The Man from Brodney's

THE PLAGUE IS ANNOUNCED

The next morning, a steamship flying the English flag came to anchor off Aratat, delivered and received mail bags, and after an hour's stay steamed away in the drift of the southeast trade winds, Bombay to Cape Colony. The men at the château gazed longingly, helplessly through their glasses at this black hulled visitor from the world they loved; they watched it until nothing was left to be seen except the faint cloud of smoke that went to a pin point in the horizon. There had been absolutely no opportunity to communicate with the officers of the ship; they sailed away hurriedly, as if in alarm. Their haste was significant.

"I guess we'd better not tell the women," said Bobby Browne, heaving a deep sigh. "It won't add to their cheerfulness if they hear that a ship has called here."

"It couldn't matter in any event," said Deppingham. "We've got to stick here two weeks longer, no matter how many ships call. I'm demmed if I'll funk now, after all these rotten months."

"Perhaps Bowles succeeded in getting a word with the officer who came ashore," said Browne hopefully. "He knows the danger we are in."

"My dear Browne, Bowles hadn't the ghost of a chance to communicate with the ship," said Chase. "He can't bully 'em any longer with his Tommy Atkins coat. They've outgrown it, just as he has. It was splendid while it lasted, but they're no more afraid of it now than they are of my warships. I wish there was some way to get him and his English assistants into the château. It's awful to think of what is coming to them, sooner or later."

"Good God, Chase, is there no way to help them?" groaned Deppingham.

"I'll never forget poor Bowles, the first time I saw him in his dinky red jacket and that Hooligan cap of his," reflected Chase, as if he had not heard Deppingham's remark. "He put them on and tried to overawe the crowd that night when I was threatened in the market-place. He did his best, poor chap, and I----"

"Look!" exclaimed Britt suddenly, pointing toward one of the big gates in the upper end of the park. "I believe they're making an attack!"

The next instant the men in the balcony were leaving it pell-mell, picking up the ever-ready rifles as they dashed off through the halls and out into the park. What they had seen at the gate—which was one rarely used—was sufficient to demand immediate action on their part; a demonstration of some sort was in progress at this particular entrance to the grounds. Saunders was left behind with instructions to guard the château against assault from other sources. Headed by Chase, the four men hurried across the park, prepared for an encounter at the gate. They kept themselves as well covered as possible by the boxed trees, although up to this time there had been no shooting.

Chase, in advance, suddenly gave vent to a loud cry and boldly dashed out into the open, disregarding all shelter. Two of the native park patrol were hastening toward the gate from another direction. Outside the huge, barred gate a throng of men and women were congregated. Some of the men were vigorously slashing away at the bars with sledges and crow-bars; others were crouching with rifles levelled—in the other direction!

"It's Bowles!" shouted Chase eagerly.

The situation at once became clear to those inside the walls. Bowles and his friends, a score all told, had managed to reach the upper gate and were now clamouring for admission, beset on all sides by the pickets who were watching the château. Bowles, with his pathetic red jacket, could be distinguished in the midst of his huddled followers, shouting frantically for haste on the part of those inside. Some one was waving a white flag of truce. A couple of shots were fired from the forest above, and there were screams from the frightened women, shouts from the men, who had ceased battering the gates at the signs of rescue from within.

"For God's sake, be quick," shouted Bowles. "There's a thousand of them coming up the mines' road!"

The gates were unlocked by the patrol and the panic-stricken throng tumbled through them and scattered like sheep behind the high, sheltering walls. Once more the massive gates were closed and the bolts thrown down, just in time to avoid a fusillade of bullets from the outside. It was all over in a minute. A hundred throats emitted shouts of rage, curses and threats, and then, as if by magic, the forest became as still as death.

Once inside the château, the fugitives, shivering with terror, fairly collapsed. There were three Englishmen in the party besides Bowles, scrubby, sickly chaps, but men after all. It was with unfeigned surprise that Chase recognised the Persian wives of Jacob von Blitz among the women who had been obliged to cast their lot with the refugees from Aratat. The sister of Neenah and five or six other women who had been sold into the island made up the remainder of the little group of trembling females. Their faces were veiled; their persons were bedecked with all of the gaudy raiment and jewels that their charms had won from their liege lords. They were slaves, these Persians and Turks and Egyptians, but they came out of bondage with the trophies of queens stuck in their hair, in their ears, on their hands and arms and about their waists and throats.

The remainder of the men in the party, fourteen or fifteen in all, were of many castes and nationalities, and of various ages. There were brown-skinned fellows from Calcutta, a couple of sturdy Greeks, an Egyptian and a Persian, three or four Assyrians and as many Maori. As to their walks in life: among them were clerks and guards from the bank, members of the native constabulary, Indian fakirs and showmen, and venders of foreign gewgaws.

Bowles, his thin legs still shaking perceptibly, although he strove mightily to hold them at strict "attention," was the spokesman. A valiant heart thumped once more against the seams of the little red jacket; if his hand trembled and his voice shook, it was because of the unwonted exertion to which both had been put in that stirring flight at dawn. He had eager, anxious listeners about him, too—and of the nobility. Small wonder that his knees were intractable.

"For some time we have been preparing for the outbreak," he said, fingering the glass of brandy that Britt had poured for him. "Ever since Chase began to go in so noticeably for the ladies—ahem!"

Chase glared at him. The others tittered.

"I don't mean the old story, sir, of the Persians—and I'm saying, sir, what's more, there wasn't a word of truth in it—I mean the ladies of the château, begging pardon, too. Von Blitz came to me often with complaints that you were being made a fool of by a pretty face or two, and that you were going over to the enemy, body and soul. Of course, I stood out for you, sir. It wasn't any use. They'd made up their minds to get rid of you. When I heard that they tried to kill you the night before last, I made up my mind that no white man was to be left to tell the tale. Last night we locked all the company's books in the vaults, got together all the banknotes and gold we had on hand, and made preparations to go on board the steamer when she called this morning. My plan was to tell them of the trouble here and try to save you. We were all expected to die of the plague, that's what we were, and I realised that Tommy Atkins was off the boards forever.

