round him. "Two of you--. But wait.
Who's back of Kopf?"

"Our distinguished Colonel," snapped Max, "who was this day relieved of
his straps. A case of revenge, probably."

"Beauvais! Ah, ah!" The Captain smiled grimly. He had always hated
Beauvais, who had, for no obvious reason, passed him and grasped the
coveted colonelcy, and because, curiously enough, the native troops had
made an idol of him. "Beauvais? I am not surprised. An adventurer, with
neither kith nor country."

"He is Prince Walmoden," said Maurice, "and for some reason not known,
the emperor has promised to recall him."

This information caused the Captain to step back, and he muttered the
name several times. "Austria...." A gloom settled on his face. "No
matter. Prince or no prince, or had he one thousand emperors behind him,
no matter. Four of you seek him and arrest him. If he offers resistance,
knock him on the head, but arrest him. A traitor is without name,
country or respect. His purpose... Never mind.

"Four of you seek for Kopf. Look into Stuler's, in at the opera, and
follow Kopf's woman home. I'll take it upon myself to telegraph the
frontier to allow no one to cross on the pain of being shot. Pass the
word to the officers in the stables. Hurry away before the archbishop
hears of the matter. Away with you, and quietly. And one of you seek
that blockhead of a coachman, who did not know enough to come back here
and inform us. Beauvais, make him a prisoner, you are not to know
why. As for Kopf, dead or alive--alive will be less convenient for all
concerned. Off with you!"

The guardroom was at once emptied, and the cuirassiers turned off toward
the stables, where the main body of the troops was stationed.

Riemer, who was both surgeon and soldier, probed the wound in von
Miner's leg and extracted the bullet, which had lodged in the fleshy
part of the calf. He applied cold water, lints and bandages. All the
while von Mitter sat in the chair, his eyes shut and his lips closed
tightly.

"There!" said the surgeon, standing up, "that's better. The loss of
blood is the worst part of it." Next he took a few stitches in the cut
on the cheek and threw his cloak over the wounded man's knee. "He'll be
all right in a day or so, though he'll limp. Carl?"

"O, I'm sound enough," answered von Mitter, opening his eyes. "A little
weak in the knees, that's all. I shouldn't have given in, only Kopf got
away when we had him fair and fast. We found his hor