ll these people together?" I asked de Lacy.

"Most of them, my lord, were born at Rougemont. Still others were
adopted and brought here almost as soon as they were born. None of us
has ever been outside Rougemont gates." De Lacy was quite matter-of-fact
as he made his statement.

Wrexler was searching the hall with his eyes, as he listened to my
steward.

"And you?" I looked at de Lacy.

"I, too, my lord, know nothing of your outside world, nor do I want to.
Why should I, who am happy here? My family live down at the farm, but
his Highness, your father, became interested in me. He brought me into
the chateau, had me educated, and looked after me, himself. Eventually
he made me steward of Rougemont. It is a great honor he conferred upon
me and I shall do my best to help you, my lord."

Of a sudden I saw what my father's life-work had been: to rear a court
to people Rougemont. My father had been twenty-five at my mother's
death. He had died at fifty-eight. He had had thirty-three years to make
his dream come true.

"Where are the parents of the ones who were born at Rougemont?"

"At their own places, or the farms, my lord. Rougemont has over a
thousand acres and several manors upon it, where people whom his
Highness your father advanced over others, live. They all serve their
ruler in some way, in return for what is given them. Only the people of
the lodge are in touch with the Outside, which we have been taught to
look upon with scorn. Here we have everything, and to be taken to the
chateau itself is the ambition of everyone on the estate."

I saw it all; not, of course, every intricacy of the elaborate system my
father had evolved, but at least a glimmer of the truth. And I marveled
at the character of a man who had taken children out of the world to
make his own world and then had the patience to wait for them to grow
up; to form his court--the court he planned for me. Yes, in my egotism I
thought it was for me! Two weeks were to pass before I learned what his
real reason had been.

Into my reflections, Wrexler broke abruptly, "She is not here. Ask de
Lacy about her; her beauty haunts me. Already I am in love with her."

I was not surprized. Nothing, I felt, could at this point surprize me,
so much had happened in the last few hours. If my father had arisen from
the floor like Hamlet's ghost, I would have greeted him quite casually.

"Is there a young girl here with bronze curls and blue eyes?" I asked
obe