"We hadn't any more than got the cash and valuables ready to smuggle aboard, when down came Rasula upon us. Ten o'clock last night, your lordship. That's what it was—ten P.M. He had a dozen men with him and he told every mother's son of us that our presence in the town was not desired until after the ship had sailed away. We were ordered to leave the town and go up into the hills under guard. There wasn't any chance to fight or argue. We said we'd go, but we'd have the government on them for the outrage. We left the rooms in the bank building, carrying away what money we could well conceal. Later we were joined by the other men you found with us, all of whom had refused to join in the outrage.

"We were taken up into the hills by a squad of men. There wasn't a man among us that didn't know that we were to be killed as soon as the ship had gone. With our own eyes, we saw the mail bags rifled, and nearly all of the mail destroyed. The pouches from the château were burned. Rasula politely informed us that the plague had broken out among the château servants and that no mail could be sent out from that place. He said he intended to warn the ship's officer of the danger in landing and—well, that explains the short stay of the ship and the absence of nearly all mail from the island. We had no means of communicating with the officers. There won't be another boat for three weeks, and they won't land because of the plague. They will get word, however, that every one in the château has died of the disease, and that scores of natives are dying every day.

"Well, we decided to break away from the guard and try to get to the château. It was our only chance. It was their intention to take some of us back to the bank this morning to open the vault and the safes. That was to be our last act, I fancy. I think it was about four this morning when a dozen of the women came up to where we were being held. They were flying from the town and ran into the arms of our guard before they knew of their presence. It seems that those devils down there had set out to kill their women because it was known that one of them had warned Mr. Chase of his danger. According to the women who came with us, at least a score of these unlucky wives were strangled. Von Blitz's wives succeeded in getting word to a few of their friends and they fled.

"During the excitement brought about by their arrival in our camp, we made a sudden attack upon our guards. They were not expecting it and we had seized their rifles before they could recover from their surprise. I regret to say that we were obliged to kill a few of them in the row that followed. But that is neither here nor there. We struck off for the lower park as lively as possible. The sun was well up, and we had no time to lose. We found the gates barred and went on to the upper gates. You let us in just in time. The alarm had gone back to the town and we could see the mob coming up the mines' road. My word, it was a close shave."

He mopped his brow with trembling hand and smiled feebly at his countrymen for support. The colour was coming back into their faces and they could smile with the usual British indifference.

"A very close shave, my crimes!" vouchsafed the stumpy gentleman who kept the books at the bank.

"It's an ill wind that blows all evil," said Deppingham. "Mr. Bowles, you are most welcome. We were a bit short of able-bodied soldiers. May we count on you and the men who came with you?"

"To the end, my lord," said Bowles, almost bursting his jacket by inflation. The others slapped their legs staunchly.

"Then, we'll all have breakfast," announced Lord Deppingham. "Mr. Saunders, will you be good enough to conduct the recruits to quarters?"

The arrival of the refugees from Aratat gave the château a staunch little garrison, not counting the servants, whose loyalty was an uncertain quantity. The stable men in the dungeon below served as illustrations of what might be expected of the others, despite their profession of fidelity. Including the house servants, who, perforce, were loyal, there was an able-bodied garrison of sixty men. After luncheon, Deppingham called his forces together. He gave fresh instructions, exacted staunch promises, and heard reports from all of his aides. The château by this time had been made practically impregnable to attack from the outside.

"For the time being we are as snug as bugs in a rug," said Deppingham, when all was over. "Shall we rejoin the ladies, gentlemen?" He was as calm as a May morning.

The three leaders found the ladies in the shaded balcony, lounging lazily as if no such thing as danger existed. Below them in the grassy courtyard, a dozen indolent, sensuous Persians were congregated, lying about in the shade with all the abandon of absolute security. The three women in the balcony had been watching them for an hour, commenting freely upon these creatures from another world. Neenah, the youngest and prettiest of them all, had wafted kisses to the proud dames above. She had danced for their amusement. Her companions sat staring at the ladies at the railing, dark eyes peering with disdain above the veils which hid their faces.

Lady Agnes waved her hand lazily toward the group below, sending a mocking smile to Chase. "The Asiatic plague," she said cheerfully.

"The deuce," broke in her husband, not catching her meaning. "Has it really broken out—"

"Deppy, you are the dumbest creature I know," exclaimed his wife.

Chase smiled broadly. "She refers to the newly acquired harem, Lord Deppingham. We're supposed to die with the Asiatic plague, not to—not to—"

"Not to live with it! Ho, ho, I see, by Jove!" roared Deppingham amiably. "Splendid! Harem! I get the point. Ripping!"

"They're not so bad, are they, Bobby?" asked Lady Agnes coolly, going to Browne's side at the railing. Chase hesitated a moment and then walked over to Drusilla Browne, who was looking pensively into the courtyard below. He was sorry for her. She laughed and chatted with him for ten minutes, but there was a strained note in her voice that did not escape his notice. It may not have been true that Browne was in love with Lady Deppingham, but it was more than evident that his wife felt convinced that he was.

"Splendid!" was the sudden exclamation of Drusilla's vagrant lord. The others looked up, interested. "Say, everybody, Lady Agnes and I have hit upon a ripping scheme. It's great!"

"To better our position?" asked Deppingham.

"Position? What—oh, I see. Not exactly. What do you say to a charity ball, the proceeds to go to the survivors of the plague we're expected to have?"

The Princess gave a quick, involuntary look at Chase's face. Browne's tall fellow-countryman was now leaning against the rail beside her chair. She saw a look of surprised amusement flit across his face, succeeded almost instantly by a hard, dark frown of displeasure. He waited a moment and then looked down at her with unmistakable shame and disapproval in his eyes. Bobby Browne was going on volubly about the charity ball, Deppingham listening with a fair show of tolerance.

"We might just as well be merry while we can," he was saying. "Think of what the French did at the time of the Commune. They danced and died like ladies and gentlemen. And our own forefathers, Chase, at the time of the American Revolution—remember them, too. They gave their balls and parties right under the muzzles of British cannon. And Vicksburg—New Orleans, too—in the Civil War! Think of 'em! Why shouldn't we be as game and as gay as they?"

"But they were earnest in their distractions," observed Deppingham, with a glance at his wife's eager face. "This could be nothing more than a travesty, a jest."

"Oh, let us be sports," cried Lady Agnes, falling into an Americanism readily. "It may be a jest, but what odds? Something to kill time with."

Chase and the Princess watched Deppingham's expressionless face as he listened to his wife and Bobby Browne. They were talking of arrangements. He looked out over the roof of the opposite wing, beyond the group of Persians, and nodded his head from time to time. There was no smile on his lips, however.

