has
taken her away by force. She told me yesterday that she would never go
back to him if she could help it. I have already given you my suspicions
regarding his designs upon the--ahem!" Catching the eager gaze of the
Prince, he changed the word "throne" to "treasury." The Baron nodded
thoughtfully. "The Countess attended the fete at Baron Pultz's last
night, leaving at twelve o'clock. I said good-night to her at the
fountain and watched her until she passed through the gate between the
Baron's grounds and those of her father adjoining. She would not permit
me to accompany her to the doors. Her maid had preceded her and was
waiting just beyond the gate--at least, so she says to-day. It is less
than two hundred feet from the gate to Perse's doorsteps. Well, she
never crossed that space. Her maid waited for an hour near the fernery
and then came to the Baron's. The Countess has not been seen since she
passed through the gate in the wall. I say that she has been carried
away."

"The maid will be at my office at eleven with the Duke of Perse and the
house servants. I have detailed a man to look up this fellow Brutus you
speak of, and to ascertain his whereabouts last night. Come, we will go
to the Tower. The Duke is greatly distressed. He suspects foul play, I
am confident, but he will not admit that Marlanx is responsible."

"But what about Mr. King?" piped up a small voice.

"Colonel Quinnox has gone to look for him, Bobby," began Tullis,
frowning slightly. He was interested in but one human being at that
moment.

"I want the old Witch beheaded," said the Prince. "Why don't you go,
Uncle Jack? He's an American. He'd help you, I bet, if you were in
danger."

Tullis flushed. Then he patted Prince Robin's shoulder and said, with no
little emotion in his voice:

"Perhaps I deserve the rebuke, Bobby, but you must not forget that there
is a lady in distress. Which would you have me do--desert the lady whom
we all love or the man whom we scarcely know?"

"The lady," said Bobby promptly. "Hasn't she got a husband to look after
her? Mr. King has no friends, no relations, nothing. Aunt Loraine likes
him and so do I."

"He's a fine chap," asserted Hobbs, and afterward marvelled at his own
temerity.

Loraine, her merry eyes now dark with anxiety, her cheeks white with
resolution, turned upon John Tullis. "You might leave the rescue of the
Countess to the proper authorities--the police," she said calmly. "I
think it is y