nce."

"Her highness, the Princess von der Tann, is not a guest of Prince
Peter." The girl's voice was low and cold. "If Mr. Custer is a
prisoner, her highness, too, is a prisoner. If he is to be shot, she
demands a like fate. To die by the side of a MAN would be infinitely
preferable to living by the side of your majesty."

Once again Leopold of Lutha reddened. For a moment he paced the
room angrily to hide his emotion. Then he turned once to Maenck.

"Escort the prisoner to the north tower," he commanded, "and this
insolent girl to the chambers next to ours. Tomorrow we shall talk
with her again."

Outside the room Barney turned for a last look at the princess as he
was being led in one direction and she in another. A smile of
encouragement was on his lips and cold hopelessness in his heart.
She answered the smile and her lips formed a silent "good-bye." They
formed something else, too--three words which he was sure he could
not have mistaken, and then they parted, he for the death chamber
and she for what fate she could but guess.

As his guard halted before a door at the far end of a long corridor
Barney Custer sensed a sudden familiarity in his surroundings. He
was conscious of that sensation which is common to all of us--of
having lived through a scene at some former time, to each minutest
detail.

As the door opened and he was pushed into the room he realized that
there was excellent foundation for the impression--he immediately
recognized the apartment as the same in which he had once before
been imprisoned. At that time he had been mistaken for the mad king
who had escaped from the clutches of Peter of Blentz. The same king
was now visiting as a guest the fortress in which he had spent ten
bitter years as a prisoner.

"Say your prayers, my friend," admonished Maenck, as he was about to
leave him alone, "for at dawn you die--and this time the firing
squad will make a better job of it."

Barney did not answer him, and the captain departed, locking the
door after him and leaving two men on guard in the corridor. Alone,
Barney looked about the room. It was in no wise changed since his
former visit to it. He recalled the incidents of the hour of his
imprisonment here, thought of old Joseph who had aided his escape,
looked at the paneled fireplace, whose secret, it was evident, not
even the master of Blentz was familiar with--and grinned.

"'For at dawn you die!'" he repeated to himself, still smiling
b