Jansen had directed, tried to open the door. It 
 . was not secured but merely hard in its frame, 
 so I put my shoulder against it and pressed. It 
 swung inward with a creak. Just then a candle 
 flickered above, and by its dim light I made out 
 the legs and lower person of a man standing
 
 212 
 
 The Stolen Throne 
 
 over a trap door. "Wait, I will let down the 
 ladder," he said. 
 
 His voice was familiar. When the steps 
 were lowered, the man bent over to steady the 
 top. Then I saw it was Helzer, and his face 
 was that of a man visited with anger and 
 anxiety.
 
 The Mill 
 Grinds, Strange Grist
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 'The Mill Grinds Strange Grist" 
 
 TRIED to close the door ; but it 
 hung on tight hinges and 
 squeaked. 
 
 "Lift it up a bit," directed 
 Helzer, speaking thickly. Then 
 he cried out impatiently: "You 
 dunderhead! Don't you remember? I think 
 you are drunk. What do you mean anyhow, 
 by staying away and leaving me alone here all 
 this time? I've a mind to come down and take 
 it out of your skin." 
 
 The idea seemed to grow with him. He 
 broke forth into a volley of filthy oaths and 
 having set the candle on the floor, started to 
 throw his leg over the ladder. It may be that 
 it was not resting squarely on the floor or, per- 
 haps, the man was careless. Be that as it may, 
 he missed his footing and in an instant he and
 
 2i 6 The Stolen Throne 
 
 the ladder crashed down upon the flags. He 
 fell upon the side of his head and I heard the 
 snapping of the bone as his neck broke. 
 
 I paused just long enough to see that he was 
 beyond all aid, then re-set the ladder and 
 mounted it. The room into which I stepped 
 was bare and empty; but a door showed an- 
 other chamber. I picked up the candle and 
 softly turned the knob. The moonlight strug- 
 gled in through a single window, high up on 
 the rough stone wall. In the corner a man was 
 sleeping, his body curled on a rough pallet of 
 straw, over which a blanket was thrown. It 
 was Antsley. 
 
 "Ted," I called softly. He did not stir. I 
 gave him a shake and he opened his eyes with 
 a look that puzzled me for a moment. Then 
 ]my mind flashed back to a night in White- 
 chapel, when I had gone to find a poor wretch 
 of a friend, who had been missing from his 
 chambers for days. We traced him to a reek-
 
 The Mill Grinds Strange Grist 217 
 
 ing hole where drug-thralled wretches of the 
 slums gathered for the consolation of the 
 opium pipe. It was the first time I had ever 
 seen a man held in the sleep of the damnable 
 poison. His eyes were just like Ted's now. I 
 tried to remember how we had aroused him. 
 Then it came to me that we had dosed him with 
 black coffee. I fumbled around the room and 
 in a corner happened upon a spirit lamp and a 
 pot. There was a cup of mocha with which I 
 brewed a thick black mess of coffee and, prop- 
 ping up his head, tried to force the blistering 
 drink down his throat. The burn of the steam- 
 ing stuff stung the numbed lips and he opened 
 them with an instinctive protest of pain. 
 
 I managed to get a few drops through his 
 clenched teeth. He choked and coughed, and 
 after a bit, allowed me to pour the cup-f ul down 
 his throat, moaning all the while. The strong 
 decoction, before long, worked its way into his 
 veins and stimulated his heart to activity. He
 
 2i8 The Stolen Throne 
 
 stirred feebly and sat up, rubbing his eyes and 
 gazed around with the groping look of a man 
 just returning to consciousness. His glance 
 rested on me. He was evidently puzzled. The 
 uniform, perhaps, threw him off his track a bit, 
 for he stared at me blankly, trying to compre- 
 hend that it was I, and yet, seemingly, unable 
 to realize the fact. 
 
 "It's all right, old man," I assured him, 
 "Come on, brace up and we'll get out in the 
 open air. It will do you good." 
 
 "Wait a minute," he said, "I can't quite take 
 it all in. What are you doing here and where 
 isHelzer?" 
 
 "I'll tell you all about that, later," I replied. 
 "The important thing is to get away from here. 
 Do you feel fit now ?" 
 
 He drew his hand over his brow with a weak 
 gesture and sank back again on the straw. 
 
 "I'm a bit dizzy," he said weakly. "That 
 damned morphine is still in my system. I'm
 
 The Mill Grinds Strange Grist 219 
 
 nauseated. Get me a drink of water, will you 
 please?" 
 
 I brought it to him and he drained the glass 
 at one gulp and motioned for more. I let him 
 lie still after that ; but when I saw him close his 
 eyes again, I thought it best to give him another 
 dose of the coffee. The second cup had the de- 
 sired effect and seemed to clear away the cob- 
 webs from his brain. 
 
 "How did you get here?" he queried. "My 
 God! but it has seemed a year since they got 
 hold of me. You'd better look out for Helzer." 
 
 "Ted," I said, "Providence has done that for 
 us. Helzer is lying down stairs with a broken 
 neck. Oh, no," I hastened to assure him, as he 
 cast a significant look at me, "it was an acci- 
 ; dent. He fell through the trap and lit on his 
 head. But how in the world did you come to 
 get into this state ?" 
 
 "Helzer did it last night," he said. "He 
 punched a hypo into me for fear that he'd fall
 
 220 The Stolen Throne 
 
 asleep and I'd get away. He was afraid to 
 trust to tying me up." 
 
 "Do you feel strong enough to leave?" I 
 asked him. 
 
 "I think I can manage it," he answered, 
 "Lend me your hand." I held out my arm and 
 he struggled to his feet. He was dizzy and 
 rocked a bit. I started to lead him out. "Wait," 
 he said, "I want to get the jewels." He went 
 over to the table and threw it flat on one side. 
 "Unscrew the leg," he said. It turned easily 
 and in an instant I had removed it. "Got a 
 knife ?" he asked. "There's a plug in the end 
 pry it out." I found a very ingeniously fitted 
 disc, which I removed with the point of my 
 blade. The leg was hollow. The top of it was 
 stuffed with papers, which proved to be Sir 
 Seton's narrative. When I dug them out, a 
 flashing stream of jewels fell out on the stones. 
 The two of us bent down to gather them up.
 
 The Mill Grinds Strange Grist 
 
 "The most of them are here, luckily!" Ted 
 said. "We'll go now." 
 
 I descended first; but I looked away from the 
 thing lying on the floor beside me. Then I held 
 the ladder for Antsley. He came down care- 
 fully and when he reached the bottom, stooped 
 over Helzer's body and holding the candle close 
 to his face, peered earnestly at his late captor. 
 
 "Parker," he said, "there's the end of one of 
 the biggest rascals that ever breathed God's 
 clean air. He might have been a great man. 
 There was all that constitutes achievement in 
 his make-up; but he wasn't straight and the 
 crook in his nature brought him to this. Yes, 
 Helzer," he reflected, "you could have played 
 'the big game' and you understood the rules 
 - well enough not to need marked backs on your 
 cards. There was a lot to you a lot." 
 Then he turned around to me. 
 "By George!" he said, "What is the matter 
 with me? Here we stand wasting precious
 
 222 The Stolen Throne 
 
 moments !" While he spoke he was unbutton- 
 ing Helzer's tunic. He groped inside until he 
 found the pocket for which he was looking. 
 
 "They're here, old man!" he said, "Wait, 
 though, we'd better be sure." He drew forth 
 a package of papers and glanced through them 
 quickly by the candle light. "Now," he said, 
 with a satisfied tone, "we'll get out, but first 
 tell me, what day is it ?" 
 
 "Wednesday," I answered. 
 
 "Then there's time," he replied. 
 
 "Time for what?" I asked. 
 
 "Time for us to reach the Palace, time for 
 us to save Gurtha." 
 
 Here was indeed a startling speech. But 
 when I pressed Ted for particulars, he put me 
 off with an impatient gesture. 
 
 "I'll explain all later on," he said, "The im- 
 portant thing at present is to clear out of this 
 place before anybody delays us. I'll tell you 
 everything on the train."
 
 The Mill Grinds Strange Grist 223 
 
 "But we've got to go to the inn first," I said, 
 "Whitworth is there with me and we must pick 
 him up." We ran across the fields at a sharp 
 pace and soon reached the house. I deemed it 
 best, however, that we should not be seen, and 
 therefore, took a long detour which brought us 
 to the back garden, over the wall of which we 
 leaped. We could see Whitworth in the room, 
 silhouetted against the lamp glow. I whistled 
 softly. He leaned out of the window. 
 
