d behind curtains. And Paul had only one
word of advice to give, upon which he harped continually: "Be thou very
courageous--be thou very courageous." Nothing new, for so it was written
in the oldest book of all. The starosta was a timorous man, needing such
strong support as his master gave him from time to time.

At the great gates of the park they paused, and Paul gave the mayor of
Osterno a few last words of advice. While they were standing there the
other man who had been following joined them.

"Is that you, Steinmetz?" asked Paul, his hand thrust with suspicious
speed into his jacket pocket.

"Yes."

"What are you doing here?"

"Watching you," answered Karl Steinmetz, in his mild way. "It is no
longer safe for either of us to go about alone. It was mere foolery your
going to that kabak."

CHAPTER XXXVI

A TROIS

Of all the rooms in the great castle Etta liked the morning-room best.
Persons of a troubled mind usually love to look upon a wide prospect.
The mind, no doubt, fears the unseen approach of detection or danger,
and transmits this dread to the eye, which likes to command a wide view
all around.

The great drawing-room was only used after dinner. Until that time the
ladies spent the day either in their own boudoirs or in the morning-room
looking over the cliff. Here, while the cold weather lasted, Etta had
tea served, and thither the gentlemen usually repaired at the hour set
apart for the homely meal. They had come regularly the last few
evenings. Paul and Steinmetz had suddenly given up their long drives to
distant parts of the estate.

Here the whole party was assembled on the Sunday afternoon following
Paul's visit to the village kabak, and to them came an unexpected guest.
The door was thrown open, and Claude de Chauxville, pale, but
self-possessed and quiet, came into the room. The perfect ease of his
manner bespoke a practised familiarity with the position difficult. His
last parting with Paul and Steinmetz had been, to say the least of it,
strained. Maggie, he knew, disliked and distrusted him. Etta hated and
feared him.

He was in riding costume--a short fur jacket, fur gloves, a cap in his
hand, and a silver-mounted crop. A fine figure of a man--smart, well
turned out, well-groomed--a gentleman.

"Prince," he said frankly, "I have come to throw myself upon your
generosity. Will you lend me a horse? I was riding in the forest when my
horse fell over a root and lamed himself