“I give you my parole.”
The next instant a dozen eager hands were clutching at the conspirator on all sides, and Von Sigismark’s voice rang out—
“Take him away, and chain him in the strongest room in the Castle.”
Before the soldiers had time to do anything, a counter-order came sternly and proudly from the lips of the King.
“Stop! Release your prisoner. He has our pardon.”
The Chancellor made a step forward, dismay and incredulity written on his face.
“Pardon me, Sire,” he ventured to remonstrate, “but this man came here with the intention of assassinating you. See, there is his pistol on the floor.”
Hearing the Chancellor’s words, one or two of the soldiers thought fit to retain their hold of the prisoner, till they saw what would come of it. The young King noticed this partial disobedience, and turned upon them pale with anger.
“Fellows, did you hear me?” he demanded, in such threatening tones, that they fairly cowered. “Release this man, I say!”
The men saw their mistake; they forthwith let go their hold, and Johann stood erect.