 "Aubrey," I called, "I've got Antsley. Find 
 out what time the next train leaves for Strom- 
 burg, settle our bill and join us outside." Whit- 
 worth soon appeared. 
 
 "If the schedule doesn't get hung up, we'll be 
 able to leave within half an hour." The three 
 of us walked to the station and after a little 
 while the wheezing engine puffed into sight. 
 
 "There's an empty carriage," said Antsley, 
 "make a dive for it."
 
 224 
 
 The Stolen Throne 
 
 I heaved a sigh of relief as we closed the 
 door. Whitworth turned around to me, 
 
 "Now," he said, "will you please tell me all 
 about it !" 
 
 "My story can wait," I answered him, 
 "There's a far more important tale to be heard 
 first. Come on, Ted," I cried, "It's about time 
 that we knew about you, and since we've a long 
 ride ahead of us, you may as well begin at the 
 outset and give us all the details."
 
 What 
 Happened to Antsley
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 What Happened to Antsley." 
 
 (HEN I ran out of the hospital 
 that afternoon, my haste 
 aroused the suspicion of the at- 
 tendants, and I was summarily 
 checked and plied with ques- 
 tions. My explanations were 
 met wittTshrugs of disbelief, but I was finally 
 able to secure my release. By that time, natur- 
 ally, all trace of our eavesdropper was lost. My 
 first impulse was to return to you, but I re- 
 membered that my unwary speech had dis- 
 closed the resting place of the Stromburg 
 jewels, and the realization of this unpleasant 
 truth winged my steps. I jumped into a car- 
 riage and tore to the Continental, with all the 
 energy that whip and double fare could get out 
 of the horses. I did not stop to make inquiry 
 at the office, but leaped up the stairs, three
 
 228 The Stolen Throne 
 
 steps at a stride, dimly conscious that Christof 
 was calling to me from below, and hurling open 
 my door, ran plump into the range of a damned 
 obtrusive revolver, and incidentally, Captain 
 Helzer. 
 
 "Tlease shut the door/ he said, 1 can't 
 stand draughts/ ' 
 
 "What did you do?" I asked Antsley. 
 
 "My dear boy," he answered me, "you re- 
 mind me of the cockney who went punting with 
 his sweetheart down at Maidenhead. The skiff 
 had been punctured earlier in the day, and the 
 hole had been patched up with a wooden plug. 
 When he returned to the landing he told a 
 mutual acquaintance that she had refused to 
 kiss him, whereupon he threatened to remove 
 the plug if she did not alter her mind. 'I sye," 
 asks the other chap, "did she kiss yer ?" 
 
 " Well/ replied Sammy, scratching his chin, 
 'yer ain't 'card of no lydies bein' drownded
 
 What Happened to Antsley 229 
 
 'round about Mydenead wye, 'ere of lyte, 'ave 
 yer?'" 
 
 "And so," I stated, "you shut it?" 
 
 "Not being more than a common, ordinary, 
 garden variety of fool, I did," Ted answered. 
 "But to get back onto the main track: 
 
 " 'Helzer,' I said, 'can't you stick that fool 
 pistol in some other direction? I am supersti- 
 tious about firearms. I have an idea that they 
 go off, every now and then. Besides, it's bad 
 form to order a man around in his own apart- 
 ments/ 
 
 "Helzer smiled. 'Ah, but you have just 
 
 given them up!' 
 
 "Some one rapped. 'Don't move/ he whis- 
 pered. It is your account ; I instructed them to 
 make it out for you. Order him to shove it un- 
 der the door/ 
 
 "'Look here, Helzer'/ I cried, after I had 
 picked up the bill, 'I think you've taken too in-
 
 230 The Stolen Throne 
 
 fernally much interest in my affairs! What 
 does all this monkey business mean?' 
 
 " 'It means/ he purred between his puffs, 
 'that you are going to take a little journey with 
 me.' He drew his watch. 'You must hurry 
 if you want to catch the train, so start your 
 packing, and I'll explain while you are at it. I 
 have invited you to become my guest at a most 
 delightful place up in the mountains. As you 
 may spend an indefinite period with me, you 
 will need all your belongings, so be sure to take 
 everything away with you/ 
 
 : 'What are you driving at ?' I demanded. 
 
 : 'Well, to be frank, the Stromburg jewels ! 
 Oh, yes, it was I who overheard you this after- 
 noon, and, being a wise man, I have turned 
 opportunity to practical account. On my way 
 here I conceived a very neat plan. The moment 
 I arrived, I notified the hotel people that you 
 had been summoned home to England, and 
 wished your account closed immediately. I
 
 What Happened to Antsley 231 
 
 stated that you had sent me ahead to straighten 
 out the details of your departure. I did not take 
 much risk of a muddle, as I calculated that you 
 would dart by the office when you reached here 
 and lose no time in getting to your precious 
 trunk. As you perceive, my deductions were 
 logical. You will now proceed to complete the 
 other details for me/ 
 
 " 'Answer me one question, will you, Helzer ? 
 Why didn't you smooch the jewels while you 
 had the chance?' 
 
 " 'Had is hardly the word,' he answered. " 'I 
 have both the opportunity and the jewels, as 
 well as yourself. I suppose you thought to re- 
 turn and find your rooms a mass of litter and 
 a path of havoc, which would lead a blind man 
 directly to me? My friend, I fear that you do 
 not properly appreciate me! As you perceive, 
 I have not molested your possessions in the 
 slightest. My hand has not touched a single 
 thing belonging to you. I leave no trace of
 
 232 The Stolen Throne 
 
 connection between myself and the jewels in 
 your care. How can I lie under the stigma of 
 suspicion, or for a moment fear the idea of ac- 
 cusation, so long as you, of your own accord, 
 take your luggage and me away with you? 
 For the world will shortly behold us descend 
 together, chatting amiably upon the weather, 
 or some other equally innocuous topic. We 
 shall enter a carriage and drive to the railway 
 station, where you will purchase a ticket to 
 London. Your dear friend, Captain Helzer, 
 is merely accompanying you part of the way to 
 break the monotony of your journey. Why 
 should any one be alarmed or entertain the 
 least doubt over our camaradie? And you, be- 
 ing an unusually sane and level-headed man, 
 will, I am sure, do nothing so foolish as to 
 arouse such doubt.' 
 
 " 'Oh, won't I ?' was my response. 'You'll 
 find your basket of eggs pretty much of an 
 omelet, if you are counting upon my passive ac-
 
 What Happened to Antsley 233 
 
 quiescence to your brigandage. I warn you 
 now, that the moment you remove your weapon 
 from range, I shall prove the biggest handful 
 of trouble it has ever been your lot to tackle!' 
 
 " ''Allow me to contradict you !' he retorted. 
 
 "As soon as my effects were gathered, at 
 Helzer's suggestion, I rang for the porter. 
 
 " 'Now, let me do the talking/ he stated, 
 'and you keep facing me. It may perhaps inter- 
 est you to know that I shall have you covered 
 through my coat pocket. So I'm sure you 
 won't be gauche enough to interrupt me, nor so 
 impolite as to contradict anything that I shall 
 say.' 
 
 "Christof knocked at the door. 'Let him in/ 
 said Helzer. 
 
 " 'Christof/ he remarked, 'Mr. Antsley 
 wishes you to pay his account, which he finds 
 to be correct. Secure a receipt, then return 
 and remove his luggage. We leave Stromburg
 
 234 The Stolen Throne 
 
 within a half hour, so lose no time. ' Christof 
 looked up at me in inquiry. 
 
 ' 'Do as Captain Helzer desires/ I stated. 
 Christof obediently withdrew. 
 
 ' 'Now/ remarked Helzer, 'listen closely to 
 what I say. I have gone too far in this affair 
 to retrace my steps. I need funds more than 
 I have ever wanted money in my life. I am 
 running a tremendous risk to obtain these 
 jewels, and before I allow myself to be blocked 
 by you, I shall not hesitate at the most extreme 
 measures, so that if you still entertain any idea 
 of resistance, why, make up your mind that I 
 intend to shoot you at the first inclination 
 toward escape or outcry. 
 
 " 'When we descend the stairs, you will 
 take my arm, and lean your body close to mine. 
 I shall keep one hand constantly in my pocket, 
 and my pistol barrel will be pressed against 
 your side. 
 
