"This is my revenge, Herr Fischer."

The words were spoken in an angry, taunting voice, quite loud enough for many people round us to hear, and they looked at us in the broadest astonishment.

They recalled my scattered wits.

"Captain von Krugen, what is the meaning of this?" I demanded in a quick, stern tone of the man who was staring in abject helpless bewilderment at the woman who had thus tricked us so cleverly.

"I am absolutely at a loss——" he began; but I cut him short.

"You have betrayed your trust, sir, and God alone knows what the consequences will be."

Meanwhile the cries for the Queen Minna were growing in volume and echoing all around us, and I saw the Baron Heckscher look across at me. The men about the throne had unmasked. I thought rapidly. It was no use wasting time in reproaching or abusing the woman who had fooled us. We were in a mess which might ruin not only my scheme, but the whole of us. While the people were still shouting for the Queen, I hurried back to where Praga was standing, and in a few words told him what had occurred.

"She is the devil. I feared something. I'll——"

"Don't waste time. We have one strong card yet, and must keep possession of it. You are still true to me?" I asked.

"As true as death, I'll show——"

"Then you must do this. Return at once to Friessen with all possible speed—you and Captain von Krugen. Take the duke away anywhere, and lodge him in a place of safety. If neither of you can think of a better place, carry him to Gramberg; but one of you will probably know of some place where he can be kept as a hostage. If I cannot hold him prisoner our last hope is gone."

"She will never say——"

"I trust no woman again in a thing of this sort. Put him where she cannot tell any one where he is. You will have to ride all the way, I expect. No matter. Take the best horses in the stables here and ride them to a standstill, if necessary. You must go at a hand-gallop the whole way: or perhaps you can get a special train to Spenitz. Anything, but for God's sake go—and at once. You can deal with the woman afterward."

I called up von Krugen, and gave him the hurried orders.

"Remember at any cost to keep him a prisoner, and let me know where he is."

These were my last words to the two, and spoken with almost fierce earnestness. As I turned from them I beckoned Steinitz to me.

"I am going to speak to that woman in a dark domino. When I leave her watch her as you would watch the devil, and let me know where she goes and to whom she speaks."

I went back to Clara Weylin.

"Will you give me an interview presently?" I asked, very quietly, adding significantly, "It will be safer."

"I am not afraid of you," she replied scornfully.

"It will be safer," I repeated.

"I don't wish to speak to you."

"It will be safer," I said for the third time; and then I crossed the room to where the men clustered about the throne were waiting for me.

"Where is the Countess Minna?" asked Baron Heckscher; and he could not restrain the evidence of his feeling of triumph.

"I regret that the Countess Minna von Gramberg is unable to be present. Baron Heckscher has known for some hours that this would be the case." I said this loudly enough for those about us to hear, and a glance into the man's face told me that he knew of my sudden disappointment, and was enjoying his triumph supremely. I kept out of my voice and manner all signs of alarm or anger, and added quietly to the baron, "You had better announce her indisposition, and stop this clamor."

On seeing me cross to the throne those who were leading the chorus took up the cry for Minna with redoubled energy.

"I will not answer for the effect of the disappointment," he said.

"Yet you will have to," said I, with a look he could not fail to understand.

"I don't understand you," he returned hotly.

"I will not fail to make my meaning quite plain," I retorted. "And you may not find the course so clear as you think."

"What message shall I have announced?"

"That the Countess Minna von Gramberg accepts the high mission to which she is called, but that to-night she is too unwell to be present," I answered; "and let the message be given at once."

"We can't do that," he replied, seeing my object—to bind him to this public acceptance of the throne by Minna. "She must be here in person to make that possible."

"If that is not done and at once," I cried, going close to him and speaking the words between my teeth, "I myself will proclaim the fact that the man who was here a minute since was not the King, but your dummy, and that the whole thing is a farce got up by you and these gentlemen. You will then have to bring back the King himself, and you can judge as well as I how he will view the acts that have been done here to-night, and reward the actors."

"You dare not play the traitor in that way!"

"Dare not? I dare do more than that," and I clipped my words short as I whispered them into his ear. "I dare stand up now and tell the whole story of your double treachery, for I know it all: and, by God! if you thwart me any farther I'll make my words good to the last letter."

I meant every syllable of the threat, and I made this perfectly plain in my manner. Whether the man was actually afraid for himself I know not; but he saw clearly enough that any such sensational statement made by me at that juncture would inevitably result in the complete overthrow of the scheme for which he had worked so hard.

"I don't affect to understand your meaning," he said; "but one way is as good as another to put an end to a scene that must be ended somehow."

