e woman who held him saw only a flame leap
under his dense black lashes.

But something within him called out. It was as if he heard it. It was
that strong self--the self that was Marco, and it called--it called as
if it shouted.

"Help!" it called--to that Unknown Stranger Thing which had made worlds
and which he and his father so often talked of and in whose power they
so believed. "Help!"

The Chancellor was drawing nearer. Perhaps! Should he--?

"You are too proud to kick and shout," the voice went on. "And people
would only laugh. Do you see?"

The stairs were crowded and the man who was at the head of them could
only move slowly. But he had seen the boy.

Marco turned so that he could face his captor squarely as if he were
going to say something in answer to her. But he was not.

Even as he made the movement of turning, the help he had called for
came and he knew what he should do. And he could do two things at
once--save himself and give his Sign--because, the Sign once given, the
Chancellor would understand.

"He will be here in a moment. He has recognized you," the woman said.

As he glanced up the stairs, the delicate grip of her hand
unconsciously slackened.

Marco whirled away from her. The bell rang which was to warn the
audience that they must return to their seats and he saw the Chancellor
hasten his pace.

A moment later, the old aristocrat found himself amazedly looking down
at the pale face of a breathless lad who spoke to him in German and in
such a manner that he could not but pause and listen.

"Sir," he was saying, "the woman in violet at the foot of the stairs is
a spy. She trapped me once and she threatens to do it again. Sir, may
I beg you to protect me?"

He said it low and fast. No one else could hear his words.

"What! What!" the Chancellor exclaimed.

And then, drawing a step nearer and quite as low and rapidly but with
perfect distinctness, Marco uttered four words:

"The Lamp is lighted."

The Help cry had been answered instantly. Marco saw it at once in the
old man's eyes, notwithstanding that he turned to look at the woman at
the foot of the staircase as if she only concerned him.

"What! What!" he said again, and made a movement toward her, pulling
his large moustache with a fierce hand.

Then Marco recognized that a curious thing happened. The Lovely Person
saw the movement and the gray moustache, and that instant her smile
died away and she tu