n inch--just enough to permit
me to look into the apartment where the king and the American lay
wounded. They had been talking as I opened the door, but after that
they ceased--the king falling asleep at once--the American feigning
slumber. For a long time I watched, but nothing happened until near
midnight. Then the American arose and donned the king's clothes.

"He approached Leopold with drawn sword, but when he would have
thrust it through the heart of the sleeping man his nerve failed
him. Then he stole some papers from the room and left. Just now he
has ridden out toward Lustadt with the men of the Royal Horse who
captured the castle yesterday."

Before Maenck was half-way through his narrative, Peter of Blentz
was wide awake and all attention. His eyes glowed with suddenly
aroused interest.

"Somewhere in this, prince," concluded Maenck, "there must lie the
seed of fortune for you and me."

Peter nodded. "Yes," he mused, "there must."

For a time both men were buried in thought. Suddenly Maenck snapped
his fingers. "I have it!" he cried. He bent toward Prince Peter's
ear and whispered his plan. When he was done the Blentz prince
grasped his hand.

"Just the thing, Maenck!" he cried. "Just the thing. Leopold will
never again listen to idle gossip directed against our loyalty. If I
know him--and who should know him better--he will heap honors upon
you, my Maenck; and as for me, he will at least forgive me and take
me back into his confidence. Lose no time now, my friend. We are
free now to go and come, since the king's soldiers have been
withdrawn."

In the garden back of the castle an old man was busy digging a hole.
It was a long, narrow hole, and, when it was completed, nearly four
feet deep. It looked like a grave. When he had finished the old man
hobbled to a shed that leaned against the south wall. Here were
boards, tools, and a bench. It was the castle workshop. The old man
selected a number of rough pine boards. These he measured and sawed,
fitted and nailed, working all the balance of the night. By dawn, he
had a long, narrow box, just a trifle smaller than the hole he had
dug in the garden. The box resembled a crude coffin. When it was
quite finished, including a cover, he dragged it out into the garden
and set it upon two boards that spanned the hole, so that it rested
precisely over the excavation.

All these precautions methodically made, he returned to the castle.
In a little storeroom