For some time the king remained silent. He was
thinking. He realized that it lay in the power
of the American to do precisely what he had threatened
to do. No one would doubt his identity. Even
Peter of Blentz had not recognized the real king despite
Leopold’s repeated and hysterical claims.
Lieutenant Butzow, the American’s best friend,
had no more suspected the exchange of identities.
Von der Tann, too, must have been deceived. Everyone
had been deceived. There was no hope that the
people, who really saw so little of their king, would
guess the deception that was being played upon them.
Leopold groaned. Barney opened his eyes and turned
toward him.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“I will sign the release and the sanction of
her highness’ marriage to you,” said the
king.
“Good!” exclaimed the American.
“You will then go at once to Brosnov as originally
planned. I will return to Lustadt and get her
highness, and we will immediately leave Lutha via Brosnov.
There you and I will effect a change of raiment, and
you will ride back to Lustadt with the small guard
that accompanies her highness and me to the frontier.”
“Why do you not remain in Lustadt?” asked
the king. “You could as well be married
there as elsewhere.”
“Because I don’t trust your majesty,”
replied the American. “It must be done
precisely as I say or not at all. Are you agreeable?”
The king assented with a grumpy nod.
“Then get up and write as I dictate,”
said Barney. Leopold of Lutha did as he was
bid. The result was two short, crisply worded
documents. At the bottom of each was the signature
of Leopold of Lutha. Barney took the two papers
and carefully tucked them beneath his pillow.
“Now let’s sleep,” he said.
“It is getting late and we both need the rest.
In the morning we have long rides ahead of us.
Good night.”
The king did not respond. In a short time Barney
was fast asleep. The light still burned.
“The king’s will is
law”
The Blentz princess frowned down upon the king and
impostor impartially from her great gilt frame.
It must have been close to midnight that the painting
moved—just a fraction of an inch. Then
it remained motionless for a time. Again it moved.
This time it revealed a narrow crack at its edge.
In the crack an eye shone.
One of the sleepers moved. He opened his eyes.
Stealthily he raised himself on his elbow and gazed
at the other across the apartment. He listened
intently. The regular breathing of the sleeper
proclaimed the soundness of his slumber. Gingerly
the man placed one foot upon the floor. The eye
glued to the crack at the edge of the great, gilt
frame of the Blentz princess remained fastened upon
him. He let his other foot slip to the floor beside
the first. Carefully he raised himself until he
stood erect upon the floor. Then, on tiptoe he
started across the room.
