o
frighten me off. You see, Miss Platanova, I'm actually looking for
something dangerous--if that's what you mean."

"That isn't all, believe me," she pleaded. "You can gain nothing by
coming. You know who I am. I cannot be a friend--not even an
acquaintance to you, Mr. King. Good-bye! Please do not come again!"

She slipped into the street and was gone. King stood in the doorway,
looking after her, a puzzled gleam in his eyes. Old Spantz was coming up
from the rear, followed by his customer.

"Queer," thought the American. "She's changed her tactics rather
suddenly. Smiled at me in the beginning and now cries a bit because I'm
trying to return the compliment. Well, by the Lord Harry, she shan't
scare me off like--Hello, Mr. Spantz! Good morning! I'm here for the
sword."

The old man glared at him in unmistakable displeasure. Truxton began
counting out his money. The customer, a swarthy fellow, passed out of
the door, turning to glance intently at the young man. A meaning look
and a sly nod passed between him and Spantz. The man halted at the
corner below and, later on, followed King to Cook's office, afterward to
the Castle gates, outside of which he waited until his quarry
reappeared. Until King went to bed late that night this swarthy fellow
was close at his heels, always keeping well out of sight himself.

"I'll come in soon to look at those rings," said King, placing the notes
on the counter. Spantz merely nodded, raked in the bills without
counting them, and passed the sword over to the purchaser.

"Very good, sir," he growled after a moment.

"I hate to carry this awful thing through the streets," said King,
looking at the huge weapon with despairing eye. Inwardly, he was cursing
himself for his extravagance and cupidity.

"It belongs to you, my friend. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it," said Truxton, smiling indulgently. With that he picked
up the weapon and stalked away.

A few minutes later he was on his way to the Castle grounds, accompanied
by the short-legged Mr. Hobbs, who, from time to time, was forced to
remove his tight-fitting cap to mop a hot, exasperated brow, so swift
was the pace set by long-legs. The broadsword reposed calmly on a desk
under the nose of a properly impressed young person named Stokes,
cashier.

Hobbs led him through the great Park gates and up to the lodge of Jacob
Fraasch, the venerable high steward of the grounds. Here, to King's utter
disgust, he was booked as