The ten minutes became half-an-hour. Domiloff at last lost patience and knocked at the door. Brand, who had just finished a shorthand copy of the treaty, and had tucked it within the inner sole of his boot, realized the fact that he had reached the end of his tether.

“Come in,” he called out cheerfully.

Domiloff entered and closed the door behind him.

“I cannot understand your Highness’s indecision,” he said, impatiently. “The document which I have had the honour to submit for your approval is one of the most simple and straightforward which was ever written. And while you hesitate, Prince, your kingdom passes away. Every moment affairs in the capital draw nearer to a crisis.”

Brand leaned back in his chair. He looked no longer at the manuscript. It was evident that his decision was taken.

“It seems to me,” he said, quietly, “that my kingdom passes away none the less surely when I sign this paper. Your terms, Baron Domiloff, amount to a Russian Protectorate. Our trade is to be yours, and yours only. Russian is to be taught in our schools, and Russians are to control our army and our customs. What will Theos gain in return for this?”

“Her independence will be guaranteed. Russia will be her faithful friend!”

“Her independence!” Brand smiled. “Her independence will be rather a tattered garment.”

Domiloff shrugged his shoulders.

“Prince,” he said, “you scarcely yet know the nature of your inheritance. Theos is a small, weak State, hemmed in with powerful nations. One of the Powers must needs to be her protector. Russia, ever generous, offers herself. Without her aid you could not hold your kingdom for an hour.”

Brand sighed.

“Well,” he said, slowly, “supposing I agree—will you tell me this? How can I sign a treaty before I am King?”

Domiloff touched the paper with his forefinger.

“That has been provided for,” he said. “What you will sign is a promise to ratify the treaty on your accession to the throne.”

Brand shook his head.

“As a private individual,” he said, “my signature is worth nothing. Further, I decline to sign a paper which might at any future time be brought up against me, and cost me the respect and allegiance of my people.”

Domiloff looked anxious. A moment ago the affair had seemed settled.

“What do you propose, then?” he asked.

“I will swear upon my honour,” Brand said, “and before witnesses if you desire it, that I will sign the treaty whenever you require it after my accession to the throne.”

Domiloff hesitated, made up his mind to yield, and yielded gracefully.

“It is sufficient,” he declared. “The honour of the House of Tyrnaus has never been questioned. But there is one more promise which I must ask you to add. The Governor of the Customs, in whose house we now are, has acted as a patriot and a wise man in conjunction with me.”

“I understand,” Brand said, with a quiet smile. “He shall be held harmless, so far as I am concerned.”

Domiloff vanished for a moment, and reappeared followed by a soldierly-looking young man in dark blue uniform of decidedly Russian appearance, and an olive-skinned, black-bearded civilian, with shifty eyes and nervous manner. They both bowed low before Brand, who drew himself up to his full height and eyed them scornfully.

“These are your witnesses, Baron?” he asked Domiloff.

Domiloff assented.

“Captain Barka,” he said, “who is in command of the barracks here, is one of the most gallant and faithful officers in the army of Theos. Mr. Omardine is Governor of the Customs, and a civic magistrate.”

Brand regarded them coldly.

“You are here,” he said, “to listen to these words of mine. On the sacred honour of the House of Tyrnaus, and before the God of Theos, I swear that whenever I may be asked after my accession to the throne of this country, I will sign the treaty which I hold now in my right hand. And further, I swear not to divest of his office or punish in any way for their treachery, Captain Barka or Mr. Omardine, your two witnesses.”

The two men started. Omardine turned pale and glanced at Domiloff with furtive eyes. Barka laid his hand for a moment upon the hilt of his sword, and the deep colour dyed his cheeks. Domiloff stepped hastily forward.

“It is sufficient, your Highness,” he said; “but I must protest against the word ‘treachery’ being used as applying to either of these gentlemen. They have simply studied the best interests of their country in recognizing that her destiny is identical with that of Russia.”

Brand turned his back upon them.

“So far as their safety is concerned,” he said, “I have passed my word. My opinions are my own. Will you tell me, Baron, at what time you propose to release me?”

“If your Highness will accept my escort,” Domiloff said, “I propose to leave for the capital at once.”

“The sooner the better,” Brand declared.

“Then there remains only for your Highness to put on the uniform which I have sent for,” Domiloff remarked, touching the bell.

“What uniform?” asked Brand, quickly.

“The uniform of a Colonel in the Guards of Theos,” Domiloff answered. “Here it is.”

A servant entered, carrying a suit of gorgeous light blue and white uniform. Barka and Omardine respectfully withdrew.

“I see no need at all for me to wear these things,” Brand exclaimed, glancing in bewilderment at the many trappings and strange fastenings. “I will go as I am. There will be plenty of time afterwards for this sort of thing.”

