How was he to find the courage to impart the appalling news to her? He was now convinced beyond all doubt that the so-called Sprouse had made off with the priceless treasure and that only a miracle could bring about its recovery. O'Dowd's estimate of the man's cleverness was amply supported by what Barnes knew of him. He knew him to be the personification of craftiness, and of daring. It was not surprising that he had been tricked by this devil's own genius. He recalled his admiration, his wonder over the man's artfulness; he groaned as he thought of the pride he had felt in being accorded the privilege of helping him!

Sitting glumly in a corner of the tap-room, watching but not listening to the spouting Mr. Rushcroft, (who was regaling the cellarer and two vastly impressed countrymen with the story of his appearance before Queen Victoria and the Royal Family), Barnes went over the events of the past twenty-four hours, deriving from his reflections a few fairly reasonable deductions as to his place in the plans of the dauntless Mr. Sprouse.

In the first place, Sprouse, being aware of his somewhat ardent interest in the fair captive, took a long and desperate chance on his susceptibility. With incomprehensible boldness he decided to make an accomplice of the eager and unsuspecting knight-errant! His cunningly devised tale,—in which there was more than a little of the truth,—served to excite the interest and ultimately to win the co-operation of the New Yorker. His object in enlisting this support was now perfectly clear to the victim of his duplicity. Barnes had admitted that he was bound by a promise to aid the prisoner in an effort to escape from the house; even a slow-witted person would have reached the conclusion that a partial understanding at least existed between captive and champion. Sprouse staked everything on that conviction. Through Barnes he counted on effecting an entrance to the almost hermetically sealed house.

Evidently the simplest, and perhaps the only, means of gaining admission was through the very window he was supposed to guard. Once inside her room, with the aid and connivance of one in whom the occupant placed the utmost confidence, he would be in a position to employ his marvellous talents in accomplishing his own peculiar ends.

Barnes recalled all of the elaborate details preliminary to the actual performance of that amazing feat, and realised to what extent he had been shaped into a tool to be used by the master craftsman. He saw through the whole Machiavellian scheme, and he was now morally certain that Sprouse would have sacrificed him without the slightest hesitation.

In the event that anything went wrong with their enterprise, the man would have shot him dead and earned the gratitude and commendation of his associates! There would be no one to question him, no one to say that he had failed in the duty set upon him by the master of the house. He would have been glorified and not crucified by his friends.

Up to the point when he actually passed through the window Sprouse could have justified himself by shooting the would-be rescuer. Up to that point, Barnes was of inestimable value to him; after that,—well, he had proved that he was capable of taking care of himself.

Mr. Dillingford came and pronounced sentence. He informed the rueful thinker that the young lady wanted to see him at once in Miss Thackeray's room.

With a heavy heart he mounted the stairs. At the top he paused to deliberate. Would it not be better to keep her in ignorance? What was to be gained by revealing to her the—But Miss Thackeray was luring him on to destruction. She stood outside the door and beckoned. That in itself was ominous. Why should she wriggle a forefinger at him instead of calling out in her usual free-and-easy manner? There was foreboding—

"Is Mr. Barnes coming?" His heart bounded perceptibly at the sound of that soft, eager voice from the interior of the room.

"By fits and starts," said Miss Thackeray critically. "Yes, he has started again."

She closed the door from the outside, and Barnes was alone with the cousin of kings and queens and princes.

"I feared you had deserted me," she said, holding out her hand to him as he strode across the room. S he did not rise from the chair in which she was seated by the window. The lower wings of the old-fashioned shutters were closed except for a narrow strip; light streamed down upon her wavy golden hair from the upper half of the casement. She was attired in a gorgeously flowered dressing-gown; he had seen it once before, draping the matutinal figure of Miss Thackeray as she glided through the hall with a breakfast tray which Miss Tilly had flatly refused to carry to her room: being no servant, she declared with heat.

"I saw no occasion to disturb your rest," he mumbled. "Nothing—nothing new has turned up."

