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The Captain whipped out his knife, locked it, and gave it to Maurice. "Riemer," he called to one of the cuirassiers, who were rising from the mess table, "bring out your box of instruments; and you, Scharfenstein, a basin of cold water. Quick!" Maurice knelt and deftly cut away the Lieutenant's boot. A pool of blood collected on the floor.
Scharfenstein found me toddling about in a railroad station, and that locket was the only thing about me that might be used in the matter of identification. You will observe that there is no lettering, not even the jeweler's usual carat-mark to qualify the gold. I recall nothing; life with me dates only from the wide plains and grazing cattle. I was born either in Germany or Austria.
"He has tricked you all. This is not he!" Three astonished faces peered over the old man's shoulder. Carmichael eyed them evilly. He now saw that one was a carter, another a butcher, and the third a baker. He had seen them before, in the Black Eagle. But this signified nothing. "Untie him and take off that rag. It may be Scharfenstein." The old man possessed authority.
"Don't be foolish, Mr. Scharfenstein; it is not a matter of a man's courage, but of his common sense. Take the tickets and light out. I have lived here for three years, and have seen men killed outright for less than you have done." "But you don't expect me to leave this place without punching that beggar's head?" indignantly. "What do you think I'm made of?"
Slowly he rolled over on his stomach, thence to his knees. They were paying no attention to him.... "Ho, there! the prisoner!" cried von Mitter, tumbling out of the carriage. He tried to stand up, but a numbness seized his legs, and he sank to a sitting posture. Maurice and Scharfenstein turned too late. Johann had mounted on Scharfenstein's horse, and was flying away down the road.
It was a four-pointed scar, with a perfect circle around it. Somehow, it seemed to me that this was not the first time I had seen this peculiar mark. I did not recollect ever seeing it on Max's arm. Where had I seen it, then? "It looks like a burn," I ventured to suggest. "It is. I wish I knew what it signifies. Scharfenstein said that it was positively fresh when he found me.
You will not die, my friend, though the cut is a nasty one. What is an arm? Life is worth a thousand of them! Quick! help me with him, Max!" for Maurice was reaching blindly toward him. The three troopers who had followed Scharfenstein came up, and the five of them managed to carry Maurice into the throne room, and deposit him on the cushions at the foot of the dais. There they left him.
"Let me lie down somewhere; if I fall I am a dead man." After a pause: "Take me into the throne room. I shall last till Madame comes. Let her find me there.... The brandy!" Scharfenstein held the flask to the sufferer's lips. "The throne room?" repeated von Mitter, surprised at this strange request. "Well, why not? For what is a throne when there is no king to sit on it?
Lieutenant Scharfenstein was among them. At second glance he recognized Maurice, who hailed him. "Open, Lieutenant," he cried; "it is his Highness, Prince Frederick!" The bars came down, the gates swung in. "Go and sleep," said the prince to Maurice; "I will send an orderly for you when the time comes."
To kill Beauvais, the best saber in the kingdom it must have been a fight worthy of the legends. A bad day! They will laugh at us. But, patience, the archbishop has something to say before the curtain falls. Poor young man! He will lose his arm, if not his life." "But how comes he into all this?" asked Scharfenstein, perplexedly.
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