“It is impossible,” Domiloff interrupted. “Your Highness seems to forget that your throne has yet to be won. The people have had enough of civilians. You must appear before them as a soldier, and they will shout you King till their throats are hoarse and the water stands in their eyes. They are a dramatic people, lovers of effect. They must be taken by storm. I cannot offer your Highness a valet, but perhaps I can be of assistance.”

Brand yielded, but not without secret misgivings. With his clothes a certain part of his easy confidence departed. His share in the game was no longer to be a purely passive one. With the donning of this uniform to which he had no manner of claim he entered the lists of intrigues boldly, as an impostor and masquerader. Under certain circumstances the way out might be difficult.

Domiloff watched him make his toilet with a certain curiosity. It was odd that a military man should be so much embarrassed by buckles and straps, yet when all was completed he was bound to admit that the result was satisfactory enough. Brand was a good-looking fellow, and he looked the part.

“Your Highness will be so good now as to follow me,” Domiloff directed. “A carriage is waiting to take us to the station.”

A guard of honour surrounded the open landau, whose military salute Brand gravely returned. The news of his arrival had quickly spread. The country people thronged around, shouting and cheering. The air was rent with strange, barbaric cries. Their short drive to the railway station was a triumphal progress. Brand alone was wholly uncomfortable. Surely amongst all this press of people there would be some one to whom Prince Ughtred was known. They reached the station, however, without incident, and amidst ever-increasing enthusiasm. A handsome saloon was drawn up to the carpeted platform, and a cordon of soldiers kept the station clear. In less than five minutes they were off.

Brand unbuckled his sword, and threw his helmet up in the rack. Then he made himself comfortable in an easy-chair, ostensibly to sleep, in reality to think out the situation.

“How long will it take us to reach the capital?” he asked.

“Two hours,” Domiloff answered. “Sleep for a time if you like. You may make yourself quite easy. My arrangements for your reception are complete. You will receive a tremendous ovation. The news of your coming has electrified the city.”

Brand’s gratification at the prospect was certainly not apparent. However, he closed his eyes, and relapsed into thought. Two hours! He reckoned it all out. His knowledge of the geography of the country was slight, but it seemed to him impossible that Prince Ughtred and Reist could yet have reached the capital. So far all that he had done had been good. The difficulty which confronted him now was to select the proper moment for his avowal, and, having made it, to escape. He foresaw difficulties. Domiloff was not a man to be made a fool of lightly. His one comforting reflection was that when the explosion did come he would be safer in Theos than in a frontier town which was obviously under Russian influence.

Slowly the train wound its way across a rocky and difficult country, a country of mountains, woods, and rivers, valleys rich with corn-tracts, tiny villages whose gleaming white homesteads made picturesque many a hillside. Brand sat quite still with half-closed eyes. Presently the door of the saloon opened, and closed again softly. Domiloff looked in and withdrew. Then there came the sound of voices from the next compartment. Listening intently, Bland caught a word or two here and there.

“Absolutely impossible.... I saw him in Paris after the Algerian campaign ... thinner, that is all.... Reist and the English journalist were simply left ... plantÉ lÀ. Hernoff planned everything.”

“Mistakes.... He does not make mistakes. If I believed it I would shoot him like a dog. You have your revolver, too. Good! Oh, yes, he will sign! It will be a record reign. It may last a month. They will see that he is under the thumb of Russia. No, he is fast asleep. After Hernoff’s medicine one is sleepy for days.”

The voices died away. They passed through a little wayside station gay with flags, and the train began to descend a series of gradients. Below was a great fruitful plain, bounded southwards by a range of towering mountains. Far away westwards was a huge ascent to a wide-spreading table-land. Brand sat with his eyes fixed steadily upon it, and a queer little smile upon his lips. He was sufficiently aware of his surroundings to know that there was the fortress capital of Theos.

He heard footsteps, and closed his eyes again. Domiloff entered the saloon, and shook him by the arm. He awoke with a drowsy murmur.

“Wake up, your Highness! We are within a few miles of the capital.”

Brand sat up.

“All right,” he said. “I am ready. But how my head aches.”

Domiloff smiled grimly, and thrust a sheet of paper into his hand.

“It will pass off,” he said. “See, this is your speech. Learn it. It will not be wise for you to address the people in any save their own language.”

Brand took the sheet of unintelligible characters into his own hand. He looked blankly at it.

“Read it to me,” he said. “Let me hear how it sounds.”

Domiloff declaimed and translated it. Brand listened thoughtfully. Apparently the return of Ughtred of Tyrnaus to the throne of his forefathers was solely owing to a benevolent desire on the part of Russia to bring to Theos an era of unparalleled peace and prosperity. Far away a gleam of white and grey towers flashed upon the hillside. Villages became more plentiful. They were nearing the capital.