"Then give the instructions, and let the people see that they come from you," and I drew back.

He called the man who had been acting as herald, and spoke to him in an undertone; and the latter was turning to the people when I interposed.

"As this is the first utterance from the Queen, you had better have the trumpeters call for silence, and let the herald end the declaration with the formal prayer, God save the Queen."

This was done, though the men round me frowned in angry dissent; and as soon as the announcement had been made the signal was given, the band struck up for the dancing to recommence, and the throng of people began to melt away from the dais on which we had all been collected.

So far, I felt I had done the best I could to repair the disconcerting smash-up of my plans, and already I had in my thoughts a rough idea of the line I would take later with the baron and his friends of the Ostenburg interest. They had outplayed me at my own game, and had dealt me a shrewd and clever stroke, which must have completely defeated me but for the fact that I had kidnapped their man, the Duke Marx. For the moment everything must yield to the necessity of keeping him secure, and thus for some hours at least I dared not say a word to let them know what I had done with him.

I calculated that von Krugen and Praga would take about five hours to get to the place where he was concealed, and they would need at least further four or five hours to get him to some other spot. That at the least. I had given them a difficult piece of work, but they were both resolute and indeed desperate men, and I had ample confidence that, given sufficient time, they would overcome the difficulty. It was now past midnight, and I reckoned, therefore, that I must hold my tongue about the duke until the following morning.

In the mean time I had the problem of Minna's whereabouts to solve. I must also ascertain whether the woman had told anything of the part which she and Praga had played together in getting hold of the duke.

I looked round the room in search of her, and, not seeing either her or Steinitz, I was moving off the dais to make a tour of the rooms to find her, when the two men Kummell and Beilager stopped me.

"You promised an explanation of your conduct," said the former in a curt, angry tone. "Be so good as to give it."

"You will have an ample explanation later, gentlemen. Matters of greater moment are pressing me now."

"Nothing could be of greater moment than the reason for the Countess Minna's non-appearance here to-night; for that statement about her indisposition was, of course, untrue."

"It was untrue, as you say. But until the whole matter can be told it is a waste of valuable time to discuss a small part of it," I answered coolly, although the insult in his tone and words was more than galling.

"I differ from you, and demand an explanation at once—or I shall draw my own conclusions."

"That is at your discretion. You have taken a course throughout this which makes you largely responsible for the result."

"Do you insinuate that we are in any way responsible for spiriting away the countess?" he asked hotly.

"I must decline to discuss this with you in your present frame of mind and temper. Your manner to me is an insinuation and an insult."

"You will have to discuss it all the same, or I will publicly insult you here, in the presence of the whole room."

The hot-headed fool was likely to spoil everything.

"That must also be as your indiscretion prompts you," I returned sharply. "If you think you will serve the interests of my family by wrangling here, and causing me to run you through the body afterward, take your own course. But you will do far better to keep a sharp watch on the man who has apparently been duping you—I mean Baron Heckscher—and try to thwart the deep scheme he has laid."

"I believe you to be a traitor; to have worked openly for the Countess Minna, and secretly to have intrigued against her; and that you have kept her out of the way purposely in the interests of the Ostenburg family. You are a spy; nothing better."

"And you are a foolish little man, whose sight is as short as your temper, and whose wits are as dull as your silly suspicions are keen. You are the dupe of the Baron Heckscher."

"You shall answer to me for this—or at least you should, if you were worthy of consideration."

He was so angry and excited that he could scarcely keep from striking, and this last insinuation of his had leapt out in his exasperation.

I had been expecting something of the kind, and it prepared me for the line which the rest would take later; but at that moment I caught sight of Steinitz, moving among the crowd in the distance, and I put an end to this altercation promptly.

"When you know the facts, sir, you will be far more ready to apologize to me than to challenge me. But if you should then wish this matter to go forward, you will not find me in the least unwilling."

I bowed ceremoniously and, putting on my mask again, hurried away after Steinitz.

It was quite clear now that these men had got hold of some tale from the two lawyers about me, and the baron was quite shrewd enough, in order to separate from me the only two men among the leaders who were really loyal to Minna, to turn it to good account by proclaiming me a spy in the Ostenburg interest.

It was an exceedingly plausible story to account for my having kept Minna out of the way. In the mean time my anxiety on her account was growing very keen, and had I not known that happily von Nauheim was laid by the heels and, as I sincerely hoped, badly hurt, I should have been desperate enough. As it was, however, I held a hostage for her safety, and I was eagerly impatient for the moment to come when I could show the baron the real strength of my position.

