PTER XIV. NIKKY DOES A RECKLESS THING

Nikky Larisch had been having an exciting time. First of all, he
exchanged garments with the chauffeur, and cursed his own long legs,
which proved difficult to cover adequately. But the chauffeur's long fur
ulster helped considerably. The exchange was rather a ticklish matter,
and would have been more so had he not found a revolver in the fur coat
pocket. It is always hard to remove a coat from a man whose arms are
tied, and trousers are even more difficult. To remove trousers from a
refractory prisoner offers problems. They must be dragged off, and a
good thrust from a heavy boot, or two boots, has been known to change
the fate of nations.

However, Nikky's luck stood. His prisoner kicked, but owing to Nikky's
wise precaution of having straddled him, nothing untoward happened.

Behold, then, Nikky of the brave heart standing over his prostrate
prisoner, and rolling him, mummy fashion, in his own tunic and a rug
from the machine.

"It is cold, my friend," he said briefly; "but I am a kindly soul, and
if you have told me the truth, you will not have so much as a snuffle to
remind you of this to-morrow."

"I have told the truth."

"As a soldier, of course," Nikky went on, "I think you have made
a mistake. You should have chosen the precipice. But as a private
gentleman, I thank you."

Having examined the knots in the rope, which were very well done,
indeed, and having gagged the chauffeur securely, Nikky prepared to go.
In his goggles, with the low-visored cap and fur coat, he looked not
unlike his late companion. But he had a jaunty step as he walked toward
the car, a bit of swagger that covered, perhaps, just a trifle of
uneasiness.

For Nikky now knew his destination, knew that he was bound on perilous
work, and that the chances of his returning were about fifty-fifty, or
rather less.

Nevertheless, he was apparently quite calm as he examined the car.
He would have chosen, perhaps, a less perilous place to attempt its
mysteries, but needs must. He climbed in, and released the brakes. Then,
with great caution, and considerable noise, he worked it away from the
brink of the chasm, and started off.

He did not know his way. Over the mountains it was plain enough, for
there was but one road. After he descended into the plain of Karnia,
however, it became difficult. Sign-posts were few and not explicit. But
at last he found the railroad, which he knew well--that railroad