 " 'We are going to Biel, where you will hand
 
 What Happened to Antsley 235 
 
 over your keys to me. You will remain there 
 until I can dispose of the stones, and make ar- 
 rangements to get out of Stromburg in safety. 
 I do not mean to harm you or cause you the 
 least annoyance, provided that you fall in with 
 my desires. If you balk me, I will kill you/ ' 
 Antsley paused. 
 
 "Well, he had me. I might have taken a 
 chance, but I did not like the percentage. So 
 we left the hotel, to all appearances on terms of 
 the most intense intimacy, and when we reached 
 the station Helzer took possession of the lug- 
 gage. As soon as we arrived at Biel he brought 
 me to the mill. Here I remained a close pris- 
 oner. The place is the rendezvous of a pro- 
 Russian cabal, and I was kept under constant 
 _-8urveillance. 
 
 "Helzer's first act was to rifle my trunk and 
 remove the chest. He made a secret hiding 
 place for the papers and jewels by boring a hole 
 in the table leg. He could not read English
 
 236 The Stolen Throne 
 
 and so he was not able to decipher the writing. 
 There were two other men in the plot with him, 
 little Jansen and a Russian by the name of 
 Bruch. They took turns guarding me. Jansen 
 undertook to dispose of the stones, but Helzer 
 would only entrust him with a few gems at a 
 time. 
 
 "Their treatment was at all times consider- 
 ate, and save that I did not have a moment to 
 myself, I had a fairly pleasant time in their 
 company. A fourth man used to come to see 
 them, but they never permitted me to catch 
 sight of him. They would lock me in and con- 
 fer with him in another room. I managed to 
 get piecemeal snatches of their conversation by 
 listening at the door, and learned a plot that 
 was under way to prostitute the army for Rus- 
 sia and make away with Gurtha. Blitzow's 
 hand was directing the dirty business, and I 
 gathered that on a former occasion, a similar 
 plot had been laid, only that time the proposi-
 
 What Happened to Antsley 237 
 
 tion was to replace Gurtha with Alexis. Your 
 coup, Parker, upset that little arrangement." 
 
 "Night before last, Jansen did not come out 
 at the usual hour, and Helzer was obliged to re- 
 main all night guarding me. I noted that he 
 was sorely in need of sleep. He had been drink- 
 ing. His bleary eyes told of carousing, and he 
 could scarcely hold himself together, and I was 
 in hopes that drowsiness would throw him 
 off his guard. But Helzer was a very cunning 
 man. He did not trust to tying me up, realizing 
 that once he succumbed to the need of rest, he 
 would probably sink into such a deep stupor, 
 that I might accomplish the loosening of my 
 bonds before he awakened. He was a drug 
 habitue, as I soon found after we had been to- 
 gether a little while. And the devilish plan of 
 pumping me full of morphine occurred to him. 
 He jabbed the needle in me while I was dozing, 
 and inasmuch as I had no opportunity of get- 
 ting hold of anything to combat the effects of
 
 238 The Stolen Throne 
 
 the morphine, it was an easy matter for him 
 to keep me in a state of semi-coma afterwards. 
 Bruch and he had been Blitzow's agents in 
 Stromburg for the past year, and from conver- 
 sations which I had overheard I surmised that 
 Helzer kept upon his person the papers which 
 detailed the plot to dispose of Gurtha. You 
 may imagine how fortunate for the duchess 
 your coming proved to-night, for Helzer's ac- 
 cidental death has placed in our hands not only 
 this evidence, but the names of hundreds of 
 men both in private life and in the army, who 
 have made themselves parties to the treason. 
 From what I can gather, the blow is to be 
 struck before morning, so that, we had best 
 not trust to any delay but give immediate warn- 
 ing to Gurtha." 
 
 Whitworth, however, thought it advisable to 
 join Burton to our forces. "We can stop at 
 the Legation on our way to the Palace and at
 
 What Happened to Antsley 239 
 
 the utmost, the interruption will not take more 
 than a few moments." 
 
 i I did not agree with him, however, but Ants- 
 ley thought it perhaps best to follow out Whit- 
 worth's suggestion. 
 
 We made much better time on our journey 
 home than we had in the morning, and it was 
 some while before midnight when we arrived 
 at Stromburg. The three of us burst in on 
 Burton just as he was about to tub. He took 
 in the situation in a flash. He thought it a 
 good plan to send for the Chancellor and notify 
 him of the impending disaster. 
 
 "I don't agree with you," I demurred, "one 
 of us had better go right on to the palace, and 
 meanwhile you can sound the alarm and see 
 that troops are sent to guard Her Grace." 
 
 "On second thought, I agree with you," said 
 Burton. 
 
 "And it will be safest for you to undertake 
 the mission," said Whitworth, turning to me,
 
 240 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "as you are least likely to arouse suspicion, 
 since you are wearing Jansen's uniform." 
 
 "And in the next place he knows a private 
 entrance to Gurtha's apartments/' added Ants- 
 ley. 
 
 "But," cried Burton, about to start upon a 
 new thread of speculation. 
 
 Antsley cut in on him: "Don't waste time," 
 he cried, "Act ! Act ! If they miss Helzer and 
 grow suspicious, the chances are they will rush 
 events ahead of schedule and turn Hell loose 
 before we can do anything." 
 
 "When I come to consider it, you had better 
 go," I suggested to Ted. "When she sees 
 me " I shrugged my shoulders signifi- 
 cantly. 
 
 Burton merely pointed to the mirror. "She 
 will never know you," he said. 
 
 It was true. There was little resemblance 
 between the troubadour of the rose garden and 
 the booted soldier who faced me from the pier
 
 What Happened to Antsley 241 
 
 glass. The one had been a stalwart figure of 
 a man. I was now wasted from the ravages of 
 my sickness, and but a semblance of my usual 
 self. The "me" she last gazed upon had been 
 clean-shaven and tanned. The face of the sol- 
 dier was pale and heavily bearded. 
 
 "I will keep these," said Burton, gathering 
 up the papers; "something might happen to 
 you." 
 
 "I must have them," I answered. "She may 
 not believe me. I can risk no chance." 
 
 I left the legation with the same stealth that 
 I had entered it and slunk along the streets, 
 cautious of ear and eye. Twice I was accosted 
 by outposts of the cabal, but the whispered 
 password "Liberty and Russia," secured me in- 
 stant release from further annoyance.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 "Carma." 
 
 HEN I reached the south gate, I 
 slid my revolver from my belt 
 and ran it up my sleeve, with 
 the muzzle resting against my 
 finger-tip. I found the entrance 
 unguarded, and passed in with- 
 out observation. When I came to the passage 
 I noted that it was in darkness and instinctively 
 paused. Before long I realized that some one 
 was ahead of me in the shadows, so near, that 
 I could hear the pumping of his breath and the 
 unsnapping of the button on his holster, as he 
 , fumbled for his pistol. 
 
 I whispered the password, at which he sighed 
 with relief and drew nearer. 
 
 "What kept you?" he complained. "I have 
 been here almost an hour. I thought that l\ 
 should have to do it."
 
 246 The Stolen Throne 
 
 I mumbled something adequate to the query 
 and lapsed into silence. 
 
 "Why doesn't Carma come?" he exclaimed 
 after a bit. "It is surely the hour ! I told you 
 that you would not get her to do it." 
 
 This was becoming interesting. Evidently, 
 Gurtha was to be betrayed by one of her own 
 women. But who was I, and what was pre- 
 cisely my mission ? Impatient to reach Gurtha 
 I was just as curious to learn my identity anc, 
 my expected share in this night's work. 
 
 A sigh. Another sigh. A third sigh. Then 
 "Remember, you must divide fairly with me 
 half the jewels !" 
 
 Silence. 
 
 "I was thinking how I would do it, if you had 
 not come. I decided not to use the knife. She 
 is so beautiful, it would be a shame to mar her 
 loveliness. I suppose I am a sentimental fool, 
 but Vogel (ah, so at least I was Vogel!) 
 "I want you to make me one promise. Re-
 
 Carma 247 
 
 member that she is a woman. The knife is all 
 right for men, but to slide a blade across her 
 soft throat ugh !" 
 
 "Well?" I ventured. 
 
 "Promise me that you will be merciful and 
 only strangle her." 
 
 In the darkness, of course, he had no inkling 
 of his mistake. He was assured of my identity, 
 and his most immediate concern seemed to be 
 the booty. The cold-blooded hyena ! The kill- 
 lust of all my cave-men ancestors rioted in my 
 blood. He was within arm-distance of me. I 
 emptied my lungs, and with the inhalation to 
 lend power to my clutch, I struck for his throat 
 with one hand, and smashed him under the ear 
 with the other. Fate guided the blind attack. 
 One abortive grunt was all that he uttered as 
 he crumpled to his knees and relaxed. And 
 then I choked. 
 
