rs, Steinmetz and I have
seen to that. We have been expecting this for some days."

He turned toward Steinmetz as if seeking confirmation. The din was
increasing. When the German spoke he had to shout.

"We can beat them back if we like. We can shoot them down from the
windows. But"--he paused, shrugged his shoulders, and laughed--"what
will you! This prince will not shoot his father's serfs."

"We must leave you," went on Paul. "We must beware of treachery.
Whatever happens, we shall not leave the house. If the worst comes, we
make our last stand in this room. Whatever happens, stay here till we
come."

He left the room, followed by Steinmetz. There were only three doors in
the impregnable stone walls; the great entrance, a side door for use in
times of deep snow, and the small concealed entrance by which the
starosta was in the habit of reaching his masters.

For a moment the two men stood at the head of the stairs listening to
the wild commotion. They were turning to descend the state stairs when a
piercing shriek, immediately drowned by a yell of triumph, broke the
silence of the interior of the castle. There was a momentary stillness,
followed by another shriek.

"They are in!" said Steinmetz. "The side door."

And the two men looked at each other with wide eyes full of knowledge.

As they ran to the foot of the broad staircase the tramp of scuffling
feet, the roar of angry voices, came through the passages from the back
of curtained doorways. The servants' quarters seemed to be pandemonium.
The sounds approached.

"Half-way up!" said Paul, and they ran half-way up the broad staircase
side by side. There they stood and waited.

In a moment the baize doors were burst open, and a scuffling mass of men
and women poured into the hall--a very sewer of humanity.

A yell of execration signalized their recognition of the prince.

"They are mad!" said Steinmetz, as the crowd surged forward toward the
stairs with waving arms and the dull gleam of steel; with wild faces
turned upward, wild mouths bellowing hatred and murder.

"It is a chance--it may stop them!" said Steinmetz.

His arm was outstretched steadily. A loud report, a little puff of smoke
shooting upward to the gilded ceiling, and for one brief moment the
crowd stood still, watching one of their ringleaders, who was turning
and twisting on his side half a dozen steps from the bottom.

The man writhed in silence with his hand to his breast, and the