one
stunned. The perspiration gathered slowly in great beads on his
forehead. He hung his head gloomily; his face went pale. It seemed,
suddenly, that life, ever a pleasant vista to him, had built a wall
before his eyes, unscalable, opaque.

Then he understood. A pain gripped his heart as the great truth came
home to him.

"I do," he answered jerkily, for he was striving to keep a strong man's
grip on his soul. Slowly, however, the agony, defying him, triumphed.
"My God," he wailed in surrender, "it is true though I never realized it
till now." That was all he said, but with blind hands he groped for
fellowship and welcomed Zulka's responsive grip of steel.

Relaxing his handclasp, he arose and walked to the window, to gaze out
upon darkness until his own night passed from him sufficiently to enable
him to seize upon his soul in the elusive shadows and hold it firmly.
From where he stood, after an interval of pregnant silence, he turned a
high-held, stern, white face upon Zulka.

"Paul," he said quietly, "we'll have to stand by her now to the end. If
Krovitch wins and I'm alive, I'll go back to New York. If she loses,
our lives must purchase her safety, should that be the price. It will be
Trusia first, then."

"It will always be Trusia," said Zulka.

Carter nodded his understanding.

"Come, Carter!" Zulka said almost brusquely, "enough of sentiment. We
must dress for the levee. I can fit you out in clothes."

XII

CARTER FINDS AN ALLY

The haut nobility of Krovitch were present at the Ducal reception that
night. Glittering uniforms, with a plentiful supply of feminine silks
and sparkling jewels, made even the gray old halls of the castle take on
a warmer, gladder note. But to Carter, with an aching heart hidden
behind a smiling countenance, the gaiety seemed forced, the colors
glaring; while to his questing eyes all faces appeared blank surfaces,
save one.

She was talking to a wisp of a golden-haired girl, whom he afterward
learned was Zulka's cousin, the daughter of the plump Holder of the
Purse. Apparently Trusia had not yet noticed his entrance, but why
should she?

Had he been gifted with omnipresence, however, he would have heard her
say to her companion, "That is he. The one in dress suit. No, stupid,
not the short man in black and gold, but the strapping big fellow who
holds his head like some ancient paladin."

"Oh," her companion had answered impulsively, as she finally singled
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