Part 41 (1/2)

”My boy, what put that question into your mind?”

”She says she has to. I thought only princes and princesses had to marry people they don't want to.”

”You should not believe all that you hear.”

Bobby was silent for twenty steps. Then he said: ”Well, I think she'll make an awful mistake if she lets Mr. King get away.”

”My boy, we have other affairs to trouble us at present without taking up the affairs of Miss Tullis.”

”Well, he saved her life, just like they do in story books,” protested the Prince.

”Well, you run in and tell her this minute that Mr. King sends his love to her and begs her to rest easy. See if it doesn't cheer her up a bit.”

”Maybe she's worried about Uncle Jack. I never thought about that,” he faltered.

”Uncle Jack will come out on top, never fear,” cried the old man.

Half an hour later, Truxton King, shaven and shorn, outfitted and polished, received orders to ride for twenty minutes back and forth across the Plaza. He came down from Colonel Quinnox's rooms in the officer's row, considerably mystified, and mounted the handsome bay that he had brought through the gates. Haddan, of the Guard, rode with him to the Plaza, but could offer no explanation for the curious command.

Five times the now resentful American walked his horse across the Plaza, directly in front of the terrace and the great balconies. About him paced guardsmen, armed and alert; on the outer edge of the parade ground a company of soldiers were hurrying through the act of changing the Guard; in the lower balcony excited men and women were walking back and forth, paying not the least attention to him. Above him frowned the grey, lofty walls of the Castle. No one was in view on the upper balcony, beyond which he had no doubt lay the royal chambers. He had the mean, uncomfortable feeling that people were peering at him from remote windows.

Suddenly a small figure in bright red and gold and waving a tiny sword appeared at the rail of the broad upper gallery. Truxton blinked his eyes once or, twice and then doffed his hat. The Prince was smiling eagerly.

”h.e.l.lo!” he called. Truxton drew rein directly below him.

”I trust your Highness has recovered from the shock of to-day,” he responded. ”I have been terribly anxious. Are you quite well?”

”Quite well, thank you.” He hesitated for a moment, as if in doubt.

Then: ”Say, Mr. King, how's your leg?”

Truxton looked around in sudden embarra.s.sment. A number of distressed, white-faced ladies had paused in the lower gallery and were staring at him in mingled curiosity and alarm. He instantly wondered if Colonel Quinnox's riding clothes were as good a fit as he had been led to believe through Hobbs and others.

”It's--it's fine, thank you,” he called up, trying to subdue his voice as much as possible.

Bobby looked a trifle uncertain. His glance wavered and a queer little wrinkle appeared between his eyes. He lowered his voice when he next spoke.

”Say, would you mind shouting that a little louder,” he called down, leaning well over the rail.

Truxton flushed. He was pretty sure that the Prince was not deaf. There was no way out of it, however, so he repeated his communication.

”It's all right, your Highness.”

Bobby gave a quick glance over his shoulder at one of the broad windows.

Truxton distinctly saw the blinds close with a convulsive jerk.

”Thanks! Much obliged! Good-bye!” sang out the Prince, gleefully. He waved his hand and then hopped off the chair on which he was standing.

Truxton heard his little heels clatter across the stone balcony. For a moment he was nonplused.

”Well, I'm--By Jove! I understand!” He rode off toward the barracks, his head swimming with joy, his heart jumping like mad. At the edge of the parade ground he turned in his saddle and audaciously lifted his hat to the girl who, to his certain knowledge, was standing behind the tell-tale blind.