yet! The court here? A grand ball? What else can it mean but that Madame
is celebrating a victory to come? If the archbishop has those consols,
she will wage war; and this is the prelude." He jogged along. He had
accomplished a third of the remaining distance, when he was challenged.
The sentry came forward and scrutinized the rider.

"O, it is Monsieur Carewe!" he cried in delighted tones. He touched his
cap and fell back into the shadows.

A mile farther, and the great chateau, scintillating with lights, loomed
up against the yellow sky. He felt a thrill of excitement. Doubtless
there would be some bright passages before the night drew to a close. He
would make furious love to the pretty countess; it would be something in
the way of relaxation. How would they greet him? What would be Madame's
future plans in regard to Fitzgerald? How would she get him out of the
way, now that he had served her purpose? He laughed.

"The future promises much," he said, half aloud. "I am really glad that
I came back."

"Halt!"

Maurice drew up. A sentry stepped out into the road.

"O, it is Monsieur Carewe!" he cried. With a short laugh he disappeared.

"Hang me," grumbled Maurice as he went on, "these fellows have
remarkable memories. I can't recollect any of them." He was mystified.

Shortly he came upon the patrol. The leader ordered him to dismount, an
order be obeyed willingly, for he was longing to stand again. He shook
his legs, while the leader struck a match.

"Why, it is Monsieur Carewe!" he cried. "Good! We are coming out to meet
you. This is a pleasure indeed."

Maurice gazed keenly into the speaker's face, and to his surprise beheld
the baron whose arm he had broken a fortnight since. He climbed on his
horse again.

"I am glad you deem it a pleasure, baron," he said dryly. "From what you
imply, I should judge that you were expecting me."

"Nothing less! Your departure from Bleiberg was known to us as early as
two o'clock this after-noon," answered the baron. "Permit us to escort
you to the chateau before the ladies see you. 'Tis a gala night; we are
all in our best bib and tucker, as the English say. We believed at one
time that you were not going to honor us with a second visit. Now
to dress, both of us; at ten Madame the duchess arrives with General
Duckwitz and Colonel Mollendorf, who is no relation to the late minister
of police in Bleiberg."

Underneath all this Maurice discerned a shade of mockery, an