“Baron Domiloff! It is I, Marie of Reist. Let me in.”

She stepped into the darkened room, and closed the door behind her. Domiloff, who was looking white and scared, turned the key in the lock and faced her nervously.

“Why have you come here, Countess?” he exclaimed. “Do you not understand that I am in hiding? It is not a fit place for you—and you may have been followed.”

She held her handkerchief to her face and looked around her in disgust.

“You are right,” she answered. “It is not a fit place for any one. It is abominable. What are you doing here?”

“The King and this Englishman Brand are in the city together, and they have scent of how things are going,” he answered. “My house in the avenue was surrounded by soldiers this morning, but I managed to give them the slip and reach here safely. Have you brought me word from Nicholas?”

She shook her head.

“No!”

“Then why are you here? This place is of evil repute. Besides, it is not safe. You may have been followed.”

“I believe that I was,” she answered. “It is not of any consequence. There is not any one in Theos who would harm a Reist.”

His face was unnaturally white. She looked at him in wonder. Was the man a coward?

“But it was madness!” he exclaimed, angrily. “There are spies everywhere. Your brother and I were overheard talking together at this very place. I may be arrested at any moment.”

She glanced at him contemptuously.

“I suppose that when one conspires,” she said, “there is always danger. Baron Domiloff, I have followed you here because since noon yesterday there have been two attempts upon the life of the Englishman, Walter Brand.”

“Both bungled,” he remarked. “One is ill served, so far from home.”

She turned upon him fiercely.

“Have you forgotten what I told you only a few days ago?”

“One does not remember too long,” he answered, lightly, “the words of an angry woman.”

Her eyes flashed upon him wrathfully. The odour of the violets at her bosom seemed to fill the dark, stuffy room. He remarked suddenly how beautiful she was.

“If you do not know when a woman is in earnest,” she declared, “you are a fool. I have come to tell you this. That the moment evil happens to him I go at once to the King. I tell him everything. Mind, this is no idle threat. I swear to you that I will do this.”

A cloud of evil passions swept up from the man’s heart. He drew a little closer to her and took up his stand nearer the door.

“It is folly,” he said, in a low tone, “the man is working up all Europe with his accursed letters. He must be removed.”

“If evil comes to him,” she said, steadily, “the King shall know all.”

He drew a little closer to her. An ugly smile curved his lips.

“It cannot be, Countess, that your interest in this fellow is personal. He is not of your order. You would not be so cruel as to bestow upon him a consideration which you deny to your equals!”

“It seems to me,” she said, calmly, “that you are trying to be impertinent. The nature of my interest in Mr. Brand can be no concern of yours. It is sufficient that what I have said I mean!”

“I do not find it sufficient,” he answered, quietly.

She turned upon him haughtily. Her delicate eyebrows were drawn together. Her eyes were aglow with anger. Domiloff watched her stealthily. Why had he never realized how handsome she was? He drew a little nearer to her.

“What do you mean?” she demanded. “Insolent!”

“Countess,” he answered, “it is very strange to me that you should so long have been ignorant of the truth. Do you think that it is for the sake of Theos I have planned for the overthrow of Ughtred of Tyrnaus? Do you think that it is for your brother’s sake that I have smoothed his way to the throne? No! My reward has always been clear before me. I have looked for it always at your hands.”

“At my hands?”

He winced before the amazed scorn of her words. Yet he continued steadily.

“If you are surprised, Countess,” he said, “well, I have been the victim of that time-worn fallacy which ascribes to any woman at any time the knowledge of being loved. You have always been the object of my respectful admiration. You are now——”

She threw out her hands—a silencing gesture.

“Enough!” she exclaimed. “I do not know what you are going to say. I do not wish to hear it.”

“You must!” he declared. “You shall hear me!”

She turned her back upon him, but he was between her and the door. He turned the key in the lock, and faced her—a new Domiloff, wolf-like, with evil things in his white face and black eyes.

“You shall promise to be my wife,” he said, “or——”

“Or what?”

She did not quail. His eyes fell before hers. But the key slipped into his pocket.

“Or you do not leave this house,” he answered. “I am master here. The whole quarter is Russian. Be reasonable, Countess. The alliance is worthy of your consideration.”

She leaned suddenly forward, and struck him across the cheek.

“You cur,” she cried. “I would as soon marry one of my servants.”

She beat upon the door and called out. Domiloff drew out his handkerchief and held it to his cheek. He made no effort to silence her. There was a dull red mark across his face. If she could have seen his expression she would have been frightened.

There came no answer to her calling. She rushed across to the window. There were men on the place below, but they only answered her frantic gestures with dull indifference—at most with a shrug of the shoulders and a smile. They were Russian Jews. It was as Domiloff had said. They were his creatures. It was the one evil spot in Theos. Domiloff stood with his back to her, still with his handkerchief to his face.

She turned upon him fiercely.

“If you do not let me out,” she cried, “Nicholas shall shoot you like a dog.”

“It may be,” he answered, coolly, “that I shall shoot Nicholas. At least there will be something to be wiped out between us. I shall not fear his vengeance.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, suddenly cold with the first sensations of fear. The man’s quietness was ominous, and she could see his face now. He put his handkerchief away and came over to her, catching her wrists with a sudden catlike movement.

“It is your own fault,” he said. “You will remember that blow to your dying day.”

They stood side by side at the window of one of the great reception rooms of the palace, the King and Brand. A driving storm of rain was beating against the glass, and the thunder rattled amongst the distant hills from peak to peak. Ughtred was looking more pale and harassed than when he had ridden, sword in hand, in front of his tiny army and watched the Turks closing in around them.

“What is the meaning of it, Brand?” he asked, sadly. “There is something astir which I cannot understand. See how the people throng the Square in front of the Reist house, and scarcely even glance this way. What are they waiting for?”

Brand shook his head.

“The true meaning of it I do not know,” he answered, “but there is treason abroad. I am sure of that, and I am sure that Nicholas of Reist is concerned in it.”

The King bit his lip. If Nicholas of Reist were a traitor, what hope was there for Theos?

“I do not know these people,” he said. “My men are all in the field, or under arms at the barracks. These are not native Thetians.”

“They look to me,” Brand said, dryly, “like a horde of Russian Jews from across the frontier.”

“I am going to ride once more through the city,” the King said. “Come with me, Brand.”

They left the palace by a side door, and passed cautiously along the street, the King with his military cloak wrapped closely about him. All around was a constant muttering. The people talked together excitedly enough, but without elation. There were no signs that this was a day of victory. The King’s face grew stern.

“I do not know this rabble,” he said. “They are not my own people.”

“They are the tools of Domiloff,” Brand answered. “It is he who is at the root of all this trouble. It is he who has corrupted Nicholas of Reist.”

They rode across the Square, and the people scattered before them with muttered imprecations. Brand suddenly turned into a side street and motioned the King to follow him.

“Our police,” he said, “have failed to catch Domiloff. Let us try ourselves. I believe I know where he may be found.”

The King’s face lightened, and he touched his horse with the spur. But Brand hesitated.

“The place is in a bad quarter,” he said. “There will be risk.”

But Ughtred laughed.

“With a guard,” he said, “we should have no chance. You and I alone will take Domiloff.”