It seemed to Reist that this was the supreme moment of his indignity. He stood before the two men, white-faced, hollow-eyed, speechless. And Marie, who had joined their councils, watched him anxiously.

“Nicholas,” she said, “this may sound to you a terrible thing. Indeed, I myself wish that there were another way. But there are many things to be considered. It will save bloodshed, and it will end the war. With Theos lost, Ughtred and the Solika army must surrender. After that——”

“Aye, after that,” Reist interrupted, fiercely. “Let me hear what Domiloff has to say. After that!”

“The rest is simplicity itself,” Domiloff said, coolly. “A meeting of the House of Laws shall be called, and the Turkish army shall be withdrawn across the frontier. Sentence of banishment shall be passed upon Ughtred of Tyrnaus, and you, Nicholas of Reist, shall be proclaimed King. Then there shall be peace in Theos—peace, and I hope, prosperity. We have gone over all this before, Reist. You must trust us. Our alliance is useless if every few minutes you lose faith.”

“A passive treason was all that I promised,” Reist said. “I undertook to break with the King, to give up my command in the army, and remain here. Nothing more! Surely that is enough for my share!”

“Under ordinary circumstances it would have been enough,” Hassen said, “but in one or two instances the unexpected has intervened. This Englishman, whom you all seemed to have welcomed amongst you, has been indeed a firebrand. His letters have been read everywhere. In England they have done terrible mischief. In Germany, too, they have made trouble. We have therefore to end this matter swiftly—with one coup. We cannot now wait for the inevitable end. From your point of view, Duke, surely this is better so. The prosecution of this war would simply mean a devastated and depopulated Theos. Unless Ughtred of Tyrnaus surrendered quickly the bloodshed would be terrible, the end of course certain. Surely what we propose is the better way. You, Duke of Reist, who are a Thetian and a patriot, must——”

“Stop!”

A sudden fire burst in Reist’s dark eyes, the deep colour rushed into his cheeks. There was a breathless silence in the little room.

“Not that word,” he said, slowly. “For God’s sake not that word. I do not know what I am, or what men will call me when these terrible days have passed away. But the patriots are those who wait with Ughtred of Tyrnaus to give their lives for their country, those whose swords are unsheathed, and whose heart is stout for battle. I, who spend my gloomy days here, striving to keep the sound of those guns from my ears, skulking in the shadows, afraid even to show my face at the window—I am no patriot.”

“The Duke of Reist does himself an injustice,” Domiloff said, softly. “It is physical courage which fills a man’s heart with the desire to fight—a greater thing than this is the moral courage which keeps a brave man inactive when he knows in his heart that inaction is best for his country.”

“Oh, you are a subtle reasoner, Domiloff,” Reist said, bitterly. “I cannot argue with you. Only I know that all Theos is standing sword in hand before our ancient enemies, and I am here. The weariness of it is intolerable.”

“It is the nerves, my friend,” Domiloff answered, cheerfully. “You need a good gallop, a little of this stinging air. Well, what we need of you is action, is it not?—and there is danger too.”

“It goes beyond our bargain,” Reist answered, in an agitated tone. “Once I never dreamed that you, Hassen, would pass the threshold of my door and leave it alive. As for such a thing as you ask—oh, I am not Judas enough for that.”

“Nicholas,” his sister said, quickly, “can you not see that it is a great deed. Think how many lives you will save. In years to come every woman of Theos who sees her husband by her side will remember that you were his preserver. Besides, it is too late now for hesitation. We have chosen our side, and we must work for our cause.”

Domiloff nodded.

“The Countess is right,” he said. “Do as we ask, Nicholas of Reist, and in a fortnight’s time there will be no war or sign of war, and the people shall know to whom they owe their deliverance.”

Reist smiled bitterly.

“My people,” he said, “will never overwhelm me with gratitude. You do not know them as I do. A true Thetian would love best the man who led them into the jaws of death to fight for his liberty, even though the fight were in vain, than the man who made all things smooth and happy for him by skulking within four walls and intriguing with such men as you, Domiloff.”

Hassen turned impatiently away.

“My friend,” he said to Domiloff, “we waste our time here. Theos must take its chance. I am not disposed to wait any longer for the Duke of Reist’s answer.”

“Then you shall have it now,” Reist said, facing them with a momentary reassertion of his old self. “I accept. In an hour I will ride out to Solika. But I shall do this thing my own way. Tell me only how I can communicate with you at Althea.”