 When I released my hold he was utterly still. 
 But it was not a moment for humanity. I un-
 
 248 The Stolen Throne 
 
 buckled his sword-belt, and throwing him upon 
 his face, strapped his elbows together. With 
 my own belt I secured his feet, then slipped his 
 scabbard into his mouth, and with my scarf, 
 bound the gag fast, with cruelly drawn knots. 
 
 Kicking the brute to one side, I hastened 
 along the passage until I came to the slit of 
 light which marked the entrance to Gurtha's 
 apartments. I leaned against the wall and 
 rested. Soon the door was stealthily opened 
 and a face peered out. It was the woman of 
 my former rendezvous, Gurtha's lady-in-wait- 
 ing. Her finger was pressed against her lips 
 in caution, as she beckoned to me. Averting 
 my head, I bent close for the message. 
 
 "She is about to offer her prayers. As soon 
 as she kneels I will open the door for you. Then 
 I shall slip out and wait for you here in the 
 passage." 
 
 My mind moved quickly. If she discovered 
 that I was an impostor, there would be no
 
 Carma 249 
 
 knowing how quickly the fat would be in the 
 fire. 
 
 "Not here !" I cried. "Go through the other 
 entrance. When I hear you slam the door, I 
 will come in. Do not stop for a moment after 
 that. You must not see what happens, and it 
 will be perilous for you when the others come." 
 
 It seemed eternity before I heard the signal ; 
 then with cautious fingers I turned the knob 
 and paused in the doorway. 
 
 There was no light save that which fell upon 
 her from the tapers on the shrine. She knelt 
 with uplifted face and her hands clasped in sup- 
 plication. Her hair, unloosened, poured in a 
 gleaming glory to the floor, and cloaked her 
 -figure from my eyes. In her face, there was the 
 radiance of an angel, facing the throne of God. 
 All the heart-hunger of my dreams awakened 
 at the vision, and the desert within my breast 
 blossomed. 
 
 "Make me worthy, Oh Father !" she prayed.
 
 250 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "Give me strength for my task; teach me to be 
 humble in Thy sight, and show me the way to 
 Thy kingdom. Guide my hand to justice and 
 my heart to mercy; temper my pride in the 
 crucible of Thine understanding. For, Lord, 
 I am but a woman, and weak without Thee. 
 There are dangers which beset my way, and 
 pit-falls before my stumbling feet. Intrigue 
 and treachery girt me about. Do Thou open 
 mine eyes to the Truth, and show me how I 
 may best use my power. Make me courageous 
 and strong of purpose, that I may bring to my 
 people fair, prosperous and happy years. Thou 
 hast appointed me to a high place, and I am 
 helpless, save for the strength that comes from 
 Thee. And, Lord, I beseech Thee, bring for- 
 giveness to his heart. Teach him to forget the 
 bitterness. Guard his days and save him from 
 danger, for, Lord, I love him very dearly !" 
 
 When her prayer was ended she arose, and 
 turning, saw me standing there. In sheer
 
 "/;; her face there was the radiance of an angel 
 facing the Throne of God ' '
 
 Carma 251 
 
 amazement she beheld me, nor did she utter -a 
 sound, but stood spell-bound at the sight. 
 Fairer than any woman under the stars was 
 she. Her shoulders shone rosier than their 
 wont, with the crimson tide of shame that dyed 
 them at the thought of my vandal glance. 
 
 "Quick, quick ! Lock that door and pull the 
 bolt!" I cried. 
 
 My ears, attuned to the imminence of every 
 peril, had caught the swish of skirts, and with- 
 out waiting for Gurtha, I ran across the room 
 and myself turned the key. Immediately there 
 was a knocking on the panel. 
 
 "It is I, my lady ; Carma ! Open, in the name 
 of mercy, open !" 
 
 Gurtha's fingers were fumbling at the door 
 before I could seize her hand. 
 
 "Don't!" I whispered, interposing myself, 
 and forcing her away. 
 
 "How dare you!" she panted, rubbing her
 
 252 The Stolen Throne 
 
 hand against her robe, as though to cleanse it 
 of the defilement of my touch. 
 
 Then the realization of her utter sequestra- 
 tion smote her, and she ran across the room 
 and tried to tug the bell-cord. Again I 
 thwarted her, but this time she contested with 
 me, throwing her body against mine in the 
 struggle. She writhed and twisted so, in my 
 grasp, that I was forced to use more of my 
 strength than I wished. 
 
 "Oh, you cur, you unspeakable dog!" she 
 sobbed, and leaned against the wall, with her 
 head buried in her arms. 
 
 "Now, be sensible," I whispered. "This is 
 no time for weakness or hysteria. Listen 
 closely to what I say. If we do not get out of 
 the palace at once, neither you nor I will ever 
 leave it. The palace-guard has gone over to 
 Russia, and your death has been determined 
 on. You must not question or hesitate. We 
 have already waited too long."
 
 Carma 253 
 
 "Who are you?" she asked suspiciously. 
 
 "A loyal subject, who offers his life to save 
 your own." 
 
 "Why should I believe you since you keep 
 my woman from me? Unlock the door for 
 Carma." 
 
 "That I will not!" I replied. "For this hour 
 / am master. You will do as I command. 
 There is no Duchess of Stromburg to-night, 
 only a woman whose need is great. If you are 
 alive to-morrow, you may deal with me as you 
 see fit, but realize this: I am determined to 
 carry you out of this room to safety, if I have 
 to bind you and bring you away in my arms." 
 
 "Carma ! Carma !" she cried, "Go for help !" 
 
 "I am right, you see," I said. "No one an- 
 swers you. Now do you understand ? It was 
 Carma who betrayed you. Has it not occurred 
 to you, that I could not have entered here with- 
 out assistance from this room? Oh, believe 
 me, my lady, believe me ! Come to the light, I
 
 254 The Stolen Throne 
 
 will prove to you that I speak the truth. Here 
 are the damning proofs of all that I have told 
 you. Read. What more can I do to convince 
 you? Wait!" 
 
 I reached into my holster and drew my revol- 
 ver. She, misunderstanding the movement 
 gave a choking little cry and tore at the throat 
 of her robe, baring her goddess breasts. Poor 
 little, brave little Duchess ! Oh, how my heart 
 bled at your piteous resignation ! How I longed 
 to strain you to my bosom and accolade your 
 courage with my kisses ! 
 
 "Your Grace !" I murmured, dropping to my 
 knees, "take this, and if you doubt now, bring 
 me the justice which you think I merit." She 
 made a little gesture of despair. 
 
 "It is as God wills," she said. "I am in His 
 hands!" 
 
 A sudden gust of wind came from the win- 
 dow and extinguished the tapers on the altar, 
 leaving the room in total darkness. I drew
 
 Carma 255 
 
 aside the draperies to let in the moonlight and, 
 glancing down, saw a shadowy group under 
 the trees. The significance of the sight made 
 my heart heavy. The delay had cost us dearly. 
 I did not know that she was standing beside 
 me, but when I looked up at her I saw that she 
 understood. 
 
 "Go !" she said softly. "I have brought this 
 upon myself. Heaven reward your valor and 
 fidelity! I cannot sacrifice so brave a man. 
 Stromburg will need strong arms and patriot 
 hearts to-morrow." 
 
 "No, my lady!" I answered, "that I will not! 
 I have found you in your peril, and I will bring 
 
 you out of it in safety. Sh !" Carma was 
 
 again at the door. I drew the bolts quickly 
 and opened it. She was crouched on her knees, 
 and before she could get away I seized her and 
 dragged her into the room. 
 
 "Oh, you traitor !" she snarled, as she tore to 
 escape.
 
 256 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "Carma !" cried the Duchess. "Oh ! Oh !" 
 
 "It's a lie, my lady! Don't believe him; he 
 is an impostor." 
 
 "Why did you stay and listen?" I asked. "I 
 thought you had left with the other rats." 
 
 She maintained a dogged silence for awhile, 
 then faced me with defiance. 
 
 "Every door is locked from without," she 
 said. "I could not get away, or, depend upon 
 it, I would have brought them here after you !" 
 
 "Carma !" I cried, "get out of your clothes ! 
 You must change with the Duchess. If you 
 refuse, I will tear them from you by main 
 force." 
 
