“You are too soft-hearted, Count. Our only safety lies in Herr Bennett’s death. Mark my words, it is his life or ours in the end. This is no time for gentle deeds and kindly words. We’ll be captured in this hole, as sure as Wilhelm reigns. If we kill Bennett and conceal his body, we can prove to Wilhelm that we followed Rudolph in the interest of the new régime. Verstehen Sie? Am I not right?”
The horrified princess could not catch the count’s answer. She strained her ear in vain, but the rat-hole no longer served her purpose as an eavesdropper. How long she lay motionless she knew not, but after a time the snoring of the conspirators convinced her that they had ceased their plotting for a time and were plunged in sleep.
The princess arose softly, grasped the revolver that she had placed on the floor near her bed, and stole toward the entrance to the chamber. As she pulled aside the curtains and glanced furtively around the larger room she saw that one candle still burned dimly in a corner near the main entrance. By its flickering gleams she could make out the figure of the exhausted American as he lay, sprawled in broken slumbers, in an antique chair near the door through which he expected the return of Cousin Fritz.
As she approached Bennett a feeling of mingled tenderness and repentance came over her. This man had been in peril of his life, and she had harshly accused him of a crime. Was it not more than possible that she had always misjudged him; that he had found it impracticable to fulfil the oath he had sworn to her in the Hall of Armor? Surely he had not promised to leave the castle before the morning, and the morning, she imagined, was only just breaking. She glanced down at his white, clear-cut face, rendered almost ghastly by the dim light in contrast with his black, luxuriant hair.
“Herr Bennett,” she whispered gently, bending forward and placing a hand upon his shoulder. He awoke on the instant and their eyes met.
“Take your pistol,” she said simply. “You are still in grave danger. I did you an injustice.”
He had sprung to his feet, a mournful smile playing across his face.
“Your royal highness,” he said, “I thank you from my heart—not for the weapon but for your words.”
A flush arose to her cheeks and there came into her eyes a light as sweet as the dawn that drove the shadows from the hills outside.