had found his man?  Instinctively Mark resolved to protect, for did he not love her?  He watched the shrubbery, and soon he saw a face peer out; but it was not the face of Saunders.  It was a strange face, youthful, but bearded and grim, and a gun was poised beside it.  Mark lay quite still, for now he heard the lovers’ steps returning; but he never took his gaze off that terrible face.  He saw the gun lifted and he prepared to spring; but when the man and the girl came into sight the gun barrel dropped, and the face disappeared.  In an instant Mark realized that it was the man and not the girl who was threatened, and that nothing would be done while she was there.

The lovers stood before the tree, saying good-bye.

“You will come back, Luigi?” the girl asked anxiously.

“I will come when you call, my beloved.”

“But if they find you?”

“They will not find me.”

“Then we can go away.  There is a great West in this country.  I have my jewels, you know.  We could hide.  We could live like other people.  We could be just alone together.”

“But would you be happy, Carlotta?”

“I should be happy anywhere with you, Luigi.  It is too much to pay for being a duchess, to lose all I want in life.”

“But many duchesses must do that, you know.  I never have asked such a sacrifice, though, God knows, I have wanted it.”

“You have never asked, Luigi, and that makes me all the more happy to give.  I will tell you when to come.”

With an ardent embrace the two parted.  She stepped inside the tree and closed the door.

The young officer turned.  Mark knew that the time had come for action, and jumped for the other side—­but too late.  There was no sound, but powder burned Mark’s hand—­powder from the muffled gun barrel which he had tried to knock aside.  The lover stood for an instant with his eyes wide open, as if in wonder at a strange shock, but only for an instant.  Mark sprang to his side, and caught him as he fell to the ground.  There was a heavy crashing through the underbrush, then a voice was raised in an oath and there was the sound of a struggle.  Mark looked up as Saunders broke through the bushes dragging after him the body of the murderer.  Dropping his unconscious burden, the detective came up to where Mark was bending over the victim and pulled a little electric glow lamp from his pocket.

“Let me look at him, Griffin,” he said.  He looked long and earnestly at the man’s face, then snapped off the light.

“He’s the man,” he announced.

[Illustration:  Saunders looked long and earnestly at his face.  “He’s the man!” he announced.]

“Who is he?” asked Mark quickly.

“The man I told you about—­the man I took you for—­the man for whose sake the Duchess ran away—­the chap I was watching for.”

“And the other?” Mark nodded toward the gunman, who still lay unconscious.