hot retort which
sprang to his lips or striking his adversary to the ground. His hands
opened and closed tensely as he kept himself in check. Disregarding the
curt command, Carter, still holding Trusia in his arms, leaped lightly
from the car and would have carried her into the castle had not the
elderly soldier barred his way. With face crimson every glistening hair
seemed to flash the lightning of his unspeakable rage at such
presumption.

"Monsieur," said Carter with level eyes, "let me pass. The lady is too
ill for us to be bandying words. You are too old and too well supported
for me to hope to obtain adequate satisfaction for your insult."

The other did not budge from the path, but reached out a peremptory hand
which he laid on Trusia's shoulder.

"Give her to me, sir," he insisted, ignoring Carter's remarks entirely.

The Gray Man rubbed his hands together in open delight at the disfavor
the two strangers were incurring and his cynical smile grew more evident
every moment.

While an eye might wink the primitive man awoke in Calvert. He was
prompted to fight for the woman he held as he stood measuring glances
with his peremptory adversary. Then the folly of such resistance came to
his mind, so with a sigh and a frown he permitted the other to take her
from his arms. As he did so he felt not only that something intangible,
delectable had been loosened from his clasp, but that its relinquishment
had caused the life blood to move more sluggishly in his breast.

"We're up against it," whispered Carrick, who descending from the car
had placed himself at his master's elbow for such eventualities as might
arise.

Seemingly fearful of a conference between the two, the Gray Man gave a
sudden order. Six men leaped from the hostile circle, and before there
was an opportunity for resistance, Carter and Carrick were thrown to the
ground and their arms were tightly bound to their sides.

The mocking face of the Gray Man regarded them as he bent over Carter's
prostrate form.

"Get up," he said, touching the American ever so slightly with his toe.

"You shall pay for this," said the outraged Carter as he struggled to
his feet.

"I am not indebted to you," was the sneering rejoinder, as, with the
slightest of gestures, he intimated that the prisoners were to be
conducted into the castle, through whose portal Her Grace of Schallberg
was already being carried by the plethoric nobleman.

VII

A COOL RECEPTION