a strange national
air which stirred in Ughtred's heart some faint echo of far-away
recollections. He watched them eagerly, and his heart swelled with
pride. A fine, stalwart race, with the free swinging walk of
mountaineers, bright-eyed, clear-skinned, with cheeks as brown as
berries. His dormant patriotism, already awakened by his long ride
through the beautiful, dimly-familiar country, beat in his heart. He
would rule these people as his children, and though he died sword in
hand the yoke of the conqueror should never bow their shoulders. It
was a great task--a great heritage.

A train, brilliant with lights, glided serpent-like over the high
viaduct to their left. A murmur arose from amongst the people.

"The Prince," they cried. "The Prince."

"What does it mean?" Ughtred asked.

"God only knows," Reist answered, bewildered.

At the station a cordon of soldiers blocked the way. The two men
spurred on into the front ranks. Amongst a thunder of acclamation they
saw Domiloff and Brand in his brilliant uniform take their places in
the waiting carriage. They were speechless.

"To the palace," Reist cried at last. "Come, Ughtred; there's some
damned underhand plotting going on."

"It was Brand!" Ughtred exclaimed. "Brand in the uniform of the Theos
Guards. Is the man mad?"

"I do not think that it was Brand at all," Reist answered, fiercely.
"It is a plot of that accursed Russian. Way, good people, way!"

But the people, good-natured though they were, were wedged too thickly
to let them pass. At last in a rush they were almost unhorsed. A
direct progress to the palace was impossible. Reist turned up a side
street.

"We will go to my house," he said. "It will take us some time this
way, but we shall never succeed in reaching the palace."

* * * * *

The panel slid back behind them, and closed with a spring. From some
place upon the wall invisible to him the Countess took a small silver
lamp, and carefully lit it. Then holding it high over her head she
turned towards Brand.

"You must follow me closely," she said. "The way is narrow, and there
are steps. Listen!"

They both stood for a moment with bated breath. In the room behind was
tumult. There were angry voices, the ringing of bells, bewildered
exclamations.

"It is my friend, Domiloff," Brand whispered. "I am afraid that he has
lost his temper. I might at least have left a note."

She motioned him to follow her.