Steinitz pointed out to me the actress, who had thrown off her domino, and was standing in the middle of a group of men and women laughing and talking merrily. I shouldered my way among the promenading dancers to a spot near her, and then stood forward that she might see me. As soon as she caught sight of me she threw a glance of angry defiance in my direction, and, turning her back, recommenced her gay chatter with her companions. But I was in no mood to let her trifle with me nor to allow her to think she could treat me as she pleased. I went up and requested an immediate interview.

"Can't you see that I am engaged? My dance card is full," she replied, with supercilious nonchalance.

"The business that I have with you cannot wait," I said firmly. "And if you cannot give me a private interview, I shall be compelled to discuss it here and now in public."

She looked at me to see if I were in earnest, and apparently came to the conclusion that I was, for with an angry toss of the head she said:

"I can spare you three minutes until my next dance."

I led her to one of the many luxurious cosy corners of the place.

"You have taken a very bitter revenge, and a very cowardly one, for no real offence," I said. "Is your anger satisfied with the one stroke, or am I to look for another?"

"I warned you that you had made an enemy of me."

"And you have made the warning good. Have you done anything else? You know I refer to your work to-day at Friessen."

"If I can harm you I will."

"And Praga?"

"I hate you!" she cried, with intense bitterness.

"You have given ample proof of that. Have you betrayed him in regard to that affair of to-day?"

"I shall not tell you. Who are you that you should cross-question me in this manner? I am no servant of yours."

"Have you told the people for whom you have to-night tricked me that you have decoyed the Duke Marx into the hands of those who, if need be, will take his life?"

I struck home with this thrust; and she glanced about her in manifest alarm.

"Don't speak like that," she cried in a hurried whisper. "There is no fear of anything of that kind."

"You mistake," I answered shortly and sternly. "If anything happens to the girl whom you have betrayed to-night, the man whom you lured away will pay for it with his life; and I myself will explain every detail of your share in the matter."

It was a little cowardly to play on her fears in this way; but it was not my own safety—it was Minna's—I was fighting for.

The woman's agitation increased with each word.

"It must not be. It shall not be. You dare not," she cried.

"There is no dare not in schemes like these," I answered grimly.

"But I was promised there should be no violence."

"You had not then played us false and worn that domino."

"I will go at once and tell all I know," she exclaimed excitedly.

Good. She had not told.

"It is too late. You were the decoy, but the duke is now in the hands of my men, and no power on earth can save him if I but issue the order. Do you think I do my work so poorly as to leave him where you, or those whom you send, could find him?"

She sat, her fingers interlocked and her eyes staring in a fixed, set gaze of abject fright, while her breath came and went with quick catches of agitation.

"You have played the subtle part of double treachery, and you will find it deadly dangerous," I went on sternly.

It was necessary to frighten her thoroughly for the object I had, and I let a couple of minutes pass in silence, while this conviction of her danger forced itself home. Then I opened the door of relief.

"It rests with you to save his life, and your own, and Praga's," I said.

She was too panic-stricken to act, and the hope in her face at my words made me rejoice.

"Save the Countess Minna von Gramberg. Help me to find her."

The light died out as suddenly as it had come.

"I cannot. I know nothing of her whereabouts."

"Tell me all you know about this trick by which you personated her."

At that moment a man dressed as a Venetian gondolier approached to claim her for a dance.

"I must know everything at once," I whispered hurriedly. "You must refuse him."

It was a test of my power. If she went off to dance I should accept it as a sign of defeat.

"I must not refuse. I dare not," she said nervously.

"You understand what it means," I replied in the same undertone.

The man came up, and the nervous movements of my companion's fingers showed me something of her agitation.

"This is our dance, I think," he murmured, bowing.

"Yes, I—yes, it is," and she half rose from her seat, but then sank back again. "But I am not quite well enough to dance. I am sitting here for the cooler air. Please excuse me."

"Permit me to sit it out with you then," he said, and he turned toward me as if expecting me to give way.

I did not budge, of course, but stared out in front of me as if I had not seen his look.

"I am sorry, but—a friend has—has brought me some important—news, and it has distressed me—and I wish to continue the conversation."

It was as clumsy an excuse as any child in her teens could have mumbled out, and given in a manner altogether unlike her own. But fortunately the man took umbrage at the obvious slight, and with a stiff bow went off.

I had won again.

"Now you can tell me all you know."

"Wait a moment. Let me be quiet, or I shall faint."

She was now trembling violently, and I sat waiting until she should have recovered her self-composure sufficiently to tell me the news I was burning to learn.