‘You have been betrayed, madam,’ I observed at last. ‘That servant was a traitor. I saw it in his face.’
Draga uttered a cry of despair.
‘You, Anna, you go and bring the King here at all costs.’
Anna darted out of the room.
The Queen, too terribly anxious to go on with her own preparations for flight, paced the room like a lioness listening for the approach of the hunters.
Five minutes passed—ten minutes—a quarter of a year! Then a step was heard in the adjoining room, and the young King of Servia, his dark face flushed with wrath, strode in.
‘What is all this? Are you trying to frighten me, Draga?’
He saw me and stopped, at the same time putting his hand to his side where his sword should have been. The weapon was missing, perhaps by accident.
‘This is our best friend, Alexander. He has come to save us. The assassins have changed their plans, and will be here to-night. A special train has been got ready, and if you can leave the Palace in disguise, all will be well.’
The ascendency of a powerful intellect in the moment of danger made itself felt. Alexander looked about him, half-dazed, as the poor youth well might be, by the ghastly imminence of the peril.