u do not accede to my wishes the order of the Austrian
military court that sentenced you to death at Burgova will be
carried out in the morning."

With his final words the two men turned and left the room. Behind
them, upon the floor, inarticulate with terror, knelt Leopold of
Lutha, his hands outstretched in supplication.

The long night wore its weary way to dawn at last. The sleepless
man, alternately tossing upon his bed and pacing the floor, looked
fearfully from time to time at the window through which the
lightening of the sky would proclaim the coming day and his last
hour on earth. His windows faced the west. At the foot of the hill
beneath the castle nestled the village of Blentz, once more
enveloped in peaceful silence since the Austrians were gone.

An unmistakable lessening of the darkness in the east had just
announced the proximity of day, when the king heard a clatter of
horses' hoofs upon the road before the castle. The sound ceased at
the gates and a loud voice broke out upon the stillness of the dying
night demanding entrance "in the name of the king."

New hope burst aflame in the breast of the condemned man. The
impostor had not forsaken him. Leopold ran to the window, leaning
far out. He heard the voices of the sentries in the barbican as they
conversed with the newcomers. Then silence came, broken only by the
rapid footsteps of a soldier hastening from the gate to the castle.
His hobnail shoes pounding upon the cobbles of the courtyard echoed
among the angles of the lofty walls. When he had entered the castle
the silence became oppressive. For five minutes there was no sound
other than the pawing of the horses outside the barbican and the
subdued conversation of their riders.

Presently the soldier emerged from the castle. With him was an
officer. The two went to the barbican. Again there was a parley
between the horsemen and the guard. Leopold could hear the officer
demanding terms. He would lower the drawbridge and admit them upon
conditions.

One of these the king overheard--it concerned an assurance of full
pardon for Peter of Blentz and the garrison; and again Leopold heard
the officer addressing someone as "your majesty."

Ah, the impostor was there in person. Ach, Gott! How Leopold of
Lutha hated him, and yet, in the hands of this American lay not only
his throne but his very life as well.

Evidently the negotiations proved unsuccessful for after a time the
party wheeled th