“It is easy,” Hassen exclaimed. “I will explain.”

He drew Reist on one side. The Countess and Domiloff exchanged quick glances. Then there came suddenly from below the sound of a measured tramping of feet in the square, halting before the great mail-studded door. Marie moved swiftly to the window.

“It is Ruttens,” she announced, hurriedly, “the temporary commander of police. He has forty or fifty men with him, and they have formed a cordon around the door.”

Hassen’s hand flew to his sword. He looked towards Domiloff.

“What does this mean?” he exclaimed. “Have we been betrayed, Domiloff?”

“It is not you they seek,” he said. “Reist, find out what they want.”

There was the sound of heavy footsteps upon the stairs. Marie sprang towards the door, but she was too late. A servant had already thrown it open.

“Colonel Ruttens,” he announced.

Domiloff, already stealing to the furthermost corner of the room, which was a large one, extinguished the solitary lamp and plunged the whole place into comparative darkness. Ruttens paused a few yards from the threshold and peered around him.

“Is the Duke of Reist here?” he asked.

Nicholas struck a match and lit a solitary candle. Its feeble flame did little more than reveal his own pale face.

“Here I am, Colonel Ruttens. What do you want with me?”

Colonel Ruttens saluted.

“With you—nothing, Duke,” he answered. “Nothing, save your help, that is, in arresting a miscreant.”

“Who is he?” Reist asked.

“The Baron Domiloff.”

“He is a Russian subject,” Reist said, slowly.

“I have a warrant for his arrest signed by the King,” Ruttens answered. “Russian or no Russian he has been guilty of inciting to treason, of conspiring to bring a regiment of Cossacks into the city, and of using firearms in the street. Apart from which his very presence in the city is an offence, as he was banished by the King some time ago.”

“And why do you come to me?” Reist asked.

“Because Baron Domiloff is at present in this house,” Ruttens answered. “My men have surrounded it, and I have come first to you, Duke. I call upon you, as a loyal Thetian, to aid me in making this arrest.”

“What right have you to assume that I should give shelter to Baron Domiloff?” Reist asked, quietly.

“I regret to say that he is known to be in this house,” Ruttens answered. “Further, the fact that you, Duke, were also known to be here when every loyal Thetian is under arms, compelled me to assume that your attitude towards this Russian spy was not inimical.”

Reist started as though struck. Immediately afterwards Ruttens’ attention was attracted by the sound of stealthy footsteps in the further corner of the apartment. He half drew his sword and peered forward.

“Who is that?” he asked. “Duke of Reist, I have spared you the indignity of filling your house with police, but I must call upon you at once to hand over my prisoner. If not I shall summon my men. I have only to——”

He was powerless to utter another syllable. A strong pair of arms were around his neck, and a handkerchief thrust into his mouth. He only looked towards Reist, but the look was such that Reist felt the shameful colour flood his cheeks.

Hassen’s dagger gleamed blue in the twilight, but Reist held out his hand.

“Listen,” he said, “bind and gag him, and then escape by the western entrance. But no violence. He is an old man.”

Hassen shrugged his shoulders, but Domiloff hastened to assent.

“There is no need to hurt him,” he said. “Keep him here quietly for a while. I will order my men into the hall in case that motley crew below try to force an entrance. Countess, will you be showing our friend the way to the western exit? Reist, you must watch this man.”

They hurried away. Reist stood quite still for a moment. His heart was thumping against his side. He bent over Ruttens and lifted the gag from his mouth.

“What was the signal to your men that they should follow you?” he whispered.

Ruttens caught his breath for a moment.

“A—broken window.”

Reist seized a paper-weight from his table and dashed it through the nearest pane. The glass fell with a crash into the street below. There was an answering shout and a rush of feet. Domiloff rushed breathless in.

“What has happened?” he exclaimed.

“A stone thrown from the street below,” he answered. “Quick, Domiloff, and escape. They are streaming in below. Why, they are fighting already.”

Domiloff was pale with fear, but he forced a smile.

“I have friends in the city,” he said. “They will not see me taken. Farewell, Reist! Remember!”

He hastened from the room. Reist stooped down and cut the cords which held Ruttens.

“Listen, Ruttens,” he said. “I have plans of my own for saving Theos, and unfortunately Domiloff has been concerned in them. But that is over. You know the western entrance? He leaves by that. Quick!”

Ruttens staggered from the room. Already the sound of firearms rang out from the hall below.