Leopold at last found his voice, though it trembled and broke as he spoke.
“Carry out the sentence of the Austrian court in the morning,” he said. “A volley now might arouse the garrison in the town and be misconstrued.”
Maenck ordered Barney escorted from the apartment, then he turned toward the king.
“And the other prisoner, sire?” he inquired.
“There is no other prisoner,” he said. “Her highness, the Princess von der Tann, is a guest of Prince Peter. She will be escorted to her apartment at once.”
“Her highness, the Princess von der Tann, is not a guest of Prince Peter.” The girl’s voice was low and cold. “If Mr. Custer is a prisoner, her highness, too, is a prisoner. If he is to be shot, she demands a like fate. To die by the side of a MAN would be infinitely preferable to living by the side of your majesty.”
Once again Leopold of Lutha reddened. For a moment he paced the room angrily to hide his emotion. Then he turned once to Maenck.
“Escort the prisoner to the north tower,” he commanded, “and this insolent girl to the chambers next to ours. Tomorrow we shall talk with her again.”
Outside the room Barney turned for a last look at the princess as he was being led in one direction and she in another. A smile of encouragement was on his lips and cold hopelessness in his heart. She answered the smile and her lips formed a silent “good-bye.” They formed something else, too—three words which he was sure he could not have mistaken, and then they parted, he for the death chamber and she for what fate she could but guess.
As his guard halted before a door at the far end of a long corridor Barney Custer sensed a sudden familiarity in his surroundings. He was conscious of that sensation which is common to all of us—of having lived through a scene at some former time, to each minutest detail.