ition. Barney
commandeered a sword and a revolver, then he walked into the
courtyard and crossed to the stables. The way took him by the
garden. In it he saw a coffin-like box resting upon planks above a
grave-like excavation. Barney investigated. The box was empty. Once
again he grinned. "It is not always wise," he mused, "to count your
corpses before they're dead. What a lot of work the old man might
have spared himself if he'd only caught his cadaver first--or at
least tried to."

Passing on by his own grave, he came to the stables. A groom was
currying a strong, clean-limbed hunter haltered in the doorway. The
man looked up as Barney approached him. A puzzled expression entered
the fellow's eyes. He was a young man--a stupid-looking lout. It was
evident that he half recognized the face of the newcomer as one he
had seen before. Barney nodded to him.

"Never mind finishing," he said. "I am in a hurry. You may saddle
him at once." The voice was authoritative--it brooked no demur. The
groom touched his forehead, dropped the currycomb and brush, and
turned back into the stable to fetch saddle and bridle.

Five minutes later Barney was riding toward the gate. The portcullis
was raised--the drawbridge spanned the moat--no guard was there to
bar his way. The sunlight flooded the green valley, stretching
lazily below him in the soft warmth of a mellow autumn morning.
Behind him he had left the brooding shadows of the grim old
fortress--the cold, cruel, depressing stronghold of intrigue,
treason, and sudden death.

He threw back his shoulders and filled his lungs with the sweet,
pure air of freedom. He was a new man. The wound in his breast was
forgotten. Lightly he touched his spurs to the hunter's sides.
Tossing his head and curveting, the animal broke into a long, easy
trot. Where the road dipped into the ravine and down through the
village to the valley the rider drew his restless mount into a walk;
but, once in the valley, he let him out. Barney took the short road
to Lustadt. It would cut ten miles off the distance that the main
wagonroad covered, and it was a good road for a horseman. It should
bring him to Lustadt by one o'clock or a little after. The road
wound through the hills to the east of the main highway, and was
scarcely more than a trail where it crossed the Ru River upon a
narrow bridge that spanned the deep mountain gorge that walls the Ru
for ten miles through the hills.

When Barney reached th