some be less pleasant than others it is no
excuse for not fulfilling them to the uttermost. We have a hard day
before us. With His Majesty's permission, therefore, I will retire for
the night." She arose as she said this, so Carter had no other
alternative than to follow her into the royal presence.

From a balcony at the far end of the room, crept a faint note of music.
The players were carefully concealed behind banked palms and gigantic
ferns. To the surprised ears of those unaware of their presence it came
first as a single note, then a chord, a stave, a vibrant meaning. It was
like a distant bugle call across a midnight plain. It swelled into a
challenge.

Then, echoing the hoof beats of horses, it swept into a glorious charge.
All the invisible instruments crashed valorously into their fullest
sounds. The arteries of the listeners throbbed a response to its
inspiration. Trusia, her eyes gleaming like twin stars, laid her hand
softly on the royal arm.

"Oh, sire," she cried, "it is our nation's battle song."

Carter sighed. He saw that her loyalty would hold her to an alliance
against her heart.

Possessed by the ardor of the song, the nobles, drawing their swords,
cried in ecstatic chorus, "For Krovitch! For Krovitch!" In their
pandemonium of joy, Carter's distress was unnoted.

He could not longer endure the sight of the prophetic association; it
seemed as if they were receiving nuptial felicitations as they stood
there side by side, so with a heavy heart he crept up to his own
apartment, where, at least, without stint, he could indulge his
thoughts. After the brilliance of the salon, the single light in his
room seemed puling and weak, so he crossed over and extinguished it. In
doing so, he found himself near the window, which, opening to the floor,
door wise, looked along the roof of the stone porch. A cooling sweep of
moonlight fell on Carter's face and urged him to peace of soul. He never
noticed the soft indulgence of Diana, for, as he glanced streetward, he
recalled the incident of Josef and the stranger. Drawing an easy-chair
into the zone of moonlight he lit a cigar and strove desperately to find
a clue.

"Two fingers--that means two something, at first glance. Has it any
further significance?" he pondered. "Of course it was prearranged, when
and how--and does Sobieska know? If he doesn't, Josef has correspondents
unknown to Krovitch--that alone looks dangerous. I'll look up Sobieska.
It's now tw