 "Not that! Not that! You can't mean it !" 
 she panted as the realization of my plan came 
 to her. "Why, they will come and think that 
 I am My Lady, and will kill me \ Oh, take me 
 away with you ! Don't, don't, don't. Oh, Your 
 Grace, I was mad ; I did not realize how awful
 
 Carma 257 
 
 it would be ! He made me promise, and threat- 
 ened to leave me, and I love him so ! But I re- 
 pent now ; I will serve you like a dog to the end 
 of my days! Only take me away!" and she 
 swooned. 
 
 Between us we managed to remove her outer 
 garments and Gurtha slipped them over her 
 boudoir robe. 
 
 "Your hair," I said, "will betray you. Find 
 a scarf and wrap it around you." 
 
 We locked the one door from within, and 
 then crossed into the corridor from which I 
 had entered. The woman had struggled to her 
 feet, and as I attempted to close the door, she 
 seized it with her two hands and tried to keep 
 it open, sobbing all the while. I unclenched 
 Tier hold, but as fast as I loosened her grasp, she 
 clutched the door again. There was nothing 
 else to do. Life-precious moments were being 
 wasted. I smashed her fingers again with the 
 butt of my revolver. Haunted with her moans
 
 258 The Stolen Throne 
 
 of pain and fright, I turned the key, removed 
 it from its lock and left her there. 
 
 We made our way down the passage, but be- 
 fore we had proceeded many feet, we heard 
 some one coming toward us. The footfalls 
 were irregular and lurching. I placed Gurtha 
 to one side, and hastened forward. 
 
 "Hello!" a voice muttered thickly. "Why 
 did you not wait down there as you promised ? 
 I thought you had gone." 
 
 "You're late, Vogel," I replied, at happy 
 random. "What kept you? You have been 
 drinking." 
 
 "Surely, I have," he mumbled. "Need a 
 stimulant Liberty and Russia !" 
 
 "Everything is ready," I assured him. 
 "Carma grew alarmed at the delay and ran 
 away. She locked up the Duchess. I will wait 
 here for my share." 
 
 "Don't trust me, eh? Think I won't divide
 
 Carma 259 
 
 fairly with you? All right, then; come with 
 me and get it yourself !" 
 
 "Oh, no, Vogel," I assured him, "you are 
 wrong! I would be the last person in the 
 world to doubt your honor !" 
 
 "That's right," he rambled. "Honor of a 
 soldier and gentleman never tarnished. Give 
 me the key !" 
 
 As soon as he had proceeded a fair distance 
 I seized Gurtha's arm and ran on with her. As 
 we passed into the open I blundered into a 
 group of soldiers, the first of whom threatened 
 me with drawn sword. 
 
 "The password !" he demanded. 
 
 "Liberty and Russia !" He came nearer and 
 peered into Gurtha's face. 
 
 "Oh, it's the woman/' he sneered, and 
 shrugged his shoulders. Just then a shriek of 
 terror came from the palace, and at the sound, 
 the pack burst into the passage. No one noted 
 that we remained behind, and so only we two
 
 260 The Stolen Throne 
 
 saw the flood of light that broke from Gurtha's 
 window. 
 
 Then there came another cry, the hideous 
 scream of a man who knows that his soul has 
 died and that his body must live. 
 
 "Come!" I cried, and then looked up to see 
 the last act of that night's miserable tragedy. 
 A man was standing at the window, a man 
 whose eyes were fixed on something at his feet, 
 and as we turned, we saw him bury his head in 
 his two hands and sway for support as he fell.
 
 "The Grave 
 That No Man Finds
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 'The Grave That No Man Finds" 
 
 HE Stromburg conspiracy died 
 within an hour after it at- 
 tempted to rear its ugly head. 
 Thanks to Antsley's timely in- 
 tervention, what might have 
 been a murderous revolution al- 
 most proved an opera bouffe fiasco. Burton 
 and Whitworth did valiant work in arousing 
 aid and, even as Gurtha sped through the 
 streets with me, seeking a haven for the night, 
 the thundering hoofs of cavalry sounded in the 
 distance and the almost muffled tread of quickly 
 .marching men, came to our ears in a vague blur 
 of sound. The true extent of Blitzow's in- 
 fluence has never been ascertained, for the un- 
 expected counter-move of the State against the 
 cabal, chilled the ardor of conspiracy in many a 
 breast that had burned with the hysteria of re-
 
 264 The Stolen Throne 
 
 yolt. So that the little company of renegades, 
 which had been chosen to initiate the uprising, 
 found itself opposed by a force of pitiless, men- 
 acing loyalists. When they heard the march 
 of the soldiers, they had been deceived. Un- 
 conscious of the betrayal of their plans, to them 
 it was the approach of friends and so no 
 thought of retreat crossed their minds. In- 
 stead, they broke into a cheer when the stars 
 shone on the glittering bayonets and flashed 
 on the waving yactagans of the hussars. 
 
 It was not a fight; it was barely a struggle; 
 it was simply slaughter. They did not know 
 what was in store for them until the foremost 
 man in their ranks leaped into the air fumbling 
 at a hole in his throat. Then came the first 
 volley and before they could draw their 
 weapons and with their half incredulous senses 
 rally in the face of their assailants, the bayonets 
 were already tearing through them and the 
 horses were beating them to the ground. The
 
 The Grave That No Man Finds 265 
 
 attacking party outnumbered them frightfully. 
 At first, they fought in two definite masses ; but 
 after half of the malcontents were down, those 
 who were still unscathed (or who were whole 
 enough to move) threw their weapons from 
 them and ran helter-skelter in any direction 
 which promised safety. The melee changed to 
 a hunt. The organized troops broke from the 
 control of their officers and an ominous game 
 of "hare and hounds" followed. Often a dozen 
 men were in full cry after a single fugitive. 
 And Fate must have smiled with a wry mouth 
 that night, for many of the soldiers who hacked 
 the hardest and stabbed the deepest, had 
 covertly pledged their allegiance to the very 
 cause which they were now opposing. It was 
 only blind chance that did not make them mem- 
 bers of the same pack which they hunted. They 
 fought as wolves fight. And they showed the 
 same cruelty that a wolf shows when a weak 
 brother falls in the chase.
 
 266 The Stolen Throne 
 
 The early carters, rubbing the sleep from 
 their heavy eyes, saw strange things that morn- 
 ing in Stromburg. Dead men littered the 
 streets. Some lay upon the cobble stones, their 
 twisted limbs setting with the stiffening chill 
 of death. Some rested where they had crouched 
 in the hallways of homes. One boy hung over 
 the side of a bridge, with a leg crooked upon 
 the rail and his head bent forward, just as he 
 had been when a bullet checked his plunge into 
 the Sarga. 
 
 While one body of troops was rushed to the 
 palace, another spread through the town, bent 
 on a different mission. For the papers found 
 on Helzer were signed with the names of many 
 unwary men and seventy of these were cap-' 
 tured. The rest escaped and made their way 
 into the mountains, to hide there until a favor- 
 able opportunity presented itself to gain the 
 frontier. 
 
 The citizens of Stromburg could hardly
 
 The Grave That No Man Finds 267 
 
 realize what had transpired, so complete and 
 swift had been the reprisal. Gurtha and I were 
 almost at the Legation when we encountered 
 the chancellor and his son. Aroused by Whit- 
 worth, they had set out with a guard to dis- 
 cover her fate. With a cry of relief they took 
 her from my charge and removed her to a place 
 of safety. 
 
 Deeming it unwise to remain abroad, now 
 that she was out of danger, I sought entrance 
 at the Continental. It was a wise judgment. 
 For, hardly had I slipped into the cautiously 
 opened door when the square was overrun with 
 a shrieking medley of men. And I do not know 
 but what, in the promiscuous fighting, I might 
 have met with serious injury at the hands of 
 some excited and misguided soldier, had I ven- 
 tured to reach the Legation through their 
 midst. 
 
 Before another night had passed the final 
 line was added to the chapter. An immediate
 
 268 The Stolen Throne 
 
 trial had been given the captured revolution- 
 ists. The drum-head court dealt swiftly with 
 the guilty and the tidings of its verdict swept 
 through the city like an ill wind of disaster. 
 