"I don't like Mr. Browne," whispered Genevra suddenly. Chase did not reply. She waited a moment and then went on. "He is not like Deppingham. Do you understand?"

Lady Deppingham came over to them at that instant, her eyes sparkling.

"It's to be to-night," she said. "A fashionable charity ball—everything except the newspaper accounts, don't you know. Committees and all that. It's short notice, of course, but life may be short. We'll have Arab acrobatics, Persian dances, a grand march, electric lights and absolutely no money to distribute. That's the way it usually is. Now, Mr. Chase, don't look so sour! Be nice, please!" She put her hand on his arm and smiled up at him so brightly that he could not hold out against her. She caught the touch of disapproval in Genevra's glance, and a sharp, quick flash of rebellion came into her own eyes—a stubborn line stopped for an instant at the corners of her mouth.

"What is a charity ball?" asked Genevra after a moment.

"A charity ball is a function where one set of women sit in the boxes and say nasty things about the women on the floor, and those on the floor say horrid things about the women in the boxes. It's great fun."

"Charity is simply a hallucination, then?"

"Yes, but don't mention it aloud. Mr. Britt is trying with might and main to prove that Bobby and I have hallucinations without end. If I happen to look depressed at breakfast time, he jots it down—spells of depression and melancholia, do you see? He's a dreadful man."

Saunders was approaching from the lower end of the balcony. He appeared flustered. His face was red and perspiring and his manner distrait. Saunders, since his failure to establish the advantages of polygamy, had shrunk farther into the background than ever, quite unlike Britt, who had not lost confidence in the divorce laws. The sandy-haired solicitor was now exhibiting symptoms of unusual discomfiture.

"Well, Saunders?" said Deppingham, as the lawyer stopped to clear his throat obsequiously.

"I have found sufficient food of all descriptions, sir, to last for a month, at least," said Saunders, in a strained, unnatural voice.

"Good! Has Miss Pelham jilted you, Saunders?" He put the question in a jocular way. Its effect on Saunders was startling. His face turned almost purple with confusion.

"No, sir, she has not, sir," he stammered.

"Beg pardon, Saunders. I didn't mean to offend. Where is she, pray, with the invoice?"

"I'm—I'm sure I don't know, sir," responded Saunders, striving to regain his dignity.

"Have a cigarette, Deppy?" interposed Browne, seeing that something was amiss with Saunders. In solemn order the silver box went the rounds. Drusilla alone refused to take one. Her husband looked surprised.

"Want one, Drusie?"

"No, thank you, Bobby," she said succinctly. "I've stopped. I don't think it's womanly."

Lady Deppingham's hand was arrested with the match half way to her lips. She looked hard at Drusilla for a moment and then touched the light serenely to her cigarette.

"Pooh!" was all that she said. Genevra did not light hers at all.

Saunders spoke up, as if suddenly recollecting something. "I have also to report, sir, that the stock of cigarettes is getting very low. They can't last three days at this rate, sir."

The three men stared at him.

"Good Lord!" exclaimed Chase, who could face any peril and relish the experience if needs be, but who now foresaw a sickening deprivation. "You can't mean it, Saunders?"

"I certainly do, sir. The mint is holding out well, though, sir. I think it will last."

"By George, this is a calamity," groaned Chase. "How is a man to fight without cigarettes?"

Genevra quietly proffered the one she had not lighted, a quizzical smile in her eyes.

"My contribution to the cause," she said gaily. "What strange creatures men are! You will go out and be shot at all day and yet—" she paused and looked at the cigarette as if it were entitled to reverence.

"It does seem a bit silly, doesn't it?" lamented the stalwart Chase. Then he took the cigarette.

THE CHARITY BALL

They were not long in finding out what had happened to Saunders. After luncheon, while Browne and the three ladies were completing the preparations for the entertainment. Miss Pelham appeared before Deppingham and Chase in the former's headquarters. She had asked for an interview and was accompanied by Mr. Britt.

"Lord Deppingham," she began, seating herself coolly before the two men, her eyes dark with decision, "I approach you as the recognised head of this establishment. I shan't detain you long. My attorney, Mr. Britt, will explain matters to you after I have retired. He—"

"Your attorney? What does this mean?" gasped Deppingham, visions of blackmail in mind. "What's up, Britt? I deny every demmed word of it, whatever it is!"

"Just a little private affair," murmured Britt, uncomfortably.

"Private?" sniffed Miss Pelham, involuntarily rearranging her hat. "I think it has been quite public, Mr. Britt. That's the trouble." Lord Deppingham looked worried and Chase had the feeling that some wretched disclosure was about to be made by the sharp-tongued young woman. He looked at her with a hard light in his eyes. She caught the glance and stared back for a moment defiantly. Then she appeared to remember that she always had longed for his good opinion—perhaps, she had dreamed of something more—and her eyes fell; he saw her lip tremble. "I've simply come to ask Lord Deppingham to stand by me. Mr. Saunders is in his employ—or Lady Deppingham's, I should say—"

"Which is the same thing," interposed Deppingham, drawing a deeper breath. He had been trying to recollect if he ever had said anything to Miss Pelham that might not appear well if repeated.

"Mr. Saunders has deceived me," she announced steadily. "I leave it to you if his attentions have not been most pronounced. Of course, if I wanted to, I could show you a transcript of everything he has said to me in the last couple of months. He didn't know it, but I managed to get most everything down in shorthand. I did it at the risk, too, your lordship, of being considered cold and unresponsive by him. It's most difficult to take conversation without the free use of your hands, I must say. But I've preserved in my own black and white, every promise he made and—"

"I'm afraid it won't be good evidence," volunteered her lawyer. "It will have to be substantiated, my dear."

"Please don't call me 'my dear,' Mr. Britt. Never you mind about it not being good evidence. Thomas Saunders won't enjoy hearing it read in court, just the same. What I want to ask of you, Lord Deppingham, as a friend, is to give Mr. Britt your deposition regarding Mr. Saunders's attitude toward me, to the best of your knowledge and belief. I'll take it verbatim and put it into typewriting, free of charge. I—I don't see anything to laugh at, Mr. Chase!" she cried, flushing painfully.

"My dear girl," he said, controlling himself, "I think you are misjudging the magnitude of a lover's quarrel. Don't you think it is rather a poor time to talk breach of promise with the guns of an enemy ready to take a pop at us at any moment?"

