His hand came in contact with a heavy hanging or tapestry, and he quickly squirmed behind its folds, finding himself against a door which moved as his body touched it.  He felt it swing open slightly and drew back, intending to return to the hall, uncertain and very much undecided as to the course to pursue.  His revolver was in his hand.  Just as he was about to pull aside the curtain a man glided past, quickly followed by another.  Providence had kept him from running squarely into them.  They were going toward the left, and he realized that they were now approaching the Princess’s room.  How he came to be ahead of them he could not imagine.  Strange trembling seized his legs, so great was the relief after the narrow escape.  Again he felt the door move slightly as he pressed against it.  The necessity for a partial recovery of his composure before the next and most important step, impelled him softly to enter the room for an instant’s breath.

Holding to the door he stood inside and drew himself to his full height, taking a long and tremulous breath.  There was no light in the room, but through the door crack to his left came a dim, broad streak.  He now knew where he was.  This room was next to that in which the Princess slept, for had he not seen the light from her window?  Perhaps he was now in the room of the Countess Dagniar.  Next door!  Next door!  Even now the daring Geddos and Ostrom were crawling towards the bed of the ruler of Graustark, not twenty feet away.  His first impulse was to cross and open the door leading to the next room, surmising that it would be unlocked, but he remembered Anguish, who was doubtless, by this time, stealing up the stairs.  They must not be separated, for it would require two steady, cool heads to deal with the villains.  It was not one man’s work.  As he turned to leave the room he thought how wonderfully well they had succeeded in the delicate enterprise so far.

His knees struck the door, and there was a dull thump, not loud in reality, but like the report of a gun to him.  A sudden rustle in the darkness of the room and then a sleepy voice, soft and quick, as of a woman awakening with a start.

“Who is it?”

His heart ceased beating, his body grew stiff and immovable.  Again the voice, a touch of alarm in it now: 

“Is that you, Donnox?”

She spoke in German, and the voice came from somewhere in front and to his right.  He could not answer, could not move.  The paralysis of indecision was upon him.

“How is it that the outer door is open?”

This time there was something like a reprimand in the tones, still low.  He almost could see the wide-open, searching eyes.

X

YETIVE

There could be no further hesitation.  Something must be done and instantly.  He gently closed the door before answering the third question.  In his nervousness he spoke in English, advancing to the middle of the room.  Impossible to see the woman to whom he hissed this alarming threat-he only could speculate as to its effect: