"Admiralty orders," Lieutenant Maitland said briefly.

"They are here because trouble may break out at any moment. The information I carry is necessary for the interests of your country and my own. I'm an American as I supposed you guessed. You will be thanked by the prime minister for taking me and my information back."

"Why not cable it?" Maitland suggested, "I'll wireless it for you in code."

"I dare not trust it," Trent said emphatically, "and they wouldn't believe it anyhow. Mine is a preposterous story but it's one that your government needs to know. Can't Malta get on without you a little? It won't take long. You fellows travel at forty miles an hour."

"Who is to judge of the importance of the information?" Maitland demanded, "I have to think of that. If you are spoofing me I run the certainty of court martial. Really I think I must beg you to be decently careful in asking this of me."

"That's only fair," Trent agreed. "Does the name of William, Prince of Misselbach, mean anything to you?"

"Only that I went to his funeral when he escaped from that island prison of his and was drowned. I was on the port guard ship at the time. I understand the allied powers breathed a sigh of relief that he had chosen to drown himself."

Anthony Trent pointed to a group of boats at the end of the pier from which he had taken his leap. They were growing distinct in the light.

"Those fellows," said Anthony Trent, accepting one of the officer's cigarettes, "are grappling for my body. They believe I'm dead. Drowned as deep as ever Prince William of Misselbach ever was. You have just as much right to think the prince dead. I've seen him. I know where he's been staying since his escape and I know who is behind the plot to put him on the throne of Hungary. Now, Lieutenant, do we steam back to England or shall I cable it?"

"I'll take a chance and slip back to Portsmouth. What you need is a hot bath and some hotter coffee. By the time you've fed and got into some of my togs we shall be on our way back to fame or court martial."

The lieutenant grinned cheerfully. He was still a boy for all the stern years he had witnessed disaster by sea and land. Also he liked Trent.

It was rather a lark, he thought.

"By the way," said Trent suddenly, "if they wig-wagged you from sh.o.r.e that you were harbouring a man supposed to have stolen a Lion automobile from Count Michael Temesvar the man who is at the bottom of the plot would you feel bound to deliver him up to justice? I ask because I think some sort of police are on the way here now."

"My dear man," said Lieutenant Maitland, "you have the good fortune to be aboard the fastest destroyer on G.o.d's wide waters. Also steam is up and we shall have started before the harbour authorities can get aboard.

If they can overhaul my old dear you may ask me that question again."

When it was certain that Trent had made good his escape the black rage that took hold of Count Michael plunged his household into a distress that showed itself on every troubled face except that of Pauline.

She was not easily able to conceal her joy in Anthony Trent's good fortune. The prophecy of the gipsy that he would escape was fulfilled.

She knew that rage must be eating at the count's heart, a rage compared with which all his other frenzied outbursts were as nothing. As a rule he made Pauline his _confidante_, desiring only that she approve of his behaviour. Twice she had tried to get Hentzi aside and learn what news, if any, had come of the masquerader. Hentzi sullenly turned away from her. She supposed he had been so upset over his master's temper that he was nursing a grievance himself.

She was in her room that night, about to take a gorgeous necklace from her firm white throat, when there was a knock upon the door.

"It is Mr. Hentzi," said her maid.

"Tell him I will not see him," Pauline yawned.

"He has an important message from Count Michael," said the girl.

"Which will wait until tomorrow," Pauline said lazily.

Hentzi's voice made itself heard through the partly opened door.

"I must beg you madame, to come at once. It is imperative. The count must have your advice on matters of importance."

Pauline decided to go. After the silence of the day the count would tell her everything, and she was anxious to be rea.s.sured of Anthony Trent's safety.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded as Hentzi guided her past the big room where Trent had been arraigned, the room from which he had made his escape.

"His Excellency cannot remain in a room with an entire window torn out.

It would but be to invite a flock of bats to enter."

Pauline climbed two little flights of steps which led to the topmost floor of the castle.

"I have never been here before," she commented.

"Few strangers have," he said, locking it behind her.

"Strangers!" she repeated, "since when have I been a stranger?"

She found nothing strange in his silence. Hentzi was constantly a prey to the fear he might by some over zealous action provoke the wrath of the man he served. Probably he had not heard her question.

She found Count Michael in a big bare room, octagonal in shape and knew it must be the tower which stood out boldly on the western corner of the castle.

"Why bring me here?" she said petulantly.

She had no fear of the man who ruled his people as an autocrat. It is not in the nature of such women as Pauline to eliminate a certain feeling of contempt for the power of men whom they can sway by whim and artifice. Michael, Count Temesvar, was terrible to such as he hated, and a political force of sinister strength, but to the green eyed woman who looked at him mockingly he was one of the weak and pliable p.a.w.ns on life's board.

"Sit down," he said suavely. There was no sudden look of affection as he gazed at her. He spoke, she reflected, very much as he had done to Anthony Trent. But the ex-chauffeur had been a prisoner. She looked about her and saw that this was almost a prison.

"About this Alfred Anthony," he began. "I am told, although I do not believe it, that you were much concerned for his safety."

"Who told you that?" she demanded.

"What matters that? It is untrue?"

"Naturally," she answered, trying to fathom what lay behind his smiling face.

"Tell me this Pauline," he said leaning forward, "when the Sissek woman informed us that he had escaped I thought I heard you say 'Thank G.o.d.'

Why did you thank G.o.d when my enemy escaped?"

Pauline was not so easily to be trapped. She remembered breathing her prayer almost at his ear but she hoped in the excitement he had not heard.

"You are dreaming Michael," she exclaimed. "Why should I say that?"

"Another thing," the count went on. "This man would hardly have escaped if the electric lights had not gone out." Abruptly the count turned to Hentzi. "Tell me, did you see the engineer about this?"

"Yes, Excellency," Hentzi a.s.sured him, "He tells me in technical terms which I do not comprehend that sometimes the light goes off for a few moments. It was the thunder storm or some atmospherical condition. I do not remember."

"Heaven seems to fight for him," Count Michael commented. "First the lights extinguished and then someone in this house of mine who gives him keys and aids his escape. The garage door opens itself to him and lo, he disappears."

"He has an accomplice you think, Excellency?" Hentzi stammered. He was fearful that his master had learned of his carrying the book to the prisoner. Out of this slender fact the wrathful count might be weaving plot enough to engulf his faithful secretary. "I a.s.sure your Excellency," Hentzi cried, "that I am entirely loyal."

Pauline was still not to be frightened by this changed mood of the count and the agitation expressed on his secretary's face. She had been victor over him in a hundred violent scenes and Pauline loved violence and the raising of voices.