LITMIR.BIZ

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first—proclaim a state of siege in Strelsau, and send a messenger to Zenda. The other three will murder the King in the Castle, and the duke will proclaim either himself or the princess—himself, if he is strong enough. Anyhow, he’ll marry her, and become king in fact, and soon in name. Do you see?”

      “It’s a pretty plot. But why, madame, do you—?”

      “Say I’m a Christian—or say I’m jealous. My God! shall I see him marry her? Now go; but remember—this is what I have to tell you—that never, by night or by day, are you safe. Three men follow you as a guard. Is it not so? Well, three follow them; Michael’s three are never two hundred yards from you. Your life is not worth a moment if ever they find you alone. Now go. Stay, the gate will be guarded by now. Go down softly, go past the summer-house, on for a hundred yards, and you’ll find a ladder against the wall. Get over it, and fly for your life.”

      “And you?” I asked.

      “I have my game to play too. If he finds out what I have done, we shall not meet again. If not, I may yet—But never mind. Go at once.”

      “But what will you tell him?”

      “That you never came—that you saw through the trick.”

      I took her hand and kissed it.

      “Madame,” said I, “you have served the King well tonight. Where is he in the Castle?”

      She sank her voice to a fearful whisper. I listened eagerly.

      “Across the drawbridge you come to a heavy door; behind that lies—Hark! What’s that?”

      There were steps outside.

      “They’re coming! They’re too soon! Heavens! they’re too soon!” and she turned pale as death.

      “They seem to me,” said I, “to be in the nick of time.”

      “Close your lantern. See, there’s a chink in the door. Can you see them?”

      I put my eye to the chink. On the lowest step I saw three dim figures. I cocked my revolver. Antoinette hastily laid her hand on mine.

      “You may kill one,” said she. “But what then?”

      A voice came from outside—a voice that spoke perfect English.

      “Mr. Rassendyll,” it said.

      I made no answer.

      “We want to talk to you. Will you promise not to shoot till we’ve done?”

      “Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Detchard?” I said.

      “Never mind names.”

      “Then let mine alone.”

      “All right, sire. I’ve an offer for you.”

      I still had my eye to the chink. The three had mounted two steps more; three revolvers pointed full at the door.

      “Will you let us in? We pledge our honour to observe the truce.”

      “Don’t trust them,” whispered Antoinette.

      “We can speak through the door,” said I.

      “But you might open it and fire,” objected Detchard; “and though we should finish you, you might finish one of us. Will you give your honour not to fire while we talk?”

      “Don’t trust them,” whispered Antoinette again.

      A sudden idea struck me. I considered it for a moment. It seemed feasible.

      “I give my honour not to fire before you do,” said I; “but I won’t let you in. Stand outside and talk.”

      “That’s sensible,” he said.

      The three mounted the last step, and stood just outside the door. I laid my ear to the chink. I could hear no words, but Detchard’s head was close to that of the taller of his companions (De Gautet, I guessed).

      “H’m! Private communications,” thought I. Then I said aloud:

      “Well, gentlemen, what’s the offer?”

      “A safe-conduct to the frontier, and fifty thousand pounds English.”

      “No, no,” whispered Antoinette in the lowest of whispers. “They are treacherous.”

      “That seems handsome,” said I, reconnoitering through the chink. They were all close together, just outside the door now.

      I had probed the hearts of the ruffians, and I did not need Antoinette’s warning. They meant to “rush” me as soon as I was engaged in talk.

      “Give me a minute to consider,” said I; and I thought I heard a laugh outside.

      I turned to Antoinette.

      “Stand up close to the wall, out of the line of fire from the door,” I whispered.

      “What are you going to do?” she asked in fright.

      “You’ll see,” said I.

      I took up the little iron table. It was not very heavy for a man of my strength, and I held it by the legs. The top, protruding in front of me, made a complete screen for my head and body. I fastened my closed lantern to my belt and put my revolver in a handy pocket. Suddenly I saw the door move ever so slightly—perhaps it was the wind, perhaps it was a hand trying it outside.

      I drew back as far as I could from the door, holding the table in the position that I have described. Then I called out:

      “Gentlemen, I accept your offer, relying on your honour. If you will open the door—”

      “Open it yourself,” said Detchard.

      “It opens outwards,” said I. “Stand back a little, gentlemen, or I shall hit you when I open it.”

      I went and fumbled with the latch. Then I stole back to my place on tiptoe.

      “I can’t open it!” I cried. “The latch has caught.”

      “Tut! I’ll open it!” cried Detchard. “Nonsense, Bersonin, why not? Are you afraid of one man?”

      I smiled to myself. An instant later the door was flung back. The gleam of a lantern showed me the three close together outside, their revolvers levelled. With a shout, I charged at my utmost pace across the summer-house and through the doorway. Three shots rang out and battered into my shield. Another moment, and I leapt out and the table caught them full and square, and in a tumbling, swearing, struggling mass, they and I and that brave table, rolled down the steps of the summerhouse to the ground below. Antoinette de Mauban shrieked, but I rose to my feet, laughing aloud.

      De Gautet and Bersonin lay like men stunned. Detchard was under the table, but, as I rose, he pushed it from him and fired again. I raised my revolver and took a snap shot; I heard him curse, and then I ran like a hare, laughing as I went, past the summer-house and along by the wall. I heard steps behind me, and turning round I fired again for luck. The steps ceased.

      “Please God,” said I, “she told me the truth about the ladder!” for the wall was high and topped with iron spikes.

      Yes, there it was. I was up and over in a minute. Doubling back, I saw the horses; then I heard a shot. It was Sapt. He had heard us, and was battling and raging with the locked gate, hammering it and firing into the keyhole like a man possessed. He had quite forgotten that he was not to take part in the fight. Whereat I laughed again, and said, as I clapped him on the shoulder:

      “Come home to bed, old chap. I’ve got the finest tea-table story that ever you heard!”

      He started and cried: “You’re safe!” and wrung my hand. But a moment later he added:

      “And what the devil are you laughing at?”

      “Four

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