"It's no worse than a charity ball, Mr. Chase," she said severely. "Charity begins at home, gentlemen, and I'm here to look out for myself. No one else will, let me tell you that. I want to get the deposition of every person in the château. They can be sworn to before Mr. Bowles, who is a magistrate, I'm told. He can marry people and—"

"By Jove!" exclaimed Deppingham suddenly. "Can he? Upon my soul!"

"His manner changed as soon as that horrid little wife of Selim came to the château. I don't like the way she makes eyes at him and I told him so this morning, down in the storerooms. My, but he flew up! He said he'd be damned if he'd marry me." She began to use her handkerchief vigorously. The men smiled as they looked away.

"I—I intend to sue him for breach of promise," she said thickly.

"Is it as bad as all that?" asked Deppingham consolingly.

"What do you mean by 'bad as all that'? He's kissed me time and again, but that's all."

"I'll send for Saunders," said Deppingham sternly.

"Not while I'm here," she exclaimed, getting up nervously.

"Just as you like, Miss Pelham. I'll send for you after we've talked it over with Saunders. We can't afford a scandal in the château, don't you know."

"No, I should think not," she said pointedly. Then she looked at Chase and winked, with a meaning nod at the unobserving Deppingham. Chase followed her into the hall.

"None of that, Miss Pelham," he said severely.

Saunders came in a few minutes later, nervous and uncomfortable.

"You sent for me, my lord," he said weakly.

"Sit down, Saunders. Your knees seem to be troubling you. Miss Pelham is going to sue you for breach of promise."

"Good Lord!"

"What have you promised her, sir?"

"That I wouldn't marry her, that's all, sir," floundered Saunders. "She's got no right to presume, sir. Gentlemen always indulge in little affairs—flirtations, I might say, sir—it's most common. Of course, I thought she'd understand."

"Don't you love her, Saunders?"

"Oh, I say, my lord, that's rather a pointed question. My word, it is, sir! There may have been a bit of—er—well, you know—between us, sir, but—that's all, that's quite all. Absurdly all, 'pon my soul."

"Saunders," said Britt solemnly, "I am her attorney. Be careful what you say in my presence."

"Britt," said Saunders distinctly, "you are a blooming traitor! You told me yourself that she was used to all that sort of thing and wouldn't mind. Now, see what you do? It's—it's outrageous!" He was half in tears. Then turning to Deppingham, he went on fiercely, "I won't be bullyragged by any woman, sir. We got along beautifully until she began to shy figurative pots at me because Selim's wife looked at me occasionally. Hang it all, sir, I can't help it if the ladies choose to look at me. Minnie—Miss Pelham—was perfectly silly about it. Good Lord," he groaned in recollection. "It was a very trying scene she made, sir. More than ever, it made me realise that I can't marry beneath me. You see, my lord, we've got a fairish sort of social position out Hammersmith way—as far out as Putney, I might say, where we have rather swell friends, my mother and I—and I don't think—"

"Saunders," said Lord Deppingham sternly, "she loves you. I don't understand why or how, but she does. Just because you have obtained an exalted social position at Hammersmith Bridge is no reason you should become a snob. I daresay she stands just as well at Brooklyn Bridge as you do at Hammersmith. She's a fine girl and would be an adornment to you, such as Hammersmith could be proud of. If you want my candid opinion, Saunders, I think you're a silly ass!"

"Do you really, my lord?" quite humbly.

"Shall I prove it to you by every man on the place? Miss Pelham is quite good enough for any one of us. I'd be proud to have her as my wife—if I lived at Hammersmith Bridge."

"You amaze me, sir!"

"She's a very pretty girl," volunteered Chase glibly.

"Oh, she could marry like a flash in New York," said Britt. "A dozen men I know of are crazy about her. Good-looking chaps, too," The sarcasm escaped Saunders, who was fidgeting uncomfortably.

"Of course—you know—the breaking of the engagement—I should say the row, wasn't of my doing," he submitted, pulling at his finger joints nervously.

"I'm afraid it can't be patched up, either," said Britt dolefully. "She's been insulted, you see—"

"Insulted? My eye! I wouldn't say anything to hurt her for the world. I may have been agitated—very likely I said a sharp word or two. But as for insulting her—never! She's told me herself a thousand times that she doesn't mind the word 'damn' in the least. That may have misled me—"

"Saunders, we can't have our only romance marred by a breach of promise suit," said his lordship resolutely. "There is simply got to be a wedding in the end or the whole world will hate us. Every romance must have its young lovers, and even though it doesn't run smooth, love will triumph. So far you have been our prize young lover. You are the undisputed hero. Don't spoil everything at the last moment, Saunders. Patch it up, and let's have a wedding in the last chapter. You should not forget that it was you who advocated multi-marriage. Try it once for yourself, and, if you like it, by Jove, we'll all come to your succeeding marriages and bless you, no matter how many wives you take unto yourself."

Saunders, very much impressed by these confidences, bowed himself out of the room, followed by Britt, of whom he implored help in the effort to bring about a reconciliation. He was sorely distressed by Britt's apparent reluctance to compromise the case without mature deliberation.

"You see, old chap," mused Deppingham, after their departure, "matrimony is no trifling thing, after all. No matter whether it contemplates a garden in Hammersmith or an island in the South Seas, it has its drawbacks."

The charity ball began at ten o'clock, schedule time. If all of those who participated were not in perfect sympathy with the spirit of the mad whim, they at least did not deport themselves after the fashion of wet blankets. To be quite authentic, but two of the promoters were heartily involved in the travesty—Lady Agnes, whose sprightliness was never dormant, and Bobby Browne, who shone in the glamour of his first encounter with the nobility. Drusilla Browne, asserting herself as an American matron, insisted that the invitation list should include the lowly as well as the mighty. She had her way, and as a result, the bank employés, the French maids, Antoine and the two corporals of Rapp-Thorberg's Royal Guard appeared on the floor in the grand march directly behind Mr. Britt, Mr. Saunders, and Miss Pelham.

"One cannot discriminate at the charity ball," Drusilla had stoutly maintained. "The hoi polloi and the riff-raff always get in at home. So, why not here? If we're going to have a charity ball, let's give it the correct atmosphere."

