e justice which must be settled by her hand.

"When?" Josef's tone ridiculed the sentence imposed.

"At dawn," she answered, her scornful glance sweeping his colorless
face.

For the first time, his aspect was nearly that of a man. He held his
head erect, the cringe disappeared from his back, the obsequiousness
from his manner. Then while an eye might wink, he took on the appearance
of a snake with high-held head--about to strike.

"In about one hour," he boldly asserted, "the troops of His Imperial
Majesty will have surrounded, yes, and entered this place. If harm comes
to me, you all shall swing. Schallberg, Lore, Bagos are already ours.
What," he continued with a comprehensive sneer, including all present,
"did you think that you had conquered the Bear so handily?"

They felt it was the unwelcome truth he was speaking. All day the
distant booming of guns had sounded in their ears as the "death bells"
ring for the superstitious gude-wife.

"All last night as you laughed and danced," Josef continued, "a Russian
army, unchallenged, passed your gates, and could have taken you all.
Knowing that it had you safe when needed, it pushed on to the bigger
game, the capture of your capital. At daybreak it began battering down
those walls you thought you held so firmly."

The wrath, gathering in a purple cloud on Sutphen's brow, now broke into
a storm. "He must have known," he said pointing at the pseudo-king. "He
appointed you officer of the day," and the outraged Colonel wheeled
about on Josef, who scarcely deigned a smile of commiseration for such
ignorance.

"He knew nothing," he finally volunteered. "I brought him here so that
if Russia won, I could save my dupe. If Krovitch won, a true revelation
of his real status would make him my debtor for life."

"Why?" Sobieska asked amid a stillness freighted with the prophecy of a
startling revelation. All held their breath as Josef, turning slowly
from countenance to countenance, read the disdain which he inspired.

"He has kissed you," he said pointing a bony finger at Trusia, "and
would have married you." Her face crimsoned at the memory of that
betrothal salute, formal and public as it had been. Waiting until the
scene had time to rise before her eyes, he continued that by no chance
should the import of his words be missed, "He is my son." The pride of
the parent snake was in the eyes that he turned upon the Parisian, who
turned his head away, ashamed of such regard.