"It seems to me," said Trafford, "that to go forward is madness, to go back madness, to stay here is madness; and as we must do one of these three things, madness is our portion. Now the most effective kind of lunacy seems to me to stay here till night-fall."
"And then hazard a night attack?" questioned Gloria hopefully.
"Not an attack," rejoined Trafford. "Meyer has very sound theories of defence, and his searchlights are sure to be in excellent working order. No; we must drop the soldier and become burglars. Where a thousand, or even a hundred, would fail, half a dozen may succeed; and the object of our burglary must be Karl. If we can secure his person and return with it to the capital, we shall have done all,—or nearly all,—we attempted. Weissheim is loyal to an individual not a dynasty, and Karl in the Strafeburg would be a much less attractive person than Karl in the Brunvarad."
Bernhardt laughed softly.
"I begin to have hopes of you again," he said.
Gloria clapped her hands excitedly.
"I knew you would find some way out of the difficulty!" she cried. "There is no such thing as despair with you in our counsels."
"I am fighting for a high stake," Trafford replied. "If I can win success out of the tangled disorder of our fortunes you——"
"If you can capture Karl," she interrupted, "I am sure there will be no political objection to your being—being my consort."
"Only personal objections?" he hazarded.