The Countess's story was soon told. Sitting before the great fire, surrounded by eager listeners, she related her experiences. Prince Dantan was her most attentive listener.
She had been seized on the night of the ball as she started across her father's garden. Before sunrise she was well on her way to Balak, in charge of three of the Count's most faithful henchmen. As for the messages that were sent to Edelweiss, she knew nothing of them, except the last, which she had managed to get through with the assistance of Josepha's father. She was kept a close prisoner in a house just outside of Balak, and came to learn all of the infamous projects of her husband. At the end of ten days her maid was sent to her from Edelweiss. She brought the news of the calamity that had befallen the city. It was then that she determined to break away from her captors and try to reach the Monastery of St. Valentine, where protection would be afforded her for the time being. After several days of ardent persuasion, she and Josepha prevailed upon the latter's father to assist them in their flight. Not only was he persuaded, but in the end he journeyed with them through the wildest country north of Ganlook. They were four days in covering the distance, partly on foot, partly by horse. Near the city they heard of the presence of troops near the Monastery. Farmers' wives told them of the newly formed army and of its leaders. She determined to make her way to the camp of those who would destroy her husband, eager to give them any assistance that her own knowledge of Marlanx's plans might provide.
Many details are omitted in this brief recital of her story. Perhaps it is well to leave something to the imagination.
One bit of information she gave created no end of consternation among the would-be deliverers of the city. It had the effect of making them all the more resolute; the absolute necessity for immediately regaining control in the city was forced upon them. She told them that Count Marlanx had lately received word that the Grand Duke Paulus was likely to intervene before many days, acting on his own initiative, in the belief that he could force the government of Graustark to grant the railway privileges so much desired by his country. Marlanx realised that he would have to forestall the wily Grand Duke. If he were in absolute control of the Graustark government when the Russian appeared, he and he alone would be in a position to deal with the situation. Unless the Castle fell into his hands beforehand, insuring the fall of the royal house and the ministry, the Grand Duke's natural inclination would be to first befriend the hapless Prince and then to demand recompense in whatsoever form he saw fit.
"The Grand Duke may send a large force of men across the border at any time," said the Countess in conclusion. "Count Marlanx is sure to make a decisive assault as soon as he hears that the movement has begun. He had hopes of starving them out, thus saving the Castle from destruction, but as that seems unlikely, his shells will soon begin to rain in earnest upon the dear old pile."
Truxton King was listening with wide open ears. As she finished this dreary prediction he silently arose to his feet and, without a word to any one, stalked off in the darkness. Tullis looked after him and shook his head sadly.
"I'll be happy on that fellow's account when daybreak comes and we are really at it," he said to Prince Dantan, who knew something of King's affliction.
But Truxton King was not there at daybreak. When he strode out of the camp that night, he left it behind forever.
The unfortunate lack of means to communicate with the occupants of the Castle had been the source of great distress to Captain Haas. If the defenders could be informed as to the exact hour of the assault from the outside, they could do much toward its speedy success by making a fierce sortie from behind their own walls. A quick dash from the Castle grounds would serve to draw Marlanx's attention in that direction, diminishing the force that he would send to check the onslaught at the gates. But there was no means of getting word to Colonel Quinnox. His two or three hundred men would be practically useless at the most critical period of the demonstration.
Truxton King had all this in mind as he swung off down the mountain road, having stolen past the sentries with comparative ease. He was smiling to himself. If all went well with him, Colonel Quinnox would be able to rise to the occasion. If he failed in the daring mission he had elected to perform, the only resulting harm would be to himself; the plans of the besiegers would not suffer.