f the Terrorists.

On the second day she made a desperate resolve, and characteristically
put it into execution at once. She sent for the caretaker. When he came,
uneasy, for the Loscheks were justly feared in the country side, and
even the thing of which he knew gave him small courage, she lost no time
in evasion.

"Go," she said; "and bring here your accomplice--"

"My accomplice, madame! I do not--"

"You heard me," she said.

He turned, half sullen, half terrified, and paused. "Which do you refer
to, madame?"

She had seen only the one. Then there were others. Who could tell how
many others?

"The one who drove here."

So he went, leaving her to desperate reflection. When he returned, it
was to usher in the heavy figure of the spy.

"Which of you is in authority?" she demanded.

"I, madame." It was the spy who spoke.

She dismissed the caretaker with a gesture.

"Have you any discretion over me? Or must you refer matters to those who
sent you?"

"I must refer to them."

"How long will it take to send a message and receive a reply?"

He considered. "Until to-morrow night, madame."

Another day gone, then, and nothing determined!

"Now, listen," she said, "and listen carefully. I have come here to
decide a certain question. Whether you know what that question is or
not, does not matter. But before I decide it I must take a certain
journey. I wish to make that journey. It is into Karnia."

She watched him. "It is impossible. My instructions--"

"I am not asking your permission. I wish to send a letter to the
Committee. They, and they alone, will determine this thing. Will you
send the letter?"

When he hesitated, perplexed, she got up and moved to her writing-table.

"I shall write the letter," she said haughtily. "See that it is sent.
When I report at the end of the time that I have sent such a letter, you
can judge better than I the result if it has not been received."

He was still dubious, but she wrote the letter and gave it to him, her
face proud and scornful. But she was not easy, for all that, and she
watched from her balcony to see if any messenger left the castle and
descended the mountain road. She was rewarded, an hour later, by seeing
a figure leave the old gateway and start afoot toward the village, a
pale-faced man with colorless hair. A part of the hidden guard that
surrounded her, she knew, and somehow familiar. But, although she racked
her brains, she could not remember wh