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 "they are watching us. I'm not going through with this. They are watching us. I'm going back."

Pestovitch remonstrated. "Tell him to go back," said the king, and tried to open the window. For a few moments there was a grim struggle in the automobile; a gripping of wrists and a blow. "I can't go through with it," repeated the king, "I can't go through with it."

"But they'll hang us," said Pestovitch.

"Not if we were to give up now. Not if we were to surrender the bombs. It is you who brought me into this"

At last Pestovitch compromised. There was an inn perhaps half a mile from the farm. They could alight there and the king could get brandy, and rest his nerves for a time. And if he still thought fit to go back he could go back.

"See," said Pestovitch, "the light has gone again."

The king peered up. "I believe he's following us without a light," said the king.

In the little old dirty inn the king hung doubtful for a time, and was for going back and throwing himself on the mercy of the council. "If there is a council," said Pestovitch. "By this time your bombs may have settled it."

"But if so, these infernal aeroplanes would go."

"They may not know yet."