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Updated: June 14, 2025
Truxton had turned a brick red. Shame and mortification surged within him. He was cruelly conscious of an undercurrent of irony in the Premier's courteous request. For an instant he was sorely crushed. A low laugh from the opposite side of the room sent a shaft to his soul. He looked up. Vos Engo was still smiling.
She pressed his arm, that was all. He found himself wondering what answer she would give to Vos Engo when he took her to him to-morrow. To-morrow! This was the 26th! Would there be a to-morrow for any of them for Vos Engo, for Tullis, for the Prince? For her? "There will be time to warn them in the morning," he thought, dulled by fatigue. "We can't go on now."
Tullis, who liked the gay young nobleman despite the reputation he had managed to live down, was willing that he should be the one to lead the troops, but Colonel Quinnox flatly refused to consider it. "To-morrow's celebration in the city will demand the attendance of every noble officer in the guard," he said. "I cannot allow you to go, Count Vos Engo. Your place is here, beside the Prince.
Holding on with one arm, he turned and fired repeatedly in the direction of the howling crowd of rascals. "Ride to the barracks gates, Vos Engo!" commanded Colonel Quinnox. "Be prepared to admit none but the Royal Reserves, who are under standing orders to report there in time of need." "God grant that they may be able to come," responded the Count. Over his shoulder he hissed to his companion.
Later on, much of his good humour was restored and his vanity pleased by a polite request from Count Halfont to attend an important council in the "Room of Wrangles" that evening at nine. Very boldly he advanced upon the Castle a few minutes before the appointed hour. He went alone, that he might show a certain contempt for Count Vos Engo.
The Colonel, who admired the Americans, gravely informed him that there was no regular duty to which he could be assigned, but that he would expect him to hold himself ready for any emergency. In case of an assault, he was to report to Count Vos Engo. "We will need our bravest men at the Castle," he had said. Truxton glowed under the compliment. "In the meantime, Mr.
Near the door he met Loraine. She had just entered the room. There was a bright look of relief in her eyes. "Count Vos Engo has asked for you, Truxton," she said in a low voice. A delicate flush crept into her cheeks; a sudden shyness leaped into her eyes, and she looked away. "Loraine, have you told him?" "Yes. I am so sorry for him. He is one of the bravest men I have ever known, Truxton dear.
There was something else on my mind." He stopped and looked at her puzzled face. "Why should I save you from Marlanx just to have you hurry off and get married to Vos Engo? It's a mean thought, I know," hastily, "and unworthy of a typical hero, but, just the same, I hate to think of you marrying some one else." "Some one else?" she questioned, a pucker on her forehead.
Judge his dismay and anger when the soldier, a bit shamefaced himself, briefly announced that Count Vos Engo had issued an order against loitering in close proximity to the Castle. Mr. King was inside the limit described in the order. Would he kindly retire to a more distant spot, etc. Truxton's cheek burned.
"You will be when I have told you, however, because it concerns you." "I do not like your words, Mr. King, nor the way in which you glare at me." "I'm making it easier to tell you the agreeable news, Count Vos Engo; that's all. You'll be delighted to hear that I thought of you nearly all night and still feel that I have not been able to do you full justice."
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