"Would that improve matters?" asked Mr. Neville.
"That I cannot say. The next heir to the throne is a cousin, with little Rudarlian in him; from all accounts he resembles the present man in tastes and habits. Ah! if only I had been in Karena twenty years ago, with just the troops I have here, history would have been written differently, and Rudarlia would have been another country, unless Merlin's son had developed badly. As it was, I, with many more Loyalists, had been sent by a hound of a Minister to the other end of the country; when we got back it was all over. The whole of the reigning family, father, mother, and son, had been assassinated; and the present man Ivan was King, he had been waiting near the frontier for the word to come."
"Had they no one to defend them?"
"Those who did were shot without scruple. You know the miscreant fired the royal apartments, burning the bodies of the Queen and the Crown Prince; they were only recognised by the jewellery found on the charred remains."
"What a terrible crime it was!" I said.
Colonel von Quarovitch sprang to his feet.
"Crime!" he cried, shaking his clenched fists above his head. "Crime! God's curse on the authors of it, it has ruined my country."
We stayed only a few minutes after this, finally wishing him good night, and retired.
As we reached the inn, Mr. Neville and I looked at each other.
"Thank God for such men as that," said my companion.