“You had my orders, Ruttens, and my special commission. A few good men we must have in Theos.”
“There are rascals enough, your Majesty,” Ruttens said, with grave face. “There are a good many aliens, too, whose presence here I cannot understand. They pay their way, and hang round the squares in little groups, always whispering to themselves. They call themselves farmers and shopkeepers from the frontier, but there is little of the Thetian in their faces to my mind. The city were healthier cleared of them, your Majesty.”
The King smiled bitterly.
“But how, my good Ruttens?” he exclaimed. “You and your few veterans would be powerless against them.”
Ruttens sighed.
“It is true, your Majesty,” he answered. “To be frank, I have put them down in my mind as creatures of Domiloff. And though to-day I will endeavour to effect his arrest I fear very much that he is well guarded against anything of the sort.”
Once more the courtyard rang with the clatter of hoofs. There was commotion below and in the palace.
“It is word from the front,” the King cried.
The messenger stood before him.
“Your Majesty,” he announced, “General Dartnoff has telegraphed that he is engaged. He adds that there seems to be some extensive movement preparing.”