ished crowd, followed by Captain Quinnox, upon
whose ghastly face there were bloodstains.

A shout went up from those assembled, a shout of joy. The faces of
Dangloss and Allode were pictures of astonishment and--it must be
said--relief. Harry Anguish staggered but recovered himself instantly,
and turned his eyes toward Gabriel. That worthy's legs trembled and his
jaw dropped.

"I have the prisoner, your Highness," said Quinnox, in hoarse,
discordant tones. He stood before the throne with his captive, but dared
not look his mistress in the face. As they stood there the story of the
night just passed was told by the condition of the two men. There had
been a struggle for supremacy in the dungeon and the prisoner had won.
The one had tried to hold the other to the dungeon's safety, after his
refusal to leave the castle, and the other had fought his way to the
halls above. It was then that Quinnox had wit enough to change front
and drag his prisoner to the place which, most of all, he had wished to
avoid.

"The prisoner!" shouted the northern nobles, and in an instant the
solemn throne room was wild with excitement.

"Do not sign that decree!" cried some one from a far corner.

"Here is your man, Prince Bolaroz!" cried a baron.

"Quinnox has saved us!" shouted another.

The Princess, white as death and as motionless, sat bolt upright in her
royal seat.

"Oh!" she moaned, piteously, and, clenching her hands, she carried them
to her eyes as if to shut out the sight. The Countess Halfont and Dagmar
ran to her side, the latter frantic with alarm. She knew more than the
others.

"Are you the fugitive?" cried Bolaroz.

I am Grenfall Lorry. Are you Bolaroz?'

"The father of the man you murdered. Ah, this is rapture!"

"I have only to say to your Highness, I did not kill your son. I swear
it, so help me God!"

"Your Highness," cried Bolaroz, stepping to the throne, "destroy
that decree. This brave soldier has saved Graustark. In an hour your
ministers and mine will have drawn up a ten Tears' extension of time, in
proper form, to which my signature shall be gladly attached. I have not
forgotten my promise."

Yetive straightened suddenly, seized the pen and fiercely began to sign
the decree, in spite of all and before those about her fairly realized
her intention. Lorry understood, and was the first to snatch the
document from her hands. A half-written Yetive, a blot and a long,
spluttering scratch of the pen told