Sagan considered a second or two.

'True, I had forgotten. Come here, Unziar; your trooper there has long ears; I must speak with you. Stand back, men!' he said roughly. 'Baron von Elmur, pray remain, and you, Hern,' addressing the man behind.

Unziar still stood upon the step.

'Come here! I tell you, man, I must see the Duke to-night--at once,'

continued Sagan approaching Unziar. 'What the devil are you afraid of?'

Unziar stepped down as the Count pulled him confidentially nearer to himself and towards the narrow entry. But while the Count whispered, a hand suddenly darted over his shoulder and seized Unziar by the throat, at the same moment when a well-directed kick from Sagan, delivered cunningly behind the knees, brought the young man to the ground. He lunged at Sagan as he fell with his sword, then it was knocked from his hand as his a.s.sailants swarmed over him, but not before he had fired his revolver into Hern's body. The man fell across him, but Unziar again swinging clear rose on his elbow and sent a second shot into the face nearest him. Meantime the trooper at the door was making a gallant fight, but the odds were too great. The struggle was soon over, the trooper's dead body flung aside, and Unziar, frantic and helpless, was tied hand and foot and left upon the b.l.o.o.d.y flooring of the outer pa.s.sage while the Count's people forced the door.

This was a matter of some difficulty, but it was presently accomplished.

The besieging party pushed through into the guard-room, which seemed brilliantly lit in comparison with the gloom outside.

Most of the furniture and the screen had been utilised by Rallywood to make a barricade in front of the Duke's ante-room. A single trooper with his musket levelled knelt behind it.

Sagan, who held a handkerchief to his cheek, spoke loudly.

'Do you see who I am? Clear the way!'

At this Rallywood stepped into view from behind the screen.

'The man acts under orders from his Highness, my lord,' he said.

Sagan stared at Rallywood with haughty scorn.

'It is of the utmost importance that I should see his Highness at once.

Inform his Highness that I urgently beg to be granted an interview.'

'With pleasure, my lord,' returned Rallywood formally, 'if you will be good enough to give me the pa.s.sword, without which it is quite impossible for anyone to have an audience to-night. Our orders were very distinct on that point.'

'His Highness could not foresee that I'--the Count dwelt upon the p.r.o.noun imperiously--'should desire one. Stand back, Captain Rallywood!

I must pa.s.s and am willing to take the responsibility.'

'It is quite impossible, my lord,' repeated Rallywood without moving.

'You force me to extreme measures,' cried Sagan. 'Remove this man,' he ordered, 'as quietly as may be. We must not alarm his Highness.'

There was a clatter of arms as Sagan's followers advanced. The foremost of them ran in upon Rallywood, the swords met, Rallywood's sleeve was ripped from wrist to elbow, but his sword blade pa.s.sed through his opponent's shoulder. The man sank down in a sitting posture, coughing oddly; his head dropped forward.

'Shoot them down!' shouted Sagan, but the words were still on his lips when the door behind John Rallywood slowly opened and a figure stood beside him.

Its appearance checked the rising struggle, for the figure was the figure of the Grand Duke of Maasau. He was wrapped in his hooded robe of green velvet, and the five points of the golden star of Maasau blazed upon his breast.

'Cousin, I would speak with you, but these fools stopped me,' exclaimed Sagan.

The Duke turned his shadowed face and spoke to Rallywood in a low voice.

'His Highness begs you, my lord, to withdraw your men,' said Rallywood aloud.

Sagan, scowling, ordered his men to the further end of the long room.

Meantime Rallywood, with evident unwillingness, pulled away a portion of the barricade. Through this the Duke advanced with a stately deliberation, and walked slowly up to the Count.

With a sudden hoa.r.s.e shout of triumph Sagan flung his great arms about the Duke's body.

'By St. Anthony, Gustave, no one shall stop our conversation now!'

The Duke made no attempt to release himself from the rough hug that held him prisoner. He merely raised his hood with one hand, so that Sagan, his coa.r.s.e mouth still wide in laughter, could stare into the countenance not four inches from his own.

Consternation and fury swept over the Count's features. From under the hood a red challenging face, a big white moustache, and s.h.a.ggy-browed humorous eyes met his gaze. The sight held him gaping. But only for a second. Then he whipped out his pistol.

'An English plot, by Heaven!'

But Rallywood was quicker still. A sharp knock on the Count's wrist sent the bullet into the ceiling.

'Have a care, my lord,' Counsellor said authoritatively. 'You cannot do as you will even in this lonely and remote room in your lonely Castle of Sagan, since England and--' with a bow towards Elmur--'Germany are looking on.'

Sagan still threatened Counsellor with the revolver.

'Can you see any reason why I should not kill you as a traitor to my country at this moment, Major Counsellor?' he shouted.

'Only one, my lord. Russia also, in the person of M. Blivinski, knows where I am, and is awaiting my return to arrange for our journey to Revonde--which we propose to make in each other's company,' replied Counsellor pointedly.

Sagan burst into his habitual storm of curses.

'Your nation have well been called perfidious, Major Counsellor. A stab in the back----'

'Why no, my lord,' said Counsellor; 'our greatest vice is admittedly that we are always well in front!'

'Come, Baron, have you nothing to say to this?' Sagan asked, ready to spring at his friends in his torment of baffled rage.

'Nothing, my lord. You will remember I am here to-night entirely at your request.'

Sagan's laugh was not altogether a pleasant one.

'Put it how you like, Monsieur, I should not have been here either but for you!'

Elmur stood with folded arms. To stoop to recriminations before the common enemy! The cause was lost for the moment, but there was the future, and in that future the fool who figured as his ally should become his slave! Germany had, after all, gained something in gaining the knowledge of British designs afoot.

'Then his Highness refuses to see me, although he can give audience to--you?' the Count at length broke the silence.

'On the contrary, my lord, he looks forward to the pleasure of meeting you to-morrow. That is the message with which I am charged. Captain Rallywood, his Highness wishes Lieutenant Unziar to attend him.'

Count Simon made a sign to his men, and a moment later Unziar stalked into the room, maddened by the outrage put upon him.

'My sword, Count Sagan,' he said huskily.

'Your sword! Is it lost?' returned the Count with an angry sneer. 'In my day it was not the custom of the guard to lose their swords!'

'When I saw it last it was sticking in your cheek, my lord,' said the young man with a studied insolence, pointing to a bleeding cut on the Count's face.