"I have been peeping," she said, looking at him searchingly. A little line of anxiety lay between her eyes. "Where is Mr. Loeb going, Mr. Barnes?"

He noted the omission of Mr. O'Dowd. "To Hornville, I believe. They stopped for gasoline."

"Is he running away?" was her disconcerting question.

"O'Dowd says he is to be gone for a few days on business," he equivocated.

"He will not return," she said quietly. "He is a coward at heart. Oh, I know him well," she went on, scorn in her voice.

"Was I wrong in not trying to stop him?" he asked.

She pondered this for a moment. "No," she said, but he caught the dubious note in her voice. "It is just as well, perhaps, that he should disappear. Nothing is to be gained now by his seizure. Next week, yes; but to-day, no. His flight to-day spares—but we are more interested in the man Sprouse. Has he returned?"

"No, Miss Cameron," said he ruefully. And then, without a single reservation, he laid bare the story of Sprouse's defection. When he inquired if she had heard of the man known as Chester Naismith, she confirmed his worst fears by describing him as the guard who watched beneath her window. He was known to her as a thief of international fame. The light died out of her lovely eyes as the truth dawned upon her; her lips trembled, her shoulders drooped.

"What a fool I've been," she mourned. "What a fool I was to accept the responsibility of—"

"Don't blame yourself," he implored. "Blame me. I am the fool, the stupidest fool that ever lived. He played with me as if I were the simplest child."

"Ah, my friend, why do you say that? Played with you? He has tricked some of the shrewdest men in the world. There are no simple children at Green Fancy. They are men with the brains of foxes and the hearts of wolves. To deceive you was child's play. You are an honest man. It is always the honest man who is the victim; he is never the culprit. If honest men were as smart as the corrupt ones, Mr. Barnes, there would be no such thing as crime. If the honest man kept one hand on his purse and the other on his revolver, he would be more than a match for the thief. You were no match for Chester Naismith. Do not look so glum. The shrewdest police officers in Europe have never been able to cope with him. Why should you despair?"

He sprang to his feet. "By gad, he hasn't got away with it yet," he grated. "He is only one man against a million. I will set every cog in the entire police and detective machinery of the United States going. He cannot escape. They will run him to earth before—"

"Mr. Barnes, I have no words to express my gratitude to you for all that you have done and all that you still would do," she interrupted. "I may prove it to you, however, by advising you to abandon all efforts to help me from now on. You did all that you set out to do, and I must ask no more of you. You risked your life to save a woman who, for all you know, may be deceiving you with—"

"I have not lost all of my senses, Miss Cameron," he said bluntly. "The few that I retain make me your slave. I shall abandon neither you nor the effort to recover what my stupidity has cost you. I will run this scoundrel down if I have to devote the remainder of my life to the task."

She sighed. "Alas, I fear that I shall have to tell you a little more about this wonderful man you know as Sprouse. Six months ago the friends and supporters of the legitimate successor to my country's throne, consummated a plan whereby the crown jewels and certain documents of state were surreptitiously removed from the palace vaults. The act, though meant to be a loyal and worthy one, was nevertheless nullified by the most stupendous folly. Instead of depositing the treasure in Paris, it was sent to this country in charge of a group of men whose fealty could not be questioned. I am not at liberty to tell you how this treasure was brought into the United States without detection by the Customs authorities. Suffice it to say, it was delivered safely to a committee of my countrymen in New York. There are two contenders for the throne in my land. One is a prisoner in Austria, the other is at liberty somewhere in—in the world. The Teutonic Allies are now in possession of my country. It has been ravished and despoiled."

"So far Sprouse's story jibes," said he, as she paused.

"My countrymen conceived the notion that Germany would one day conquer France and over-run England. It was this notion that urged them to put the treasure beyond all possible chance of its being seized by the conquerors and turned over to the usurping prince who would be placed on our throne.

