He shook his head. Then they saw that he would speak again, and the murmur of voices died away. Reist leaned over towards them, and his face was very pale. This was his renunciation.
“My people,” he said, “listen. Many of you have heard of the war which the English have been carrying on in Egypt. You have heard perhaps of a Captain Erlito, who, with a dozen men, held a Nile fort for two days against a thousand dervishes, and for this and other acts of valour has won the Iron Cross. But this at least you do not know. Captain Erlito is the assumed name of Ughtred of Tyrnaus, Prince of Theos.”
The murmur of voices became a roar of acclamation. Then Nicholas of Reist raised his voice at once.
“Listen, men of Theos,” he cried. “Is it your will that I seek out for you Prince Ughtred and offer him the throne of Theos? Think well before you answer. He is a soldier, a brave and honest man, and he is of the royal race of Tyrnaus, who for many generations have been Kings of Theos. He will not sell you to Russia or beckon the hosts of the Sultan across the mountains. Will you have him for your King?”
The square, nay, the city, rang with their passionate answer. Never was anything more unanimous. Nicholas stepped back into the room. His sister faced him with blazing eyes and cheeks dyed red with anger.
“Fool!” she cried, “fool! They would have made you King. They were yours to do what you would with. You have been false to your destiny. I will never forgive you, Nicholas.”
He smiled curiously, and pointed upwards to that deep-engraven legend.
“My time,” he said, “is not yet.”