of those who are working
for us in Theos, and it is good. At the village station of Moschaum
the signals will be against us, and we shall stop. Our task is to
leave the train unseen--it may be difficult, but I have bribed all the
servants, and they are preparing to see nothing. There will be horses
waiting for us--and then--then it will be a gallop for a kingdom."

"The plan seems good enough," Ughtred said, thoughtfully, "and I am in
your hands. But what about Brand?"

Reist shrugged his shoulders.

"He is one of those who love adventure, and I do not think that he can
come to any harm. Let him play out his game. It was his own idea to
personate you, and the risk is his own. Ah!"

There was a sudden slackening of speed. The brakes were on and the
whistle sounding. Reist strolled to the platform of the car as though
to look out, and Ughtred followed him. A conductor unfastened the gate
and slipped away. The train had come to a standstill in a tiny
station, a little wooden building with a cupola, and everywhere
surrounded with a dense forest of pines. Reist looked swiftly round.

"Now," he said. "Follow me."

They slipped from the train on the side remote from the platform, and
in half-a-dozen strides had reached the impenetrable shelter of the
trees. Then there was a whistle. The train crawled onward serpent-like
with its flaring electric lights and the shower of sparks which flew
upwards from the engine. An hour later Ughtred, riding in silence and
at breakneck speed with Reist at his elbow crossed the frontier of his
kingdom.

CHAPTER X

"Prince Ughtred of Tyrnaus."

Brand awoke from a hideous nightmare, sat up on a rude horsehair
couch, and held his head with both hands. He was conscious of a sense
of nausea, burning temples, and a general indisposition to take any
interest in his surroundings. He sank back upon his pillow.

"Oh, rot," he murmured. "Go away, please."

There was a short silence, then footsteps, and the newcomer bent over
the sofa.

"Drink this."

The invitation was alluring. Brand's throat was like a limekiln. He
sat up and took the proffered tumbler into his hands. The liquid was
cold and sparkling--almost magical in its effects. He drained it to
the last drop, and then looked curiously about him.

"Where the mischief am I?" he asked; "and who are you?"

The newcomer stood in the light from the window. He was a short and
thick-set man, with iron-grey hair and black moustac