all right," he said.

"Will they come soon?"

"I hope not--I mean, yes; it must be morning."

"I loathe the dark," she sighed. Presently her head dropped over against
his shoulder and she was asleep again.

"I don't give a damn if they never come," thought Truxton King,
intoxicated with bliss.

Afraid to move for fear of disturbing her, he sat there for an hour or
more his back twisted and uncomfortable, but never so resolute. He would
not have moved for all the world.

All this time his brain was working like mad in the new-found desire to
perform miracles for the sake of this lovely, unattainable creature. Was
there no way to foil these triumphant conspirators? He was forgetting
the Prince, the horrors of the 26th; he was thinking only of saving this
girl from the fate that Marlanx had in store for her. Vos Engo may have
had the promise, but what could it profit him if Marlanx had the girl?

"I've got about as much chance as a snowball," he reflected, courage and
decision growing stronger each moment. "I might just as well die one way
as another. If I could only catch 'em napping for a minute, I might turn
the trick. God, that would be--" he was lost in ecstatic contemplation
of the glory that such an event would bring.

Footsteps in the outer room recalled him to the bitter reality of their
position. He awoke her and whispered words of encouragement into her
bewildered ears. Then he put on his coat and threw himself on the floor,
first wrapping the rope about his wrists to deceive the guard.

A key turned in the padlock and the bolt was raised. Old man Spantz
stood in the doorway, peering in at them. In surly tones Truxton replied
to his sharp query, saying that the candle had gone out while he slept.

"It is noon," said the old man irascibly. Then he came in and lighted a
candle.

"Noon of the 25th," said Truxton bitterly. "In twenty-four hours it will
be all over, eh, Spantz?"

"At noon to-morrow," said Spantz grimly.

There were half a dozen men in the outer room, conversing in low,
excited tones; the fervent gesticulations which usually marked their
discussions were missing, proving the constraint that had descended upon
them. One of them--it was Julius Spantz--brought in the food for the
prisoners, setting it on the floor between them.

"It is usually the duty of our friend Julius to feed me," observed
Truxton to his fellow-prisoner. "I dare say he won't mind if you relieve
him of the task."