"As plain as ABC!" she answered.

"You think...?"

"Yes, I've been thinking ever since you first told me the story. Now I'm going to load my revolver with those thoughts, and earn the t.i.tle of my profession. Time is everything. I take the northern road, don't I?"

"Yes, and the second turn to the right, through a broken wall."

"Yes, you've told me all this a dozen times before. But it's life and death, and I want to make sure. What then?"

"That road leads to the postern gate at the top of the hill," she added.

The outer door had opened softly.

Its position, sheltered under the long sweep of the old balcony, was out of their immediate view.

They had been speaking in rapid English, but the man who slouched noiselessly through the entrance, toward the arch under the stairs, surmised the gist of the conversation.

He drew a revolver, well hidden in the shadow, and waited.

"I understand. I have my bearings, too."

Warren stepped down, to the level of the floor.

"Wait," said Maria Theresa softly. "This little cross--it is a token which I wish my knight to wear in the tourney--to-night!"

She slipped the golden chain, and the simple religious emblem, over his head and about his neck, with a movement which was a wireless touchless caress.

"Only for to-night?" asked the Kentuckian, as he looked squarely into the crimson face above him;--how the roses and lilies played hide-and-seek beneath the soft skin of those clear features!

"You may never see to-morrow," she murmured, and she drew up the cross, from its pendent position, pressing it to her red lips with reverence.

The American spirit cried out within for honest self-expression.

"Then, if I never see to-morrow, forgive me for telling you to-night that I love you."

She would have spoken, but he raised his hand for silence.

Beneath the archway the shadowed figure drew nearer, slipping into the sharp angle behind the stairs.

"Do not rebuke me to-night--wait until to-morrow--if to-morrow ever comes!"

He paused, and still she was silent--except for the soft music of her breathing--that regal bosom so close to his own upturned face!

"And now your humble va.s.sal goes forth in his liege-lady's name and cause, and, while all Seguro waits, Ghost and Ghost Breaker shall stalk those haunted, melancholy halls!"

Again they looked into each other's eyes.

"Your Highness, within the hour I shall hang the signal of victory within the window of the castle!"

He carried her hand to his lips, even as he had done on the memorable night so far across the waters. But this time the fingers were burning, and the slim flower of a hand was not drawn away!

"G.o.d be with you!" she answered softly, and crossed herself. The Kentuckian watched her silently, a thousand mad thoughts whirling behind the calm and resolute brow. She slowly ascended the stairs and returned to her room.

He murmured tenderly under his breath:

"Highness ... Highness ... now, I understand how t.i.tles fit!"

A new noise came to his ears, and he listened without a tremor or movement of his body.

It was the click of a revolver c.o.c.k!

The Kentuckian knew this sound too well to be deceived. Slowly he turned about, toward the large table on which stood the solitary oil lamp of the room.

He began to unfold his overcoat, which had been hanging over his left arm. Then he started whistling the first rippling bars of that good old Southern battle-song "Dixie."

Slowly he walked toward the lamp, apparently examining his overcoat.

The man drew out from the shelter of the arch, and the revolver was pointed straight at his back.

Suddenly the overcoat flew from the American's hands, covering and extinguishing the gla.s.s lamp, which fell with a crash in the darkness.

There was a portentous pause--it seemed hours; its length was the bare fraction of a second.

Two shots rang out, and scurrying feet were the only indication of life within the room. Another shot sent its tongue of blood-thirsty flame into the black void. There was a groan of anguish.

Then footsteps advanced to the door.

The cheery tune of "Dixie" was continued in the moonlight!

XVI

AS IN DAYS OF OLD

"Rusty! You lazy c.o.o.n! Get on that horse of yours and hike along to the castle. See--the moon is helping us!"

"Ya.s.sir. I was jest finishin' another hunk of po'k-chops dat I forgot an' put in my pocket. Won't you have a bite?"

"No. I want to eat up something worse than pork to-night," and Jarvis swung into the saddle with the lithe skill acquired from childhood days on the backs of Blue-Gra.s.s thoroughbreds.

"What was dat gun-play, Ma.r.s.e Warren?" asked Rusty, after he had calculated that they had ridden a respectful distance for inquiries.

Rusty had a certain inherited pride!

Jarvis laughed, and the dull glow of his cigarette tip was discernible.