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The wicket in the entrance door was heard to open. An irregular, halting, desperate step came up the hall. With a lunge, the door flung open. Zulka, bleeding, grimy, and gasping, tottered into the room. "Schallberg! Schallberg!" he whispered faintly, "Lore! Bagos! all are taken!" And he fell heavily to the floor.

"Straight ahead. The lady is unconscious again." This was true, for as they entered the car Carter had been just in time to catch the Lady Trusia in his arms as she toppled forward in a sudden return of the fainting spell. "Why not back to the inn, sir?" Carrick's suggestion betrayed that he shared his companion's concern for Her Grace of Schallberg. "I'd rather not.

Trusia's face grew radiant as the landmarks of her country began to appear on every hand. With grumbling wheels the cars drew nearer Schallberg. "See, away off there to the northeast. There, that tiny speck against the sky," she cried rapturously as one returning home from a long sojourn abroad. "That is my castle. Do you see it, Your Majesty?" she asked, as she turned appealingly to him.

"Do you mean," he inquired gravely, simulating a solemnity he felt but little, "do you mean that you will not marry Her Grace of Schallberg?" The King, coming close, looked searchingly into Carter's eyes and laughed in faint raillery; he partially understood. His reply was evasive. "It is not every one," he said, "who can gain a throne by marrying a pretty girl."

Slowly refolding it he replaced it in an inner pocket. Being in a mood that anticipated much at the end of the journey, he was not loath to break into his chauffeur's taciturnity. "Well, cheer up. Even at this rate we ought to make Schallberg by sunset. It's eight o'clock now." "Seems more than an hour since I 'ad my breakfast." "I know, but no man's stomach is a safe timepiece, Carrick.

The train in one headlong descent drew up at the station at Schallberg. Looking out they could see a multitude of eager, expectant faces turned trainward. All Schallberg and most of the surrounding country had congregated to welcome their sovereign. In the front rank Carter espied his former friends, while last but not least a jubilant Carrick awaited his alighting.

It was decided that Carter and Sobieska should proceed to Vienna; Muhlen-Sarkey and Trusia with their two attendants were to cross into Germany at the nearest point, thence travel by rail, while Josef and the rest should embark boldly from Schallberg.

He was duly presented to the golden-haired girl and apprised of her kinship to his friend Paul, who had already entered into conversation with Her Grace of Schallberg. Carter found a temporary distraction from his unearned wounds in listening to her cheery prattle and answering her light queries about the wilderness she imagined his country to be, just beyond the environs of the municipalities.

The question of indebtedness we will not pursue. It is not a good basis of friendship." This was the Duchess of Schallberg; the possible aspirant to its throne? "You you are Trusia?" he stammered. "I am the Lady Trusia," she corrected gently. "Which wye?" asked Carrick who, having started the auto, kept his eyes steadily on the road in front of him and shot the question over his shoulder.

"You do not know what you ask," she whispered hoarsely. Then vehemently spurring her resolve into a gallop, she added, "When the King is crowned in Schallberg, I become his wife." "Suppose he isn't," he urged doggedly. "Oh, no," she cried brokenly, "don't make me a traitor to my country's hopes. Don't make me wish for failure." Unwittingly her words confessed her love for Carter.