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We don't want a woman to die of starvation down here, in that event. I don't care what happens to the man in there. But the Count does not want this one to starve. Oh, no; not he." "We must put her in the room with the American for the present. You are sure he will take her away before Saturday? A woman's cries are most distressing." It was Spantz who spoke.
He has much to say to us, and he cannot talk with a dry throat." "Nor an empty stomach," added King. He drank long of the pitcher that was held to his lips. "This is not the Regengetz," growled a surly voice. "You mean, I don't eat?" "Not at midnight, my friend." "It seems to be an all-night joint." "Enough," cried Spantz. "Bring him out here. The others have come."
Something in the face of Peter Brutus sent a chill of apprehension into the very soul of the old armourer. And well it may have done so. "One moment!" called out Peter Brutus, lifting his hand imperatively. The speaker ceased his mouthings. "Count Marlanx desires the immediate presence of the following citizens at his office in the Tower. I shall call off the names." He began with William Spantz.
He is not afraid of Dangloss or Braze or Quinnox, but he is afraid of what he calls 'American luck! He is even superstitious about it." "We must not we cannot fail," grated William Spantz, and the cry was reiterated by half a dozen voices. "The world demands success of us!" cried Anna Cromer. "We die for success, we die for failure! It is all one!"
Truxton was silent for a moment, a sudden, swift thought flooding his brain. Controlling the quiver of anticipation in his voice, he took occasion to say: "I only hope you'll not forget to come back. I should be lonesome, Spantz." "Oh, we'll not forget you." "I suppose not. By the way, would you mind telling me what has become of your niece?" Spantz glared at him. "She does not meet with us now.
But why should Spantz wish him evil? Again intuition, encouraged by memory, supplied him with a possible, even plausible explanation. The Anarchists! The Reds! Olga was an avowed Anarchist; she was almost a prisoner in the house of her uncle. Truxton's guard sat up suddenly and felt for his weapon when the captive let out a bitter oath of understanding and rage.
There will be no hitch," said the horseman in low tones. "You have seen Spantz?" "Sh! No names. Yes. The girl is ready." "And the fortress?" "Fifty men are in the houses opposite and others will go there later on." "We must keep the reserves out of the fortress. It would mean destruction if they got to the gun-rooms and the ammunition houses." "Is he here?" with a motion toward the upper window.
"I I was afraid you might think I am not a gentleman. I've been rather fresh." "I happen to have known many gentlemen. Before I went into service, of course." She turned away abruptly, a sudden shadow crossing her face. Truxton King exulted. At last he was touching the long-sought trail of the Golden Girl! Here was Romance! Here was mystery! Spantz was crossing the sidewalk.
"God, this suspense has been horrible. But they are here." "Stand ready, then, with the guns!" cried Peter Brutus. "It may be a trick, after all. Don't open that door down there, Spantz, until you know who is on the outside." Then followed a long interval of dead silence. "It's all right," came at last in the relieved, eager voice of Peter Brutus. "Clear the way, comrades. Give them room!
Spantz looked at him keenly under his bushy brows, his little black eyes fairly boring holes into King's brain, so to speak. "May I ask what brings you to Edelweiss?" he asked abruptly. "I don't mind telling you, Mr. Spantz, that I'm here because I'm somewhat of a fool. False hopes led me astray.
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