 It was not a pretty sight to see the seventy 
 doomed wretches march forth at dusk with 
 black cloths covering their faces and their 
 elbows held tight behind their backs with 
 cruelly drawn knots. A light rain had been 
 falling and the faint fragrance of bleeding 
 earth came from a newly opened trench, that 
 gashed the center of the parade grounds. A 
 file of soldiers was deployed on either side of the 
 line and they paced to the sobbing measure of 
 muted drums. After the seventy came the regi- 
 ments of Stromburg and the haggard light dis- 
 closed a straggling mob of towns-people in the 
 wake of the soldiery wives and mothers 
 sisters and sons fathers and daughters whose 
 grief was a fitting accompaniment to the 
 ominous wail of the drums.
 
 The Grave That No Man Finds 269 
 
 They stood them on the edge of the trench, 
 these seventy men, and the sun slinking down 
 in the western heavens, absent-mindedly 
 started to smile upon the scene, but remember- 
 ing, quickly hid his face behind the mountains. 
 
 The priests offered up prayer. Their voices 
 were torn with woe. On the outskirts of the 
 scene, the fringe of kneeling figures silhouetted 
 in the haze, chokingly joined in the appeal to 
 God. 
 
 The seventy, they prayed too. But none 
 could hear them for the distance that separated 
 them from the throng. 
 
 It was an unsteady line that stood upon the 
 edge of the trench, with here and there a shud- 
 ^dering weak brother, who swayed with fright 
 of the blind future. One man tottered and 
 supported himself against a comrade, but both 
 their hands were tied and so he slipped and fell 
 down. 
 
 When the prayer ceased, they made up a
 
 270 The Stolen Throne 
 
 firing party, but first a corporal took their 
 guns, and every third one he loaded with 
 blank cartridges, so that each man could give 
 himself the benefit of doubt, if his conscience 
 cried against his acting as executioner. 
 
 One by one, they shot them down. So that 
 those who were present had their hearts torn 
 afresh at each volley, for every man thus died 
 seventy times in the memory of his people. 
 
 And, when the last one fell, a party of sap- 
 pers came and pushed their bodies into the 
 trench and raked the earth back over it, piling 
 it up in a loose mound. Then the drums sobbed 
 anew and the regiments swept into step first 
 the infantry, then the cavalry and last the 
 artillery. 
 
 Straight on they marched, drawn-faced men 
 with hurt souls and shuddering eyes straight 
 over the field they went, over the grave itself 
 the heels of the soldiers and the hoofs of the 
 horses and the wheels of the cannons and the
 
 The Grave That No Man Finds 271 
 
 carriages, and when they passed once, they re- 
 formed and marched over the grave again. So 
 that, when they left the field, no one could tell 
 where the grave had been, for all the ground 
 was now trampled alike. 
 
 And no mother could come in after days and 
 moan over the resting place of her son's body, 
 and no sweetheart could know where her lover 
 lay. And it was a good thing for the State to 
 have it so to breed into the very wombs of its 
 women, the shuddering horror of the traitor's 
 death and the "Grave That No Man Finds."
 
 Wiedersehen
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 'Auf Wiedersehen" 
 
 IHERE are miseries that cut a 
 man's memory like the slash of 
 a dulled knife and leave much 
 the same brutal scar. One such 
 night comes out of the sobs of 
 the past now and blots my page 
 with tears. A night of numb, dumb, aching 
 travail. A night built of a million clock ticks, 
 when time slipped back two minutes, each time 
 the hands spelt one. 
 
 I sat alone with the fantasies that God in his 
 infinite cruelty, sends to man that he may 
 realize how very dear was Paradise. 
 
 Tick, tick, tick, tick ! Damn the noise ! How 
 
 the clangor of the minutes shattered the silence. 
 
 I paced the floor to their rhythm. My very 
 
 veins caught the measure and surged and 
 
 pulsed in consonance with the tumult. I know
 
 276 The Stolen Throne 
 
 that Hell is just an eternity of nights as this 
 no peace, no calm just pain emptiness 
 aching and despair. 
 
 Oh, the torture of these last months. My 
 hopes had leaped when Burton brought me 
 word that freedom had been granted me. 
 The proof of Russia's complicity in the plot had 
 nullified her right to demand my punishment 
 and what misconstruction had been placed upon 
 my earlier exploits in Stromburg, was erased 
 by the knowledge that it was I who had led 
 Gurtha to safety. I waited for many days, but 
 no word came from her, until at last I was 
 forced to realize the folly of my dreams. And 
 so Antsley and I had gone away. 
 
 We travelled through the Balkans; we 
 rambled through the Caucasus; we hunted in 
 the Tyrol; but life was flat and had no zest. 
 Always the longing to see her again gnawed 
 away at my peace. In the end I had returned,
 
 Auf Wiedersehen 277 
 
 dominated by the torturing strain of my 
 futile infatuation. And now that I was back to 
 Stromburg, once more I knew how fruitless my 
 hopes had been. I saw the truth in its naked 
 cruelty. Life held nothing for me except one 
 drab 'to-morrow/ And with that realization I 
 determined that I would leave again in the 
 morning. I would content myself with mem- 
 ories of her. I would take up my life back in 
 my own world of the commonplace; but still I 
 knew that I would always have her image fresh 
 in my soul, and when the pain gnawed hardest 
 and my heart was heavy, I would make her 
 memory a rosary of consolation. I would find 
 .peace in knowing that I had come to her at her 
 need, and not in vain. After all, it was best 
 that she did not know. If I could not have her 
 heart, I would not take her pity, and so I sat 
 with lumpy throat and tears of self-commisera- 
 tion fighting their way to my eyes.
 
 278 The Stolen Throne 
 
 Burton arose early and we took breakfast 
 together. 
 
 "So you're going back to London," he said, 
 with a whimsical smile. "I envy you ! There's 
 only one London. A man can find Paris in a 
 half dozen quarters of the globe, but you can't 
 transplant London. She calls you back home, 
 and your heart hears the cry, singing like the 
 voice of an absent sweetheart. She's dirty and 
 she's murky, and she's noisy, is London. She's 
 a hard-headed old woman and likes her own 
 ways, but, after all's said, they're best. 
 
 "So you'll go home and forget the days you 
 spent up here in the mountains. You'll pound 
 the Strand from Waterloo to Oxford. You'll 
 philander along New Bond and gaze in the 
 shop windows, like a Cheshireman on his first 
 trip to town. You'll drink your Scotch and 
 avow that no whiskey ever tasted like it, know- 
 ing all the while that you've had the same stuff 
 every day since you left. You'll wear damn
 
 Auf Wiedersehen 279 
 
 fool lemon-yellow gloves, and have tea and but- 
 ter-bread at a dinky little table in the Cecil 
 courtyard, with a clumsy, senemic girl, and say 
 blase things, and wear a 'To-let' expression, 
 and seem bored to death, but your whole being 
 will be chortling with the joy of home. 
 
 "You'll get tangled up in an impossible fog, 
 and swear, and try to feel disgusted, but you 
 wouldn't trade that curtain of aerated mud for 
 the fairest morning that ever blushed over the 
 hills yonder. 
 
 "You'll drop in at Pagani's or Simpson's and 
 eat good beef and bad potatoes and an abomin- 
 able gooseberry tart, and you'll wash it all 
 down with lukewarm beer and wind up with 
 coffee that would make a Vienniese shudder, 
 but you'll lie yourself into the belief that it's 
 the first real food you've had in months. 
 
 "You'll take in the Empire Promenade, and 
 pick up some flat-chested little Cockney girl
 
 280 The Stolen Throne 
 
 from Tottingham Court Road. She'll be com- 
 moner than dishwater, sans h's and finesse, but 
 she's a part of London, and so you'll waste the 
 evening with her. 
 
 "She only loans us to the rest of the world, 
 does mother London, but she holds our hearts 
 and our memories in pledge, and sometimes we 
 die, but mostly we come home and reclaim 
 them." 
 
 "Burton," I sighed, "You don't know! One 
 can see that you have never been in love." 
 
 "A hundred times," he answered, "and each 
 time it was worse than before. This love busi- 
 ness travels on a geometrical ratio the last 
 i 
 
 case always carries the compounded interest of 
 the others. It's a fine thing for the heart, 
 though; exercises and strengthens it. The 
 throbs give the muscles plenty of play and de- 
 velopment It's like boxing; the harder you're 
 slugged, the easier you find it to stand up to the 
 next ripping smash."
 
 Auf Wiedersehen 2 8 1 
 
 He smiled at me, and patted me on my shoul- 
 der. Then his tone altered. 
 