"I shall feel as if I were dancing with my green grocer," lamented Lady Agnes. Later on, when the dancing was at its height, she exclaimed with all the fervour of a charmed imagination: "I feel as the Duchess de What's-her-name must have felt, Bobby, when she danced all night at her own ball, and then dressed for the guillotine instead of going to bed. We may all be shot in the morning."

The Indian fakirs and showmen gave a performance in the courtyard at midnight. They were followed by the Bedouin tumblers and the inspired Persians, who danced with frantic abandon and the ripe lust of joy. There was but one unfortunate accident. Mr. Rivers, formerly of the bank, got very tight and fell down the steps leading to the courtyard, breaking his left arm.

Lord Deppingham and Chase kept their heads. They saw to it that the watch over the grounds and about the château was strictly maintained. The former led the grand march with the Princess. She was more ravishingly beautiful than ever. Her gown, exquisitely cool and simple, suggested that indefinable, unmistakable touch of class that always marks the distinction between the woman who subdues the gown and the gown which subdues the woman.

Hollingsworth Chase was dazzled. He discovered, much to his subsequent amusement, that he was holding his breath as he stared at her from the opposite side of the banquet hall, which had been transformed into a ballroom. She had just entered with the Deppinghams. Something seemed to shout coarsely, scoffingly in his ear: "Now, do you realise the distance that lies between? She was made for kings and princes, not for such as you!"

He waited long before presenting himself in quest of the dance he hungered for so greedily—afraid of her! She greeted him with a new, brighter light in her eyes; a quiver of delight, long in restraint, came into her voice; he saw and felt the welcome in her manner.

The blood surged to his head; he mumbled his request. Then, for the first time, he was near to holding her close in his arms—he was clasping her fingers, touching her waist, drawing her gently toward his heart. Once, as they swept around the almost empty ballroom, she looked up into his eyes. Neither had spoken. His lips parted suddenly and his fingers closed down upon hers. She saw the danger light in his eyes and knew the unuttered words that struggled to his lips and stopped there. She never knew why she did it, but she involuntarily shook her head before she lowered her eyes. He knew what she meant. His heart turned cold again and the distance widened once more to the old proportions.

He left her with Bobby Browne and went out upon the cool, starlit balcony. There he gently cursed himself for a fool, a dolt, an idiot.

The shouts of laughter and the clapping of hands on the inside did not draw him from his unhappy reverie. He did not know until afterward that the official announcement of the engagement of Miss Minnie Pelham and Thomas Saunders was made by Bobby Browne and the health of the couple drunk in a series of bumpers.

Chase's bitter reflections were at last disturbed by a sound that came sharply to his attention. He was staring moodily into the night, his cigarette drooping dejectedly in his lips. The noise came from directly below where he stood. He peered over the stone railing. The terrace was barely ten feet below him; a mass of bushes fringed the base of the wall, dark, thick, fragrant. Some one was moving among these stubborn bushes; he could hear him plainly. The next moment a dark figure shot out from the shadows and slunk off into night, followed by another and another and yet others, seven in all. Chase's mind refused to work quickly. He stood as one petrified for a full minute, unable to at once grasp the meaning of the performance.

Then the truth suddenly dawned upon him. The prisoners had escaped from the dungeon!

He dashed into the ballroom and shouted the alarm. Confusion ensued. He called out sharp commands as he rushed across to where Deppingham was chatting with the Princess.

"There's been treachery," he explained quickly. "Some one has released the prisoners. We must keep them from reaching the walls. They will overpower our guards and open the gates to the enemy. Britt, see that the searchlight is trained on the gates. We must stop those fellows before it is too late. Time enough to hunt for the traitor later on!"

Two minutes later, a swarm of armed men forsook the mock charity ball and sallied forth to engage in realities. Firing was soon heard at the western gate, half a mile away. Thither, the eager pursuers rushed. The wide ray from the searchlight swung down upon this gate and revealed the forms of struggling men.

The prisoners had fallen suddenly upon the two Greeks who guarded the western gate, surprising them cleverly. The Greeks fought for their lives, but were overwhelmed in plain view of the relief party which raced toward them. Both fell under the clubbed guns of their adversaries.

Chase and Selim were not more than a hundred yards away when the desperate Greeks went down. The blinding glare of the searchlight aided the pursuers, who kept outside its radius. The fugitives, bewildered, confused by the bright glare in which they found themselves, faced the light boldly, five of them kneeling with guns raised to protect their two companions who started across the narrow strip which separated them from the massive gate. Selim gave a shout and stopped suddenly, throwing his rifle to his shoulder.

"They have the keys!" he cried. "Shoot!"

His rifle cracked a second later and one of the two men leaped into the air and fell like a log. Chase understood the necessity for quick work and fired an instant later. The second man fell in a heap, thirty feet from the gate. His companions returned the fire at random in the direction from which the well-aimed shots had come.

"Under cover!" shouted Chase. He and Selim dropped into the shrubbery in time to escape a withering fire from outside the gates. The searchlight revealed a compact mass of men beyond the walls. It was then that the insiders realised how near they had come to being surprised and destroyed. A minute more, and the gates would have been opened to this merciless horde.

The prisoners, finding themselves trapped, threw themselves upon the ground and shrieked for mercy. Lord Deppingham and the others came up and, scattering well, began to fire at the mass outside the wall. The islanders were at a disadvantage. They could not locate the opposing marksmen on account of the blinding light in their faces. It was but a moment before they were scampering off into the dark wood, shrieking with rage.

The five fugitives were compelled to carry their fallen comrades and the two Greeks from the open space in front of the gates to a point where it was safe for the defenders to approach them without coming in line with a possible volley from the forest.

A small force was left to guard the gate; the remainder returned as quickly as possible to the château. The Greeks were unconscious, badly battered by the clubbed guns. Browne, once more the doctor, attended them and announced that they would be on their feet in a day or two—"if complications don't set in." One of the prisoners was dead, shot through the heart by the deadly Selim. The other had a shattered shoulder.

Immediately upon the return to the château, an inspection of the dungeons was made, prior to an examination of the servants in the effort to apprehend the traitor.

The three men who went down into the damp, chill regions below ground soon returned with set, pale faces. There had been no traitor!

The man whose duty it was to guard the prisoners was found lying inside the big cell, his throat cut from ear to ear, stone dead!

