"The Marienkastel."
They left the Brunvarad, Karl leading, by the great doorway at the base of the armoury tower. Here a couple of horses were awaiting them—big, yellow, maize-fed brutes, raw-boned and angular, but serviceable steeds on a rough path or a frozen highway.
"I should feel a little happier if you would take me into your complete confidence," said Karl as they rode out of the palace courtyard. "So far, I have listened to one-sided conversations on the telephone, and brusque orders to breathless aides-de-camp, but I hardly know what portions of Weissheim are still mine and which are Gloria's."
"The enemy have taken the Marienkastel, as we intended they should, but—they have taken it three-quarters of an hour too soon. The insufferable Trafford,—who saved your life and rent your kingdom,—has the subtlety of the serpent without the harmlessness of the dove. He enfiladed Saunders' trench in the bob-sleigh run with curling-stones, and in the confusion Bernhardt rushed the Schloss."
"Cannot we re-capture it?" asked Karl. "I should not mind leading the forlorn hope."
"As my place is by my royal master's side," responded Meyer drily, "I must veto the suggestion with all the authority I possess."
"Then what are we to do?"
"Employ the enthusiasm of others, repress our own. Von Hügelweiler, who hates Trafford and loves Gloria,—and therefore would like to destroy them both,—is waiting in Drechler's farm at the top of Sanatorium Hill with a park of howitzers. When he gets the order the mortars will talk. The distances have been carefully measured, and the Marienkastel may already be numbered among the disappearing relics of old Grimland."
"And the Princess Gloria?" asked Karl.
"Will cease to be an effective factor in Grimland politics."