ean by this tomfoolery?" he said darkly. "You know
quite well that she's in there."

"What--is she? Has she run away from you then?"

Lars Peter took another glass. "She's locked up, and you know
it--curse you!" He put the glass down heavily on the table.

The landlord saw it was no good pretending ignorance. "I think I do
remember hearing something about it," said he. "How was it--got into
trouble with the law somehow?"

The rag and bone man gave a hollow laugh. "I should think so! She
killed her own mother, 'tis said." The spirit was beginning to
affect him.

"Dear, dear! was it so bad as that?" sighed the inn-keeper, turning
and twisting as if he had a pain inside. "And now you're going to
the King, I suppose?"

Lars Peter lifted his head. "To the King?" he asked. The thought
struck him, perhaps this was the miracle he had been hoping for.

"Ay, the King decides whether it's to be life or death, you know. If
there's any one he can't stand looking at, he only says: 'Take that
fellow and chop off his head!' And he can let folk loose again too,
if he likes."

"And how's the likes of me to get near the King?" The rag and bone
man laughed hopelessly.

"Oh, that's easily done," said the inn-keeper airily. "Every one in
the country has the right to see the King. When you get in there,
just ask where he lives, any one can tell you."

"Hm, I know that myself," said Lars Peter with assurance. "I was
once nearly taken for the guards myself--for the palace. If it
hadn't been for having flat feet, then----"

"Well, it isn't quite as easy as you think; he's got so many
mansions. The King's got no-one to associate with, you see, as
there's only one King in every land, and talk to his wife always, no
man could stand--the King as little as we others. That's why he gets
bored, and moves from one castle to another, and plays at making a
visitor of himself. So you'd better make inquiries. 'Twouldn't come
amiss to get some one to speak for you either. You've got money, I
suppose?"

"I've got goods on the cart for over a hundred crowns," said Lars
Peter with pride.

"That's all right, because in the Capital nearly all the doors need
oiling before they are opened. Maybe the castle gate will creak a
little, but then----" The inn-keeper rubbed one palm against the
other.

"Then we'll oil it," said Lars Peter, with a wave of his arm as he
got up.

He had plenty of courage now, and hummed as he harnessed the horse
and go