me at your service--at your command"--he began.

"Left you?" said Marco.

"He left us, all three, under orders--to WAIT," said Lazarus. "The
Master has gone."

The Rat felt something hot rush into his eyes. He brushed it away that
he might look at Marco's face. The shock had changed it very much.
Its glowing eager joy had died out, it had turned paler and his brows
were drawn together. For a few seconds he did not speak at all, and,
when he did speak, The Rat knew that his voice was steady only because
he willed that it should be so.

"If he has gone," he said, "it is because he had a strong reason. It
was because he also was under orders."

"He said that you would know that," Lazarus answered. "He was called
in such haste that he had not a moment in which to do more than write a
few words. He left them for you on his desk there."

Marco walked over to the desk and opened the envelope which was lying
there. There were only a few lines on the sheet of paper inside and
they had evidently been written in the greatest haste. They were these:

"The Life of my life--for Samavia."

"He was called--to Samavia," Marco said, and the thought sent his blood
rushing through his veins. "He has gone to Samavia!"

Lazarus drew his hand roughly across his eyes and his voice shook and
sounded hoarse.

"There has been great disaffection in the camps of the Maranovitch," he
said. "The remnant of the army has gone mad. Sir, silence is still the
order, but who knows--who knows? God alone."

He had not finished speaking before he turned his head as if listening
to sounds in the road. They were the kind of sounds which had broken
up The Squad, and sent it rushing down the passage into the street to
seize on a newspaper. There was to be heard a commotion of newsboys
shouting riotously some startling piece of news which had called out an
"Extra."

The Rat heard it first and dashed to the front door. As he opened it a
newsboy running by shouted at the topmost power of his lungs the news
he had to sell: "Assassination of King Michael Maranovitch by his own
soldiers! Assassination of the Maranovitch! Extra! Extra! Extra!"

When The Rat returned with a newspaper, Lazarus interposed between him
and Marco with great and respectful ceremony. "Sir," he said to Marco,
"I am at your command, but the Master left me with an order which I was
to repeat to you. He requested you NOT to read the newspapers until he
himself co