“Leopold!” she whispered. “Leopold, come back! Mad king you may have been, but still you were king of Lutha—my father’s king—my king.”

“You really think that they intend murdering me?”

“I have no men, I am alone,” replied Barney. “I am a stranger in Lutha and have lost my way.”

“A stranger in Lutha he calls himself,” replied one of Barney’s captors. “But from the sword I take it he is one of old Peter’s wolfhounds.”

“Man!” he exclaimed. “Tell me—you have found the true king? He is at a hospital in Tafelberg?”

“Intercept that squadron and direct the major to move due east along the King’s Road to the grove,” he commanded. “We will join him there.”

“My God!” he exclaimed at last. “You mean that you wish me to murder Leopold with my own hands?”

“You are Leopold Rubinroth, sire, by the grace of God, king of Lutha,” cried the frightened man. “Have mercy on an old man, your majesty.”

How long he slept he did not know, but some time during the night he was awakened by the sound of voices apparently close to his ear.

“Do not make an outcry,” he whispered in very poor Serbian. “I am not Stefan; but I am a friend.”

“Pardon me, general,” interrupted Maenck. “I am well acquainted with Mr. Custer, who spent some time in Lutha a couple of years ago. This man is not he.”

Barney clung to him for several minutes longer, until there was not the slightest indication of remaining life.

“You forget yourself, Prince von der Tann,” he cried. “Leave our presence. When we again desire to be insulted we shall send for you.”

Leopold shook his head. “You do not know her,” he said. “You do not know the Von der Tann nature—one cannot force a Von der Tann.”

He advanced from behind his tree until he saw the two figures—a man’s and a woman’s.

“The cowards!” muttered Barney as the enemy’s shot announced his sinister intention; “they might have hit your highness.”

“As God is my judge, your majesty,” cried Peter of Blentz, “this man was shot by an Austrian firing squad in Burgova over a week ago.”

“We have thought of everything,” interrupted Barney. “A throne means less to us than you may imagine, count; but the honor of Lutha means a great deal.”

“The king is dead,” he said. “Long live the king!”

“Let the King of Lutha,” he said, “be the first to salute Lutha’s queen.”