There was but one solution. He had been seized from within as he came to the grating in response to a call. While certain fingers choked him into silence, others held his hands and still others wrenched the keys from his sash. After that it was easy. Deppingham, Chase and Selim looked at each other in horror—and, strange as it may seem, relief.

Death was there, but, after all, Death is no traitor.

THE JOY OF TEMPTATION

The revolting details were kept from the women. They were not permitted to know of the ugly thing that sweltered in the dark corridor below their very feet. Late in the night, a small body of men, acting under orders, carried the unfortunate guard down into the valley and buried him. Only the most positive stand on the part of the white men prevented the massacre of the prisoners by the friends and fellow-servants of the murdered man. A secret trial by jury, at a later day, was promised by Lord Deppingham.

There was but little sleep in the château that night. The charity ball was forgotten—or if recalled at all, only in connection with the thought of what it came so near to costing its promoters.

No further disturbances occurred. A strict watch was preserved; the picturesque drawbridge was lifted and there were lights on the terrace and galleries; men slept within easy reach of their weapons. The siege had begun in earnest. Men had been slain and their blood was crying out for vengeance; the voice of justice was lost in the clamourings of rage.

Breakfast found no laggards; the lazy comforts of the habitually late were abandoned for the more stirring interests that had come to occupy the time and thoughts of all concerned. The Princess was quite serene. She lightly announced that the present state of affairs was no worse than that which she was accustomed to at home. The court of Rapp-Thorberg was ever in a state of unrest, despite its outward suggestion of security. Outbreaks were common among the masses; somehow, they were suppressed before they grew large enough to be noticed by the wide world.

"We invariably come out on top," she philosophised, "and so shall we here. At home we always eat, drink and make merry, for to-morrow never comes."

"That's all very nice," said Lady Agnes plaintively, "but I'm thinking of yesterday. Those fellows who were killed can't die to-morrow, you know; it occurred to them yesterday. It's always yesterday after one dies."

Soon after breakfast was over, Chase announced his intention to visit each of the gates in turn. The Princess strolled with him as far as the bridge at the foot of the terrace. They stopped in the shade of a clump of trees that hung upon the edge of the stream. As they were gravely discussing the events of the night, Neenah came up to them from beyond the bridge. Her dark, brilliant face was glowing with excitement; the cheerful adoration that one sees in a dog's eyes shone in hers as she salaamed gracefully to the "Sahib." She had no eyes for royalty.

"Excellency," she began breathlessly, "it is Selim who would have private speech with the most gracious sahib. It is to be quick, excellency. Selim is under the ground, excellency."

"In the cellars?"

"Yes, excellency. It is so dark there that one cannot see, but Neenah will lead you. Selim has sent me. But come now!"

Chase felt his ears burn when he turned to find a delicate, significant smile on Genevra's lips. "Don't let me detain you," she said, ever so politely.

"Wait, please!" he exclaimed. "Is Selim hurt?" he demanded of Neenah, who shook her head vigorously.

"Then, there is no reason why you should not accompany us. Princess."

"I am not at all necessary to the undertaking," she said coldly, turning to leave him.

"Selim has found fuses and gunpowder laid in the cellars, excellency—in the secret vaults," began Neenah eagerly, divining the cause of the white lady's hesitation.

This astounding piece of news swept away the feeble barrier Genevra would have erected in her pique. Eagerly she joined in questioning the Persian girl, but Neenah would only reply that Selim was waiting for the sahib. The Princess was immeasurably consoled to find that the body-servant had destroyed the fuses and that they were in no immediate danger of being blown to pieces. She consented to accompany Chase into the cellars, a spirit of adventure overcoming certain scruples which might have restrained her under other conditions.

Neenah led them through the wine cellars and down into the vaults beyond the dungeons. They descended three steep flights of stone steps, into the cold, damp corridors of the lowermost cellars. Neenah explained that it was necessary to move cautiously and without lights. Selim was confident that there was at least one traitor among the servants. The Princess clutched Chase's hand tightly as they stole through the bleak, chill corridor; she found herself wondering if the girl was to be trusted. What if she were leading them into a trap? She would have whispered her fears into Chase's ear had not a sharp "sh!" come from the girl who was leading. Genevra felt a queer little throb of hatred for the girl—she could not explain it.

The dungeon was off to the right. They could hear the insistent murmur of voices, with now and then a laugh from the distant cells. The guard could be heard scoffing at his charges. With a caution that seemed wholly absurd to the two white people, Neenah guided them through the maze of narrow passages, dark as Erebus and chill as the grave. Chase checked a hysterical impulse to laugh aloud at the proceedings; it was like playing at a children's game.

He was walking between the two women, Neenah ahead, Genevra behind; each clasped one of his hands. Suddenly he found himself experiencing an overpowering desire to exert the strength of his arm to draw the Princess close—close to his insistent body. The touch of her flesh, the clutch of her cold little hand, filled him with the most exquisite sense of possession; the magnetism of life charged from one to the other, striking fire to the blood; sex tingled in this delicious riot of the senses; all went to inspire and encourage the reckless joy that was mastering him. He felt his arm grow taut with the irresistible impulse. He was forgetting Neenah, forgetting himself—thinking only of the opportunity and its fascination. In another instant he would have drawn her hand to his lips: Neenah came to a standstill and uttered a warning whisper. Chase recovered himself with a mighty start, a chill as of one avoiding an unseen peril sweeping over him. Genevra heard the sharp, painful intake of his breath and felt the sudden relaxation of his fingers. She was not puzzled; she, too, had felt the magic of the touch and her blood was surging red; she knew, then, that she had been clasping his hand with a fervour that was as unmistakable as it was shameless.

She was again forgetting that princesses should dwell in the narrow realm of self.

Neenah may have felt the magnetic current that coursed through these surcharged creatures: she was smiling mysteriously to herself.

"Wait here," she whispered to Chase, ever so softly. She released his hand and moved off in the blackness of the passage. "I will bring Selim," came back to them.

"Oh!" fell faintly, tremulously from Genevra's lips. It was a trap, after all! But it was not the trap laid by a traitor. She fell all a-quiver. Her heart fluttered violently, her breath came quickly. Alone with him—and their blood leaping to the touch that thrilled!