"As for my part in this unhappy project, it is quite simple. I was not the only one to be deceived by plotters who far outstripped the original conspirators in cleverness and guile. The man you know as Loeb is in reality my cousin. I have known him all my life. He is the youngest brother of the pretender to the throne, and a cousin of the prince who is held prisoner by the Austrians. This prince has a brother also, and it was to him that I was supposed to deliver the jewels. He came to Canada a month ago, sent by the embassy in Paris. I travelled from New York, but not alone as you may suspect. I was carefully protected from the time I left my hotel there until—well, until I arrived in Boston.

"While there I received a secret message from friends in Canada directing me to go to Spanish Falls, where I would be met and conducted to Green Fancy by Prince Sebastian himself. I was on my way to Halifax when this message changed my plans. Moreover, the reason given for this change was an excellent one. It had been discovered that the two men who acted secretly as my escort were traitors. They were to lead me into a trap prepared at Portland, where I was to be robbed and detained long enough for the wretches to make off in safety with their booty. I need not describe my feelings. I obeyed the directions and stole away at night, eluding my protectors, and came by devious ways to the place mentioned in the message.

"As you may have guessed by this time, the whole thing was a carefully planned ruse. The company at Green Fancy,—you may some day know why they were there,—learned through the man Naismith that the treasure had been entrusted to me for delivery to Prince Sebastian and his friends in Halifax. Let me interrupt myself to explain why the Prince did not come to New York in person, instead of arranging to have the jewels taken to him at Halifax. He is an officer of high rank in the army. His trip across the ocean was known to the German secret service. The instant he landed on American soil, a demand would have been made by the German Embassy for his detention here for the duration of the war.

"I was informed in the message that Prince Sebastian would take me to the place called Green Fancy, which was near the Canadian border. A safe escort would be provided for us, and we would be on British soil within a few hours after our meeting. It is only necessary to add that when I arrived at Green Fancy I met Prince Ugo,—and understood! I had carefully covered my tracks after leaving Boston. My real friends were, and still are, completely in the dark as to my movements, so skilfully was the trick managed. I shall ask you directly, Mr. Barnes, to wire my friends in New York and in Halifax, acquainting them with my present whereabouts and safety. Now, that we know the jewels have been stolen again, that message need not be delayed.

"And now for Chester Naismith. It was he who, acting for the misguided loyalists and recommended by certain young aristocrats who by virtue of their own dissipations had come to know him as a man of infinite resourcefulness and daring, planned and carried out the pillaging of the palace vaults. Almost under the noses of the foreign guards he succeeded in obtaining the jewels. No doubt he could have made off with them at that time, but he shrewdly preferred to have them brought to America by some one else. It would have been impossible for him to dispose of them in Europe. The United States was the only place in the world where he could have sold them. You see how cunning he is?

"This much I know: he came to New York with the men who carried the jewels. He tried to rob them in New York but failed. Then he disappeared. So carefully guarded were the jewels that he knew there was no chance of securing them without assistance. For nearly six months they remained in a safety vault on Fifth Avenue. Evidently he gave up hope and, falling in with Prince Ugo, joined his party. I do not know this to be the case, but I am now convinced that he learned of the plan to send the jewels to Halifax. It was he, I am sure, who conveyed this news to Prince Ugo, who at once invented the scheme to divert me to this place.

"And now comes the remarkable part of the story. When I arrived at Spanish Falls, there was no one to meet me. The agent, seeing me on the platform and evidently at a loss which way to turn, accosted me. He offered to secure a conveyance for me, and was very considerate, but I decided to call up Green Fancy on the telephone. I wanted to be sure that there was no trick. To my surprise, O'Dowd came to the telephone. I was greatly relieved when I actually heard his voice. I have known him for years, and the belief that he had at last allied himself with Prince Sebastian,—after being on the opposite side, you see,—was cause for rejoicing.

"He was amazed. It seems that I was not expected until the next afternoon. The car was out on an errand to some little village in the mountains, he said, but he would telephone at once to see if it could be located. Afterwards it turned out that the message announcing my arrival a day ahead of the time agreed upon was never delivered."

"Sprouse's fine work, I suppose," put in Barnes.

