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SOPHY OF KRAVONIA "Our journey together will be all the pleasanter for that."

"Your business with me, please?"

"I have it in command from his Majesty to escort you to Slavna—to the Palace and into his presence. The King himself will then acquaint you with his wishes."

"You're a strange messenger to send."

"That's a point to put to my superior officer, Colonel Stafnitz, who sent me, Baroness."

Sophy pointed at his men. "You ride strongly supported!"

"Again the Colonel's orders, Baroness. I confess the precautions seemed to me excessive. I had no doubt you would willingly obey his Majesty's commands. Here, by -the -way, is the written order."

He produced the order the King had signed before his death.

Sophy had been thinking. Neither her courage nor her cunning forsook her. She waved the document away. "I can take your word, Captain? You're making no mistake to-day?—I really am Baroness Dobrava—not somebody else with whom you have a feud?" She laughed at him gayly and went on: "Well, I'm ready. I'm dressed for a ride— and I'll ride with you immediately. In two minutes we'll be off." She saw a groom in the road staring at the troopers, and called to him to bring her a horse.

This prompt obedience by no means suited Mistitch's book. It forced him either to show his hand or to ride off with Sophy, leaving the Prince to his devices—and, in a little while, to his revenge.

"I mustn't hurry you. You have some preparations—?"

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