e. Drain your flask, Fritz, for heaven's sake, boy!"

Fritz did as he was bid.

"We're an hour early," said Sapt. "We'll send word forward for your
Majesty's arrival, for there'll be no one here to meet us yet. And
meanwhile--"

"Meanwhile," said I, "the King'll be hanged if he doesn't have some
breakfast."

Old Sapt chuckled, and held out his hand.

"You're an Elphberg, every inch of you," said he. Then he paused, and
looking at us, said quietly, "God send we may be alive tonight!"

"Amen!" said Fritz von Tarlenheim.

The train stopped. Fritz and Sapt leapt out, uncovered, and held the
door for me. I choked down a lump that rose in my throat, settled my
helmet firmly on my head, and (I'm not ashamed to say it) breathed a
short prayer to God. Then I stepped on the platform of the station at
Strelsau.

A moment later, all was bustle and confusion: men hurrying up, hats
in hand, and hurrying off again; men conducting me to the buffet; men
mounting and riding in hot haste to the quarters of the troops, to the
Cathedral, to the residence of Duke Michael. Even as I swallowed the
last drop of my cup of coffee, the bells throughout all the city broke
out into a joyful peal, and the sound of a military band and of men
cheering smote upon my ear.

King Rudolf the Fifth was in his good city of Strelsau! And they shouted
outside--

"God save the King!"

Old Sapt's mouth wrinkled into a smile.

"God save 'em both!" he whispered. "Courage, lad!" and I felt his hand
press my knee.

CHAPTER 5

The Adventures of an Understudy

With Fritz von Tarlenheim and Colonel Sapt close behind me, I stepped
out of the buffet on to the platform. The last thing I did was to feel
if my revolver were handy and my sword loose in the scabbard. A gay
group of officers and high dignitaries stood awaiting me, at their head
a tall old man, covered with medals, and of military bearing. He wore
the yellow and red ribbon of the Red Rose of Ruritania--which, by the
way, decorated my unworthy breast also.

"Marshal Strakencz," whispered Sapt, and I knew that I was in the
presence of the most famous veteran of the Ruritanian army.

Just behind the Marshal stood a short spare man, in flowing robes of
black and crimson.

"The Chancellor of the Kingdom," whispered Sapt.

The Marshal greeted me in a few loyal words, and proceeded to deliver
an apology from the Duke of Strelsau. The duke, it seemed, had been
afflicted with a sudden i