 "I know you're hard hit, old chap, but you'll 
 pull through. It's the wisest thing in the world, 
 what you're doing. I am glad that you are leav- 
 ing. This pretender business put you into a 
 theatrical frame of mind, and your perspective 
 has been a bit sentimental, just now. When 
 you get away from the stage setting, you'll feel 
 like the actor after he leaves the playhouse be- 
 hind him glad to be real again. There, I 
 must be off! I'll see you awhile after lunch- 
 eon!" 
 
 When he left, I went to my room and got at 
 my packing. This was soon finished, and as 
 there were some trifles that I required for the 
 journey I went into town, but soon returned. 
 Passing into the house, I noted in a casual 
 manner that a brougham was drawn up at the 
 porte-cochere.
 
 282 The Stolen Throne 
 
 Alward, Burton's man, came to me in the 
 hall. 
 
 "A lady is waiting to see you, sir," he said, 
 and pointed to the drawing-room. 
 
 Handing him my hat and gloves, I drew 
 aside the draperies, and found a veiled woman 
 sitting with her back towards me. As she did 
 not turn at my entrance, I crossed to her and 
 asked to what I was indebted for the honor of 
 her presence. For answer she lifted her veil. 
 
 "Youl" I cried, and stood and stared. A 
 thousand speeches rushed to my lips and lost 
 themselves on the threshold of utterance. At 
 last my tardy senses regained their sanity, and 
 I knelt. But she took my hand and commanded 
 me to rise. 
 
 "You must not kneel to me," she said. "A 
 brave man should bend his knees to no one save 
 his God. I know all that you have done for me. 
 I realize my debt to you. Why did you leave 
 before I could come and acknowledge the obli-
 
 Auf Wiedersehen 283 
 
 gation ? It was a cruel thing. It has made me 
 suffer shame all these months. It is not the 
 Duchess of Stromburg who has come to you. 
 I have left the crown and the tinsel of state 
 back there on the throne with vanity and royal 
 pride. When I learned of your return I de- 
 termined to see you at once ; to come as women 
 come to men to whom they owe much. And 
 you must understand me so and forget who and 
 what I am." 
 
 "I cannot ever forget," I answered her, "nor 
 ever wish to, for I shall have this memory of 
 your graciousness, and I would again endure 
 all the unrequited love for the sake of this hour. 
 I shall be content to think that I have done a 
 -service to your cause and in that shall find my 
 happiness. I realize that you are as utterly be- 
 yond my arms as the highest star in Heaven, 
 but I have always loved you and always shall, 
 wherever I shall be, wherever you shall be." 
 
 "Ah!" and she looked away, "if I were a
 
 284 The Stolen Throne 
 
 man, and I loved, I would let nothing, nothing, 
 neither rank nor power, stand between me and 
 my heart's yearning. I would master circum- 
 stance, scale the mountains of privilege, be as 
 patient as the rocks, and only surrender to 
 death!" 
 
 "My Lady," I said, "there was a time when 
 I would have wrested the sceptre from your 
 hand and dragged you from the throne because 
 it would have brought you nearer to me, and 
 made me your peer. I would have humbled 
 you in the dust, and covered your heart with 
 bruises, so that I might come after and wash 
 away the hurt with my tears, and take away the 
 bruises with my kisses. I swore to God, and to 
 myself, that I would mount the throne of 
 Stromburg, and then lift you back beside me, 
 my Queen! I wanted power because power 
 meant you. It was always you. Nothing could 
 have stayed me. But it was a dream !"
 
 Auf Wiedersehen 285 
 
 "A dream!" was the murmured reply. 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because, without your love, there could be 
 nothing for me, and when I learned that your 
 love was given, I could only lay everything at 
 your feet, in token of my devotion, and go." 
 
 "Because you knew my love was given ?" she 
 repeated. "How did you know ?" 
 
 "I heard it from your lips, as you knelt in 
 prayer and cried out the truth to God !" 
 
 She buried her face in her hands, and her 
 form shook with emotion. The sight of her 
 pity cut me cruelly. But she soon mastered 
 herself and looked up with a strange smile. 
 
 "Dreams, dreams !" she murmured, and sang 
 to herself a snatch from a French chansonette: 
 "L' amour est un reve, 
 Et le reve c'est une rose" 
 
 I led her to the door and pressed her un- 
 gloved hand in parting. Then I conducted her 
 to her carriage.
 
 286 
 
 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "Good-bye, My Lady !" I whispered hoarsely. 
 
 "Is it not auf wiedersehenf" she queried, 
 smiling. But I turned away and would not 
 look back.
 
 The End 
 of the Dream
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 'The End of the Dream." 
 
 [HERE'S the frontier," pointed 
 Whitworth through the win- 
 dow. "See that tower rising 
 beyond the trees? You will 
 have to wait two hours there 
 for your connection. The hun- 
 dred and three miles of the great Stromburg 
 Railway system end at this junction, and so 
 do I. I don't know what we shall do to keep up 
 an interest in life after you are gone. You 
 have set such a ripping pace for events ! Need- 
 less to say, how much I shall miss you both. 
 
 "But you will come back again to see us in 
 the fall, when the hunting opens. I met a chap 
 last week who has an estate up in these moun- 
 tains. He tells me that it is teeming with deer, 
 and game and wild boar. He wants me to visit 
 him in October. I'll have him include you, if
 
 290 The Stolen Throne 
 
 you make up your minds to run over. His 
 preserves are near the Royal Forests. Gurtha 
 herself is an enthusiastic huntswoman. 
 
 "I once saw her take a boar, single-handed. 
 Dashed at him like a lancer, and caught him at 
 the first thrust. Still, he almost did for her. 
 It was like this. The tusker was an old brute 
 and as savage well, as a boar ! We found his 
 spoor early in the morning, but it was noon 
 before we came up to him. He had ripped two 
 of the hounds cruelly, and the rest of the pack 
 were pretty well cowed. Gurtha would have it 
 no other way, but that we should hold back 
 and let her take him alone. As I said, she 
 managed to stick him, but her lance cleft right 
 into his shoulder and stuck there, and as she 
 had taken him at full tilt, the impetus wrenched 
 her from the saddle and threw her right in his 
 track. Before we could reach the spot, she had 
 darted back of a tree, escaped his first rush, 
 and then, I'll be hanged if she didn't go for
 
 The End of the Dream 191 
 
 him on foot and finish him with the knife ! Oh, 
 she's thoroughbred! There isn't a yellow 
 streak in her nature. She fights for things and 
 she gets them. All heaven and hell can't make 
 her change, if she's determined on a thing. 
 Her father was such, before her. He might 
 have had the Roumanian throne, but he would 
 not marry the woman Russia picked out. He 
 found his wife among the people, and when the 
 Church began to talk morganatic rot, and the 
 flubdub of divine blood, there were strenuous 
 days in the clerical camp. They kicked like 
 mules and hawed about precedent. "Well," he 
 told them, "if you can't find a precedent for me, 
 I!ll make one for you." He won his point, lost 
 Roumania and found his happiness. Gurtha 
 is, to my mind, the ablest woman in Europe to- 
 day, as well as the most obstinate. Why, there 
 isn't a man on the Continent who could have 
 squelched last winter's treason as ably as she 
 dealt with it. I sometimes wonder what sort of
 
 The Stolen Throne 
 
 a marriage she'll make. They haven't been able 
 to please her up to now, although the royal hus- 
 band-market has offered pretty much its entire 
 assortment for her inspection." 
 
 The train had by this time snailed its way 
 into the terminal. "Be sure that you get every- 
 thing," warned Antsley. "What's that up in 
 the rack?" 
 
 "Doesn't belong to me," I answered. 
 
 "I'm sure it isn't mine," he said. "See what 
 it is!" 
 
 I took down the parcel. It was long and 
 light. To my utter surprise, my name was on 
 the wrapper. At that moment our porter came 
 and said that the inspector was ready to go 
 through our baggage. Beyond a few boxes of 
 matches and a flask of brandy, he found noth- 
 ing dutiable among my belongings, so I knelt to 
 lock my trunk, placing the unopened parcel on 
 top. 
 
 "Wfiat's this?" tKe official asked, taking it in
 
 The End of the Dream 293 
 
 his hands. He cut the strings and, removing 
 the paper, produced an exquisitely carved box. 
 Within lay a single rose. 
 
 "Ah!" he exclaimed, "it is from Marga's 
 Gardens. To-night all Stromburg will come 
 and gather such as this." 
 
 I strained the gorgeous thing to my nostrils. 
 Its fragrance was heavy with the spell of vis- 
 ions. I saw her again, twining roses in her 
 hair. She smiles upon me. She tears a bud 
 from out of the garland and tosses it to my 
 eager hands. She lies struggling in my arms, 
 and her lips are crushed to mine. 
 