Chase could no more have restrained the hand that went out suddenly in quest of hers than he could have checked his own heart throbs. A wave of exquisite joy swept over him—the joy of a temptation that knew no fear or conscience. He found her cold little hand and clasped it in tense fingers—fingers that throbbed with the call to passion. He drew her close—their bodies touched and sweetly trembled. His lips were close to her ear—the smell of her hair was in his quivering nostrils. He heard her quick, sharp breathing.

"Are you afraid?" he whispered in tones he had never heard before.

"Yes," she murmured convulsively—"of you! Please, please, don't!" At the same time, she tightened her clutch upon his hand and crept closer to him, governed by an unconquerable craving. Chase had the sensation of smothering; he could not believe the senses which told him that she was responding to his appeal. His brain was whirling, his heart bounding like mad. Her voice, soft and appealing, turned his blood to fire.

"Genevra!" he murmured—almost gasped—in his delirium. Their bodies were pressed close to each other—his arms went about her slender figure suddenly and she was strained to his breast, locked to him with bonds that seemed unbreakable. Her face was lifted to his. The blackness of the passage was impenetrable, but love was the guide. He found her lips in one wild, glorious kiss.

A door creaked sharply. He released her. Their quivering arms fell away; they drew ever so slightly apart, still under the control of the influence which had held them for that brief moment. She was trembling violently. A soft, wailing sigh, as of pain, came from her lips.

Then the glimmer of a light came to them through the half open door at the end of the passage. They gazed at it without comprehension, dumb in their sudden weakness. A shadowy figure came out through the door and Selim's voice, low and tense, called to them.

Still speechless, they moved forward involuntarily. He did not attempt to take her hand. He was afraid—vastly afraid of what he had done, unaccountable as it may seem. That piteous sigh wrought shame in his heart. He felt that he had wronged her—had seized upon a willing, hapless victim when she had not the power to defend herself against her own impulses.

"Forgive me," he murmured.

"It is too late," she replied. Then his hand sought hers again and, dizzy with emotion, he led her up to the open door. As they passed into the huge, dimly lighted chamber, he turned to look into her face. She met his gaze and there were tears in her eyes. Selim was ahead of them. She shook her head sadly and he understood.

"Can we ever forget?" she murmured plaintively.

"Never!" he whispered.

"Then we shall always regret—always regret!" she said, withdrawing her hand. "It was the beginning and the end."

"Not the end, dearest one—if we are always to regret," he interposed eagerly. "But why the end? You do love me! I know it! And I worship you—oh, you don't know how I worship you, Genevra! I—"

"Hush! We were fools! Don't, please! I do not love you. I was carried away by—Oh, can't you understand? Remember what I am! You knew and yet have degraded me in my own eyes. Is my own self-respect nothing? You will laugh and you may boast after I am married to—"

"Genevra!" he protested as if in great pain.

"Excellency," came from the lips of Selim, at the lower end of the chamber, breaking in sharply upon their little world. "There is no time to be lost." Time to be lost! And he had held her in his arms! Time to be lost! All the rest of Time was to be lost! "They may return at any moment."

Chase pulled himself together. He looked into her eyes for a moment, finding nothing there but a command to go. She stood straight and unyielding on the very spot which had seen her trembling with emotion but a moment before.

"Coming, Selim," he said, and moved away from her side as Neenah came toward them from the opposite wall. Genevra did not move. She stood quite still and numb, watching his tall figure crossing the stone floor. Ah, what a man he was! The little Persian wife of Selim, after waiting for a full minute, gently touched the arm of the Princess. Genevra started and looked down into the dark, accusing, smiling eyes. She flushed deeply and hated herself.

"Shall we go back?" she asked nervously. "I—I have seen enough. Come, Neenah. Lead me back to—"

"Most glorious excellency," said Neenah, shaking her pretty head, "we are to wait here. The sahib and Selim will join us soon."

"Where are they going?" demanded the Princess, a feeling of awe coming over her. "I don't want to be left here alone." Chase and Selim had opened a low, heavy iron door at the lower end and were peering into the darkness beyond.

"Selim will explain. He has learned much. It is the secret passage to the coast. Be not afraid."

Genevra looked about her for the first time. They were standing in a long, low room, the walls of which reeked with dampness and gave out a noxious odour. A single electric light provided a faint, almost unnatural light. Selim raised a lighted lantern as he led Chase through the squat door. Behind Genevra were enormous casks, a dozen or more, reaching almost to the ceiling. A number of boxes stood close by, while on the opposite side of the chamber four small iron chests were to be seen, dragged out from recesses in the distant corner. It was not unlike the mysterious treasure cave of the pirates that her brother had stealthily read about to her in childhood days. Observing her look of wonder, Neenah vouchsafed a casual explanation.

"It is the wine cellar and the storeroom. The iron chests contain the silver and gold plate that came from the great Rajah of Murpat in exchange for the five huge rubies which now adorn his crown. The Rajah bartered his entire service of gold and silver for those wonderful gems. The old sahibs stored the chests here many years ago. But few know of their existence. See! They were hidden in the walls over there. Von Blitz has found them."

"Von Blitz!" in amazement.

"He has been here. He has carried away many chests. There were twenty in all."

"And—and he will return for these?" queried the Princess in alarm.

"Assuredly, most glorious one. Soon, perhaps. But be not afraid. Selim can close the passage door. He cannot get in. He will be fooled, eh? Why should you be afraid? Have you not with you the most wonderful, the most brave sahib? Would he not give his life for you?" The dark eyes sparkled with understanding—aye, even mischief. Genevra felt that this Oriental witch knew everything. For a long time she looked in uncertain mood upon that smiling, wistful face. Then she said softly, moved by an irresistible impulse to confess something, even obscurely:

"Oh, if only I were such as you, Neenah, and could live forever on this dear island!"

Neenah's smile deepened, her eyes glowed with discernment. With a meaning gleam in their depths, she said: "But, most high, there are no princes here. There is no one to whom the most gracious one could be sold. No one who could pay more than a dozen rubies. Women are cheap here, and you would be a woman, not a most beautiful princess."

"I would not care to be a princess, perhaps."

"You love my Sahib Chase?" demanded Neenah abruptly, eagerly.

"Neenah!" gasped Genevra, with a startled look. Neenah looked intently into the unsteady, blue-grey eyes and then bent over to kiss the hand of the Princess. The latter laughed almost aloud in her confusion. She caught herself up quickly and said with some asperity: "You foolish child, I am to become a prince's wife. How can I love your sahib? What nonsense! I am to marry a prince and he is not to pay for me in rubies."

