“Surrender!” cried the officer, as his eyes fell upon Mortimer’s uniform.
“Surrender!” repeated Mortimer, with rage. “How dare you utter that word in the King’s palace to an officer of the King’s Guard? Back, you horde of rebels, I say, or I will cut a path through you!”
From behind him there came an exclamation of fear, a plaintive appeal to him to stop, but he heard it not and, with upraised sword, he advanced upon the men barring his passage. The officer raised his sword in an attitude of defense and a dozen rifles instantly flashed into position.
“Halt! Do not fire!” came suddenly the sharp command from the rear and a tall and commanding figure forced its way through the ranks. An instant later, Mortimer found himself confronted by General Mainwarren.
“Do not fire!” repeated General Mainwarren to his men. “I place this officer and all these here under my special protection.”
“But I cannot—I will not—avail myself of your protection!” cried Mortimer, still standing with upraised sword. “I will force my way through to my men, or fall in the attempt!”
“There will be no necessity for that,” said General Mainwarren, gently. “Your passage shall not be barred and you shall be free to go where you will. But,” he added, calmly, “it will be useless to seek your soldiers, for they are all dead.”
“Dead!” repeated Mortimer aghast.
From the grounds without came a great cry:
“Long live the New Republic!”