 And now a year has gone, and to-night she 
 will come again, and I shall not be there to see 
 the glory of her loveliness. It has all been a 
 dream, this year in Stromburg, a dear, wild, 
 bitter-sweet whimsy. Still, this rose is no 
 fantasy. Whose hand has plucked and sent it 
 to me ? I examine the box and start. It bears 
 the royal arms. But what is this, nestling in
 
 294 The Stolen Throne 
 
 the petals of the flower? I draw forth a slip 
 of paper. It bears a verse : 
 
 He hurled the rose 
 The dragon paused 
 'Beside the River Sarga. 
 "What wilt, from me 
 "For this?" cried she. 
 "A kiss, my Lady Margaf" 
 
 Some one is calling to me, but I do not hear. 
 
 "Wake up ; stop dreaming !" 
 
 "Go away !" I cry ; "I don't want the dream 
 to stop." 
 
 "The train is going back to Stromburg, and 
 Whitworth wants to say good-bye." 
 
 "Back to Stromburg !" I murmur in a mist ; 
 "yes, that where I'm going !" 
 
 Some one tugs at my sleeve. 
 
 "So long, old chap ! I must dig for it, God 
 bless you, and come back soon I"
 
 The End of the Dream 295 
 
 Whitworth is on his way across tHe train- 
 shed. He darts into an open compartment. 
 The porter slams the door. The engine gives a 
 shriek. I take a firmer grasp upon the rose. 
 Its thorns press into my hands, but I do not 
 feel the pain. 
 
 One by one the doors are being locked. 
 
 "Wait !" I cry, and leap into a carriage. The 
 axles creak, the wheels grind ; some one, away 
 in the distance is calling my name and gesticu- 
 lating madly on the receding platform. I 
 smile. 
 
 I am going back to Stromburg, back without 
 Antsley without luggage. But I do not care. 
 I am going back with a rose. 
 
 The afternoon is soon gone. Dusk steals 
 over the fields. The green hills are blushed 
 with purple. Night is calling the stars to 
 awaken. One by one they fall into their setting. 
 The moon shifts out from a fluffy cloud and
 
 296 The Stolen Throne 
 
 sails a thousand miles across the heavens. The 
 Sarga ripples against her banks. Stromburg 
 sprawls out of the distance. 
 
 The axles creak. The wheels grind. The 
 door of my carriage is unlocked. A porter 
 asks for my luggage. I gravely tender him a 
 rose. 
 
 I rattle through the town, up the hillside, past 
 the Continental, out of the Square. The streets 
 are thronged. The crowd moves in one direc- 
 tion. It winds its way through the gates of a 
 garden. There is music and there is song, and 
 untold roses are baring their hearts for the 
 kiss of night. 
 
 But there are two roses, rarer than the keys 
 of heaven. One is red, and I hold it in my 
 hand. One is white, and the moon is fondling 
 her, in sheer joy of her beauty. 
 
 "The old dreams have come back !" I cry, and 
 fall upon the grass beside her. "Do you under-
 
 The End of the Dream 297 
 
 stand, you beautiful, wonderful woman, the old 
 dreams? Can you realize how like a goddess 
 you are to my eyes? The same light is on your 
 hair, the same unutterable loveliness is in your 
 face, and in the glow of your eyes is the spark 
 that lighted the eternal fires of love !" 
 
 She smiles. "Why, it's the troubadour come 
 back again. Where is your lute, and what new 
 songs have you learned in the year?" 
 
 "Lady, my lute is your heart," I answer, 
 "and the only song that I have learned, is the 
 first song that the first man sang to the first 
 woman, when God jewelled the first day '/ 
 love you!' ' 
 
 "A short refrain!" 
 
 "It never ends, and lovers find it ever new." 
 
 "Yet it lacks variety." 
 
 "Not so, for each time the heart hears it with 
 a different ear, and then forgets and strains 
 again to hear the ever unfamiliar melody."
 
 298 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "True, perhaps, for a day !" 
 
 "Love laughs at time." 
 
 "What if this lute, which you speak, is still 
 unstrung?" she questions. 
 
 "Turn your eyes to mine, and let me learn !" 
 I plead. 
 
 "What may you learn there ?" 
 
 "The song of your soul." 
 
 "Awhile ago you said it was my heart I" 
 
 "A woman's heart and soul are one." She 
 leans nearer, and lifts her face. "Read !" she 
 commands. 
 
 "I do not dare!" 
 
 "And, pray, why not?" 
 
 "For fear, that seeking heaven, I may ven- 
 ture hell!" 
 
 "I have heard there is no love in hell." 
 
 "No," I say, "there is only hell in love!" 
 
 "And where lies heaven?" 
 
 "Love is heaven."
 
 The End of the Dream 299 
 
 "Strange," she murmurs, "love is heaven, 
 and love is hell !" 
 
 "Just so," I answer, "love is heaven and 
 hell." 
 
 "But why do you fear to learn ?" 
 
 "Because," I whisper, "I would not 'waken 
 from the dream. Because to-night, I dare for- 
 get who you are. To-morrow the petals of my 
 hopes will fall and strew the ground, as all the 
 roses here. Now it will be harder. Could you 
 not have spared me this? I knew that it was 
 madness, but I came, and to-morrow I shall go, 
 and never, never see you again !" 
 
 "Love is a dream, and the dream is a rose !" 
 she murmurs to herself. 
 
 A youth comes into the moonlight and stops 
 before us. 
 
 "What shall I sing for you?" he asks. 
 
 "Of love and of roses," I answer. 
 
 "They are one," he laughs, and he fingers his 
 strings.
 
 300 The Stolen Throne 
 
 "Love is a flower, a passioned rose, 
 
 Trembling with the dew, 
 
 Sweet and fair, of fragrance rare, 
 
 That was the love I knew! 
 
 And so I made my heart a shrine, 
 
 To hold it dear fore f er, 
 
 For love is a rose, and the wide world knows 
 
 That the rose blossoms everywhere! 
 
 "But beware of the thorns of the rose. 
 
 Every rose has its thorn, 
 
 And love is a rose, 
 
 W 'hen its beauty. is gone, 
 
 Then its cruelty shows, 
 
 And it sinks in the heart. 
 
 Rends and tears it apart, 
 
 Oh, beware of the thorns of the rose!" 
 
 "Now you know why I would not look into 
 your eyes!" I whisper. She does not answer. 
 
 "Because," I continue, "I feared to seek the 
 rose and find the thorn!"
 
 The End of the Dream 301 
 
 "I prayed that God would take the bitterness 
 away," she whispers. "Now do you under- 
 stand now do you fear to know ?" 
 
 I draw her to me. "I want to see your eyes !" 
 
 Her face is near to mine, and her warm, 
 young breath is hot upon me. 
 
 "It is a dream," I murmur. 
 
 "It was never a dream !" she replies. 
 
 "And so you prayed for me!" I say, "and I 
 was there and did not know ! I heard you tell 
 your love, and my heart did not hear. I saw 
 the light in your eyes, and I was blind. When 
 did you know ?" 
 
 "Always!" is her reply. "For a year is 
 sometimes always, and it is now a year. I 
 sought to deny the truth, but my heart always 
 knew the lie. I tried to hate you, and when I 
 hurt you most, I loved you all the more. I 
 ; wished to forget, and only remembered. You 
 are the best and truest lover in the world! I 
 would be a thing to be despised did I deny you !
 
 302 The Stolen Throne 
 
 I would have a heart of stone had I closed my 
 breast to your devotion! I have tried you 
 cruelly, and I have heaped wrong, suffering 
 and insult on you, but you gave me love and de- 
 votion and sacrifice in return. Dear heart, 
 take me to you, and hold me, for I have been 
 lonely so long!" 
 
 A voice sings in the distance : 
 
 "Thus came the foyance of the rose, 
 
 Beside the River Sarga, 
 
 When royal miss a lout may kiss, 
 
 As once did Lady Marga, 
 
 And none may say 
 
 A word of nay, 
 
 For thus kissed Princess Marga!" 
 
 The singer stands before us as he ends, and 
 when he strikes the last chord, he bends and 
 gathers a handful of petals from the ground 
 and rains them upon our heads.
 
 The End of the Dream 
 
 303 
 
 "Kiss her, lad !" he cries, "Tis Lady Marga's 
 Day, and to-morrow you may not !" 
 But he does not know.
 
 A 000 1 1 1 1 52 5