The priest turned to cross the track, and almost fell. Mark sprang to support him. The relief train came in and another priest alighted, with a Protestant clergyman, and the surgeons and nurses.

"It's all right, Father," said Father Murray to his confrere. "I found them all and gave absolution. I'm afraid that I am tired. There are many of your people, too," he said, turning to the Protestant clergyman. "I wish I were able to go back and show--"

He was tired. They carried him into the relief train, unconscious.

The young priest and the Protestant clergyman came frequently to look at him as the train sped on toward Baltimore. But there was no cause for alarm; Father Murray was only overcome by his efforts and the blow.

In half an hour he was helping again, Mark and Saunders watching closely, in fear that he might lift the blanket that covered the face of Ruth Atheson.

When Father Murray came to where she had been placed in the train, Mark put his hand on the priest's arm.

"Don't, please, Father. She is dead--one of the two you saw lying on the other side when you came over."

"Yes, I know. But I should like to see." Father Murray started to raise the cloth, but again Mark stopped him.

"Please do not look, Father."

The deep sadness in Mark's voice caused the priest to stare at him with widely opened eyes. A look of fear came into them as he glanced at the covered body. For the first time he seemed afraid, and Saunders drew near to catch him. But he did not fall.

"I think--Mark--that I will look. I can drink of the chalice--if it must be--I am sure I can. Don't be afraid for me, my friend. Draw the blanket back."

But Mark could not.

Father Murray pushed him gently aside and lifted the covering reverently and slowly. He dropped it with a faint gasp as the face stood revealed. Then he leaned over the dead girl and searched the features for a full half minute, that seemed an age to Mark. The priest's lips moved, but Mark caught only a few words: "I thank Thee for sparing me, Lord."

He caught the end of the blanket and once more covered the dead face.

Then he turned and faced Mark and Saunders.

"G.o.d rest her. It is not Ruth."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "G.o.d rest her," Father Murray said after what seemed an age to Mark; "it is not Ruth!"]

Mark stared bewildered. Had the priest's, mind been affected by the blow, and the subsequent excitement? Father Murray sensed what was going on in Mark's mind.

"Can't you trust me, Mark? I know that the likeness is marvelous--"

"Likeness?" gasped Mark. But there was a whole world of hope in his voice.

"Yes, my friend--likeness. I--" the priest hesitated--"I knew her well. It is not Ruth."

CHAPTER XV

"I AM NOT THE d.u.c.h.eSS!"

A long, low-built limousine kept pa.s.sing and repa.s.sing the Ministry, and taking excursions to the parks, in an evident effort to kill time.

At last, the street being well clear of pedestrians and vehicles, the car drew up in front of the house, the door of which was quickly thrown open. The chauffeur descended and opened the door of the car, but said nothing. A man stepped out backward.

"We have arrived, Your Highness," he said to someone within. "Will you walk across the path to the door, or will you force us again to be disrespectful in carrying out our orders?"

From within a girl's voice answered:

"You need not fear; I shall make no outcry."

"The word of Your Highness is given. It would be painful for us to be disrespectful again. Come."

The girl who stepped out of the car was unmistakably Ruth Atheson.

Behind her came a raw-boned, muscular woman, and a powerful-looking man.

As she was hurried between the tall stone gateposts and up the cement walk, Ruth had but little time to observe her surroundings; but her eyes were quick, and she saw that the house she was about to enter was set some twenty feet back in quiet roomy grounds bordered by an ornamental stone wall. Distinguishing the house from its neighbors was a narrow veranda extending for some distance across the front, its slender columns rising to such a height that the flat roof, lodged with stone, formed a balcony easily accessible from the second floor. To one side, between the wall and the house, was a large tree whose foliage, loath to leave the swaying boughs, defied the autumn breeze.

Before she had time to observe more, the party entered the Ministry; the door was closed quickly, and Ruth's companions stood respectfully aside. His Excellency was already coming down the steps, and met her at the foot of the stairs. Bowing low, he kissed the white hand before Ruth could prevent.

"We are highly honored by the presence of Your Highness."

With another low bow he stood aside, and Ruth pa.s.sed up the stairs.

His Excellency conducted her into the room wherein the conference regarding her had been held only a few days before.

"Your Highness--" he began.

But Ruth interrupted him. "I do not understand your language."

The Minister rubbed his hands, smiled, and, still using the foreign language, said, "I am surprised that Your Highness should have forgotten your native tongue during such a short sojourn in America."

Ruth spoke somewhat haughtily.

"I think, Your Excellency, that I know who you are--and also why I am here. Permit me to tell you that you have made a serious blunder. I am not the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Carlotta."

The Minister smiled again, and started to speak. But Ruth again interrupted him.

"Pardon me, Your Excellency, but if you insist upon talking to me, I must again request that you speak a language I can understand. I have already told you that I do not understand what you say."

The Minister still kept his smile, and still rubbed his hands, but this time he spoke in English.

"It shall be as Your Highness wishes. It is your privilege to choose the language of conversation. We will speak in English, although your own tongue would perhaps be better."

"My own tongue," said Ruth, "is the language that I am using; and again I must inform Your Excellency that I am not the Grand d.u.c.h.ess. You have simply been guilty of abduction. You have taken the wrong person."

For answer the Minister went over to the mantel and picked up a portrait, which he extended toward the girl.

"I know," said Ruth, "I know. Many times in Europe I have been subjected to annoyance because of the resemblance. I know the Grand d.u.c.h.ess very well, but my name is Ruth Atheson."

The tolerant smile never left the face of the Minister.

"Your Highness shall have it as you wish. I am satisfied with the resemblance. Since you left San Sebastian there has been scarcely a minute that you have not been under surveillance. It is true that you were lost for a little while in Boston, but not completely. We traced you to Siha.s.set. We traced _him_ there also finally--unfortunately for the poor fellow."

Ruth started: "You have not--"

The Minister looked sad. "Alas! Highness," he said, "he is no more---an unfortunate accident. We do not even know where his body is.