“Will you wait here until I return?” asked Ned Strong of Posadowski. “There are several matters about which I must consult you.” He made a gesture toward a black shadow in a corner near the window.
“I will stay here with two or three of my men,” answered the arch-conspirator deferentially. “We are truly anxious, Mr. Strong, to save you from all further annoyance.”
As Prince Carlo and Ned Strong crossed the lawn and made toward the lodge, they found themselves followed by several Rexanians, who clung close to them but maintained a respectful silence. Suddenly Ned Strong turned and faced them.
“What will you have?” he asked, angrily. “Is it not enough that you have been kidnappers and housebreakers, without becoming permanent nuisances?”
“Pardon us, Mr. Strong,” answered the gigantic Posnovitch, deferentially; “we have no wish to annoy you, but it is fitting that the Crown Prince of Rexania should have a body-guard.”
Ned Strong placed his hand upon the arm of his royal friend.
“Your countrymen, Prince Carlo,” he murmured, “are strangely inconsistent. They would crucify you at one moment and crown you the next.”
“’Tis true, my friend,” returned the prince sadly. “They illustrate the fickleness of the human race both in its dealings with kings and with God. But God reigns, and kings still live.”
At this moment they entered the corridor of the lodge and groped their way toward the room in which Kate Strong and Mrs. Brevoort listened apprehensively to the sounds of approaching footsteps.