The George Barr McCutcheon MEGAPACK ®. George Barr McCutcheon

in the city. Messengers were sent to all towns in the district; armed posses scoured the valley and the surrounding forests, explored the caves and brush heaps for miles around. The chagrin of the grim old Captain, who had never lost a prisoner, was pitiful to behold.

      The forenoon was half over before Harry Anguish heard of his friend’s escape. To say that he was paralyzed would be putting it much too mildly. There is no language that can adequately describe his sensations. Forgetting his bodyguard, he tore down the street toward the prison, wild with anxiety and doubt. He met Baron Dangloss, tired and worn, near the gate, but the old officer could tell him nothing except what he had learned from Ogbot. Of one thing there could be no doubt: Lorry was gone. Not knowing where to turn nor what to do, Anguish raced off to the castle, his bodyguard having located him in the meantime. He was more in need of their protection than ever. At the castle gates he encountered a party of raving Axphainians, crazed with anger over the flight of the man whose life they had thirsted for so ravenously. Had he been unprotected, Anguish would have fared badly at their hands, for they were outspoken in their assertions that he had aided Lorry in the escape. One fiery little fellow cast a glove in the American’s face and expected a challenge. Anguish snapped his fingers and sarcastically invited the insulter to meet him next winter in a battle with snowballs, upon which the aggressor blasphemed in three languages and three hundred gestures. Anguish and his men passed inside the gates, which had been barred to the others, and struck out rapidly for the castle doors.

      The Princess Yetive was sleeping’ soundly, peacefully, with a smile on her lips, when her Prime Minister sent an excited attendant to inform her of the prisoner’s escape. She sat up in bed, and, with her hands clasped about her knees, sleepily announced that she would receive him after her coffee was served. Then she thought of the wild, sweet ride to the monastery, the dangerous return, her entrance to the castle through the secret subterranean passage and the safe arrival in her own room. All had gone well and he was safe. She smiled quaintly as she glanced at the bundle of clothes on the floor, blue and black and red. They had been removed in the underground passage and a loose gown substituted, but she had carried them to her chamber with the intention of placing them for the time being in the old mahogany chest that held so many of her childhood treasures. Springing out of bed, she opened the chest, cast them into its depths, turned and removed the key which had always remained in the lock. Then she summoned her maids.

      Her uncle and aunt, the Countess Dagmar (whose merry brown eyes were so full of pretended dismay that the Princess could scarcely restrain a smile), and Gaspon, the minister of finance, were awaiting her appearance. She heard the count’s story of the escape, marveled at the prisoner’s audacity, and firmly announced that everything possible should be done to apprehend him. With a perplexed frown on her brow and a dubious twist to her lips, she said;

      “I suppose I must offer a reward.”

      “Certainly!” exclaimed her uncle.

      “About fifty gavvos, uncle?”

      “Fifty!” cried the two men, aghast.

      “Isn’t that enough?”

      “For the murderer of a prince?” demanded Gaspon. “It would be absurd, your Highness. He is a most important person.”

      “Quite so; he is a most important person. I think I’ll offer five thousand gavvos.”

      “More like it. He is worth that, at least,” agreed Uncle Caspar.

      “Beyond a doubt,” sanctioned Gaspon.

      “I am glad you do not consider me extravagant,” she said, demurely. “You may have the placards printed at once,” she went on, addressing the treasurer. “Say that a reward of five thousand gavvos will be paid to the person who delivers Grenfall Lorry to me.”

      “Would it not be better to say ‘delivers Grenfall Lorry to the tower’?” submitted Gaspon.

      “You may say ‘to the undersigned,’ and sign my name,” she said, reflectively.

      “Very well, your highness. They shall be struck off this morning.”

      “In large type, Gaspon. You must catch him if you can,” she added. “He is a very dangerous man and royalty needs protection.” With this wise bit of caution she dismissed the subject and began to talk of the storm.

      As the two young plotters were hastening up the stairs later on, an attendant approached and informed the Princess that Mr. Anguish requested an audience.

      “Conduct him to my boudoir,” she said, her eyes sparkling with triumph. In the seclusion of the boudoir she and the Countess laughed like children over the reward that had been so solemnly ordered.

      “Five thousand gavvos!” cried Dagmar, leaning back in her chair, to emphasize the delight she felt. “What a joke!”

      Tap, tap! came a knock on the door, and in the same instant it flew open, for Mr. Anguish was in a hurry. As he plunged into their presence a pair of heels found the floor spasmodically.

      “Oh, I beg pardon!” he gasped, as if about to fly. “May I come in?”

      “Not unless you go outside. You are already in, it seems,” said the Princess, advancing to meet him. The Countess was very still and sedate. “I am so glad you have come.”

      “Heard about Lorry? The fool is out and gone,” he cried, unable to restrain himself. Without a word she dragged him to the divan, and, between them, he soon had the whole story poured into his ears, the Princess on one side, the Countess on the other.

      “You are a wonder!” he exclaimed, when all the facts were known to him. He executed a little dance of approval, entirely out of place in the boudoir of a princess, but very much in touch with prevailing sentiment. “But what’s to become of me?” he asked, after cooling down. “I have no excuse for remaining in Graustark and I don’t like to leave him here, either.”

      “Oh, I have made plans for you,” said she. “You are to be held as hostage.”

      “What!”

      “I thought of your predicament last night, and here is the solution. This very day I shall issue an order forbidding you the right to leave Edelweiss. You will not be in prison, but your every movement is to be watched. A strong guard will have you under surveillance, and any attempt to escape or to communicate with your friend will result in your confinement and his detection. In this way you may stay here until the time comes to fly. The Axphain people must be satisfied, you know. Your freedom will not be disturbed; you may come and go as you like, but you are ostensibly a prisoner. By detaining you forcibly we gain a point, for you are needed here. There is no other way in which you can explain a continued presence in Graustark. Is not my plan a good one?”

      He gazed in admiration at her flushed cheeks and glowing eyes.

      “It is beyond comparison,” he said, rising and bowing low. “So shrewd is this plan that you make me a hostage forever; I shall not escape its memory if I live to be a thousand.”

      And so it was settled, in this pretty drama of deception, that Harry Anguish was to be held in Edelweiss as hostage. At parting she said, seriously:

      “A great deal depends on your discretion. Mr. Anguish. My guards will watch your every action, for they are not in the secret,—excepting Quinnox,—and any attempt on your part to communicate with Grenfall Lorry will be fatal.”

      “Trust me, your Highness. I have had much instruction in wisdom today.”

      “I hope we shall see you often,” she said.

      “Daily—as a hostage,” he replied, glancing toward the Countess.

      “That means until the other man is captured,” said that young lady, saucily.

      As he left the castle he gazed at the distant building in the sky and wondered how it had ever been approached in a carriage. She had not told him that Allode drove for miles over winding roads that led to the monastery up a gentler slope from the rear.

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