He gave a shout that rang through the garden.
“Seize them!” he cried; “kill any that resist!” knowing very well that it would require the killing of them all. He, himself, drew his revolver and stepped to one side—a safer place than in the fighting line, and one where he could get a surer shot at the Archduke, if it were necessary.
But even twelve men hesitate to close with five, whose swords are ready; and in the instant’s pause, Dehra, flinging off her hat, sprang between Bigler and the Archduke, and covered the former with her pistol.
“God in Heaven! the Princess!” he cried, and stared at her.
“Will you play with treason, my lord Count?” she asked. “Drop that revolver!—drop it, I say!—and you men, stand aside!—into line, so!—return swords!—now, by the left flank, march!—fall in behind, Count, if you please—march!”
With a laugh and a shrug he obeyed.
“The Regent commands,” he said.—“Attention! salute!” and with hands to visors the column went by; while Dehra, fingers at forehead in acknowledgment, watched it pass and go down the drive toward the Palace.
Then she turned, and put out her hand to the Archduke.
“I’m tired, dear,” she said, “very tired——Captain De Coursey, will you bring the carriage to the gate?”