"I haven't the remotest doubt. Nor do I doubt that he intended to waylay me at some point along the road. O'Dowd failed to catch the car at the village and was on the point of starting off on horseback to meet me, when it returned. He sent it ahead and followed on horseback. You know how I was picked up at the cross-roads. It is all so like one of those picture puzzles. By putting the meaningless pieces together one obtains a complete design. The last piece to go into this puzzle is the mishap that befell Naismith on that very afternoon. He was no doubt thwarted in his design to waylay me on the road from Spanish Falls by a singular occurrence in this tavern. He was attacked in his room here shortly after the noon hour, overpowered, bound and gagged by two men. They carried him to another room, where he remained until late in the night when he managed to extricate himself. I have reason to believe that this part of his story is true. He knew the men. They were thieves as clever and as merciless as himself. They too were watching for me. I may say to you now, Mr. Barnes, that he has never posed as an honest man among his associates at Green Fancy. He glories in his fame as a thief, but until now no one would have questioned his loyalty to his friends. I do not know how these men learned of my intention to come to Green Fancy. They—"

"They came to this tavern four or five days in advance of your arrival at Green Fancy," he interrupted.

"Are you sure?" she asked in surprise.

"Absolutely."

"In that case, they could not have known," she said, deeply perplexed.

"Sprouse told me that they were secret service men from abroad and that he was working with them. Putnam Jones, I am sure, believes that they were detectives. He also believes the same to be true of Sprouse. My theory is this, and I think it is justified by events. The men were really secret agents, sent here to watch the movements of the gang up there. They came upon Sprouse and recognised him. On the day mentioned they overpowered him and forced him to reveal certain facts connected with affairs at Green Fancy. Possibly he led them to believe that you were one of the conspirators. They waited for your arrival and then risked the hazardous trip to Green Fancy. They were discovered and shot."

She could hardly wait for him to finish. "I believe you are right," she cried. "A little while before the shooting occurred, the house was roused by a telephone call. I was in my room, but not asleep. I had just realised my own dreadful predicament. There was a great commotion downstairs, and I distinctly heard some one say, in my own language, that they were not to get away alive. It must have been Naismith who telephoned. One of the men, I have been told, was killed not far from our gates. He was shot, I am sure, by the man called Nicholas, noted as one of the most marvellous marksmen in our little army. The other was accounted for by Naismith himself, who had managed to reach the cross-roads in time to head him off. Naismith openly boasted of the feat. The greatest consternation prevailed at Green Fancy because the men succeeded in reaching the highway before they were shot. Prince Ugo was distracted. He said that the attention of the public would be directed to Green Fancy and curious investigators were certain to interfere with the great project he was carrying on."

"I believe we have accounted for Mr. Sprouse, and I am no longer interested in the unravelling of the mystery surrounding the deaths of Roon and Paul," said he. "There is nothing to keep me here any longer, Miss Cameron. I suggest that you allow me to escort you at once to your friends, wherever they—"

She was opposed to this plan. While there was still a chance that Sprouse might be apprehended in the neighbourhood, or the possibility of his being caught by the relentless pursuers, she declined to leave.

"Then, I shall also stay," said he promptly, and was repaid by the tremulous smile she gave him. His heart was beating like mad, and he knew, in that instant, just what had happened to him. He was helplessly in love with this beautiful cousin of kings and queens. And when he thought of kings and queens he realised that beyond all question his love was hopeless.

"You are very good to me," she said softly.

He got up suddenly and walked away. After a moment, in which he regained control of himself, he returned to her side.

"What effect will Mr. Loeb's flight have on the scheme up there, Miss Cameron?" he inquired, quite steadily.

"They will scatter to the four winds, those people," she said. "He would not have fled unless disaster was staring him in the face. Something has transpired to defeat his ugly plan. They will all run to cover like so many rats."

"The government of the United States is a good rat-catcher," he said.

"The United States would do well to keep the rats out, Mr. Barnes, instead of allowing them to come here and thrive and multiply and gnaw into its very vitals."