The George Barr McCutcheon MEGAPACK ®. George Barr McCutcheon

to snatch the document from her hands. A half-written Yetive, a blot and a long, spluttering scratch of the pen told how near she had come to signing away the lands of Graustark, forgetful of the fact that it could be of no benefit to the prisoner she loved.

      “Yetive!” gasped her uncle, in horror.

      “She would have signed,” cried Gaspon, in wonder and alarm.

      “Yes, I would have signed!” she exclaimed, starting to her feet, strong and defiant. “I could not have saved his life, perhaps, but I might have saved him from the cruel injustice that that man’s vengeance would have invented. He is innocent, and I would give my kingdom to stay the wrong that will be done.”

      “What! You defend the dog!” cried Bolaroz. “Seize him, men! I will see that justice is done. It is no girl he has to deal with now.”

      “Stop!” cried the Princess, the command checking the men. Quinnox leaped in front of his charge. “He is my prisoner, and he shall have justice. Keep back your soldiery, Prince Bolaroz. It is a girl you have to deal with. I will say to you all, my people and yours, that I believe him to be innocent and that I sincerely regret his capture, fortunate as it may be for us. He shall have a fair and a just trial, and I shall do all in my power, Prince Bolaroz, to secure his acquittal.”

      “Why do you take this stand, Yetive? Why have you tried to shield him?” cried the heartbroken Halfont.

      She drew herself to her full height, and, sweeping the threatening crowd with a challenge in her eyes, cried, the tones ringing strong and clear above the growing tumult:

      “Because I love him!”

      As if by magic the room became suddenly still.

      “Behold an honest man. I would have saved him at the cost of my honor. Scorn me if you will, but listen to this. The man who stands here accused came voluntarily to this castle, surrendering himself to Captain Quinnox, that he might, though innocent, stand between us and disaster. He was safe from our pursuit, yet returned, perhaps to his death. For me, for you and for Graustark he has done this. Is there a man among you who would have done as much for his own country? Yet he does this for a country to which he is stranger. I must commit him to prison once more. But,” she cried in sudden fierceness, “I promise him now, before the trial, a royal pardon. Do I make my meaning clear to you, Prince Bolaroz?”

      The white lips of the old Prince could frame no reply to this daring speech.

      “Be careful whet you say, your Highness,” cried the prisoner, hastily. “I must refuse to accept a pardon at the cost of your honor. It is because I love you better than my life that I stand here. I cannot allow you and your people to suffer when it is in my power to prevent it. All that I can ask is fairness and justice. I am not guilty, and God will protect me. Prince Bolaroz, I call upon you to keep your promise. I am not the slayer of your son, but I am the man you would send to the block, guilty or innocent.”

      As he spoke, the Princess dropped back in the chair, her rash courage gone. A stir near the doorway followed his concluding sentence, and the other American stepped forward, his face showing his excitement.

      “Your Highness,” he said, “I should have spoken sooner. My lips were parted and ready to cry out when Prince Gabriel interposed and prevented the signing of the decree. Grenfall Lorry did not kill the young Prince. I can produce the guilty man!”

      CHAPTER XXVI

      THE GUESSING OF ANGUISH

      The startling assertion created a fresh sensation. Sensations had come so thick and so fast, however, that they seemed component parts of one grand bewildering climax. The new actor in the drama held the center of the stage undisputed.

      “Harry!” cried Lorry.

      “Prince Gabriel, why do you shake like a leaf? Is it because you know what I am going to say?” exclaimed Anguish, pointing his finger accusingly at the astonished Prince of Dawsbergen.

      Gabriel’s lips parted, but nothing more than a gasp escaped them. Involuntarily his eyes sought the door, then the windows, the peculiar uncontrollable look of the hunted coming into them. Bolaroz allowed his gaze to leap instantly to that pallid face and every eye in the room followed. Yetive was standing again, her face glowing.

      “An accomplice has confessed all. I have the word of the man who saw the crime committed. I charge Prince Gabriel with the murder of His Highness, Prince Lorenz.”

      With a groan, Gabriel threw his hands to his heart and tottered forward, glaring at the merciless face of the accuser.

      “Confessed! Betrayed!” he faltered. Then he whirled like a maniac upon his little coterie of followers. “Vile traitor!” he shrieked, “I will drink your heart’s blood!”

      With a howl he leaped toward one of the men, a darkfaced nobleman named Berrowag. The latter evaded him and rushed toward the door, crying:

      “It is a lie! a lie! He has tricked you! I did not confess!”

      The Prince was seized by his friends, struggling and cursing. A peculiar smile lit up the face of Harry Anguish.

      “I repeat, he is the assassin!”

      Gabriel broke from the detaining hands and drawing a revolver, rushed for the door.

      “Out of the way! I will not be taken alive!”

      Allode met him at the curtains and grasped him in his powerful arms, Baron Dangloss and others tearing the weapon from his hand. The utmost confusion reigned—women screaming, men shouting—and above all could be heard the howls of the accused Prince.

      “Let me go! Curse you! Curse you! I will not surrender! Let me kill that traitor! Let me at him!” Berrowag had been seized by willing hands, and the two men glared at each other, one crazy with rage, the other shrinking with fear.

      Dangloss and Allode half carried, half dragged the Prince forward. As he neared Bolaroz and the Princess he collapsed and became a trembling, moaning suppliant for mercy. Anguish’s accusation had struck home.

      “Prince Bolaroz, I trust you will not object if the Princess Yetive substitutes the true assassin for the man named in your promise to Graustark,” said Anguish, dramatically. Bolaroz, as if coming from a dream, turned and knelt before the throne.

      “Most adorable Yetive,” he said; “I sue for pardon. I bow low and lay my open heart before the truest woman in the world.” He kissed the black lace hem of her gown and arose. “I am your friend and ally; Axphain and Graustark will live no more with hatred in their hearts. From you I have learned a lesson in justice and constancy.”

      Prince Gabriel was raving like a madman as the officers hurried him and Berrowag from the room. A shout went up from those assembled. Its echo, reaching the halls, then the gardens, was finally taken up by the waiting masses beyond the gates. The news flew like wild-fire. Rejoicing, such as had never been known, shook Edelweiss until the monks on the mountain looked down in wonder.

      After the dazed and happy throng about the throne had heaped its expressions of love and devotion upon the radiant Princess a single figure knelt in subjection, just as she was preparing to depart. It was the Duke of Mizrox.

      “Your Royal Highness, Mizrox is ready to pay his forfeit. My life is yours,” he said, calmly. She did not comprehend until her uncle reminded her of the oath Mizrox had taken the morning after the murder.

      “He swore, on his life, that you killed Lorenz,” she said, turning to Lorry.

      “I was wrong, but I am willing to pay the penalty. My love for Lorenz was greater than my discretion. That is my only excuse, but it is one you should not accept,” said Mizrox, as coolly as if announcing the time of day. Lorry looked first at him and then at the Princess, bewildered and uncertain.

      “I have no ill will against you, my Lord Duke. Release him from his bond your Highness.”

      “Gladly, since you refuse to hold him to his oath,” she said.

      “I