"Ah, how wonderful!" cried Neenah, with ravishing candour. "A prince for a husband and the glorious Sahib Chase for a lover all your life! Ah!" The exclamation was no less than a sigh of rapturous endorsement.

The Princess stared at her first in consternation, then in dismay. Before she could find words to combat this alarming prophecy, so ingenuously presented to her reflections, Selim and Hollingsworth Chase returned to the chamber. She was distressed, even confounded, to find that she was staring at Chase with a strange, abashed curiosity growing in her eyes—a stare that she suddenly was afraid he might observe and appreciate. A wave of revulsion, of shame, spread over her whole being. She shuddered slightly as she turned her face away from his eager gaze: it was as if she recognised the fear that he was even now contemplating the future as Neenah had painted it for her.

She caught and checked a horrid arraignment of herself. Such conditions as Neenah presented were not unknown to her. With the swiftness of lightning, she recalled the things that had been said of more than one grand dame in Europe—aye, of women at her own court. Even a princess she had known who—but for shame! she cried in her heart. It could not be! Despite herself, a cruel, distressing shyness came over her as he approached, his eyes glowing with the light she feared yet craved. Was this man to remain in her life? Was he? Would he come to her and wage the unfair war? Was he honest? Was he even now coveting her as other men had coveted the women she knew and despised? She found herself confronted by the shocking conviction that he knew she could never be his wife. He knew she was to wed another, and yet—It was unbelievable!

She met his eager advance with a quick, shrill laugh of defiance, and noted the surprise in his eyes. Dim as the light was, she could have sworn that the look in those eyes was honest. Ah, that silly Neenah! The reaction was as sudden as the revolt had been. Her smile grew warm and shy.

"Von Blitz has been here," he was saying, half diffidently, still searching deep in her eyes. "He's played hob. And he's likely to return at any minute."

"Then let us go quickly. I have no desire to meet the objectionable Mr. Von Blitz. Isn't it dreadfully dangerous here, Mr. Chase?" He mistook the slight tremour in her voice for that of fear. A quaint look came into his face, the lines about the corners of his mouth drooping dolefully.

"Mr. Chase?" he said, with his winning smile. "Now?"

"Yes, now and always, Mr. Chase," she said steadily. "You know that it cannot be otherwise. I can't always be a fool."

His face turned a deep red; his lips parted for retort to this truculent estimate, but he controlled himself.

"Yes, it is dangerous here," he said quietly, answering her question. "As soon as Selim bars that door upon the inside, we'll go. I was a fool to bring you here."

"How could you know what the dangers would be?" she asked.

"I'll confess I didn't expect Von Blitz," he said drily.

"But you did expect—" she began, with a start, biting her lips.

"There's a vast difference between expectation and hope, Princess." Neenah had joined Selim at the door when the men re-entered the chamber. Now she was approaching with her husband.

"May Allah bless you and profit for Himself, excellencies," said the good Selim. Neenah plainly had advanced her suspicions to the brown body-servant. Genevra blushed and then her eyes blazed. She gave the girl a scornful look; Neenah smiled happily, unreservedly in return.

"Allah help us, you should say, if Von Blitz returns," interposed Chase hastily. "Is the door barred?"

"No, excellency. The bars have sprung, I cannot drop them in place. As you know, the lock has been blown away. The charge sprung the bolts. We must go at once."

"Then there is no way to keep them out of the château?" cried Genevra anxiously.

"They can go no farther than this room," explained Selim. "We lock the double iron doors from the other side—the door through which you came, most glorious excellency—and they cannot enter the cellars above. This is the chamber which opens into the underground passage to the coast. The passage was made for escape from the château in case of trouble and was known to but few. My father was the servant of Sahib Wyckholme, and I used to live in the château. We came to the island when I was a baby. My father had been with the sahib in Africa. I came to know of this passage, for my father and my mother were to go with the masters if there was an attack. Five years ago I was given a place in the company's office, and I never came up here after my parents died of the plague. We were—"

"The plague!" cried the Princess.

"It was said to have been the plague," said Selim bitterly. "They died in great convulsions while spending the night in the Khan. That's the inn of Aratat, excellencies. The great sahibs sent their stomachs away to be examined—"

"Never mind, Selim," said Chase. "Tell us about the passage there."

"Once there was a boat—a launch, which lay hidden below the cliffs on the north coast. The passage led to this boat. It was always ready to put out to sea. But one night it was destroyed by the great rocks which fell from the cliffs in an earthquake. When I came here, I at once thought of the passage. You will see that the doors into the cellar cannot be opened from this chamber; the locks and bolts are on the other side. I knew where the keys were hidden. It was easy to unlock the doors and come into this room. I found that some one had been here before me. The door to the passage had been forced open from without—cracked by dynamite. Many of the treasure boxes have been removed. Von Blitz was here not an hour ago. He wears boots. I saw the footprints among the naked ones in the passage. They will come back for the other chests. Then they will blow up the passage way with powder and escape from the château through it will be cut off. I have found the kegs of powder in the passage and have destroyed the fuses. It will be of no avail, sahib. They will blow it up at the other end, which will be just the same."

"There's no time to be lost," cried Chase. "We must bring enough men down here to capture them when they return—shoot 'em if necessary. Come on! We can surprise them if we hurry."

They were starting across the chamber toward the door, when a gruff, sepulchral oath came rolling up to the chamber through the secret passage. Quick as a flash Selim, who realised that they could not reach and open the door leading to the stairs, turned in among the huge wine casks, first blinding his lantern. He whispered for the others to follow. In a moment they were squeezing themselves through the narrow spaces between the dark, strong-smelling casks, back into a darkness so opaque that it seemed lifeless. Selim halted them in a recess near the wall and there they huddled, breathlessly awaiting the approach of the invaders.

"They won't suspect that we are here," whispered Selim as the door to the passage creaked. "Keep quiet! Don't breathe!"

The single electric light was still burning, as Selim had found it when he first came. The door swung open slowly, heavily, and Jacob von Blitz, half naked, mud-covered, reeking with perspiration, and panting savagely, stepped into the light. Behind him came a man with a lantern, and behind him two others.

They were white men, all. Von Blitz turned suddenly and cursed the man with the lantern. The fellow was ready to drop with exhaustion. Evidently it had been no easy task to remove the chests.