gave your royal word. You can save him. You have an army at your

command. Do not forget that he once saved you."

The note of appeal in her voice and the sorrow in her eyes gave

Barney Custer a twinge of compunction. The necessity for longer

concealing his identity in so far as the salvation of Lutha was

concerned seemed past; but the American had intended to carry the

deception to the end.

He had given the matter much thought, but he could find no grounds

for belief that Emma von der Tann would be any happier in the

knowledge that her future husband had had nothing to do with the

victory of his army. If she was doomed to a life at his side, why

not permit her the grain of comfort that she might derive from the

memory of her husband's achievements upon the battlefield of

Lustadt? Why rob her of that little?

But now, face to face with her, and with the evidence of her

suffering so plain before him, Barney's intentions wavered. Like

most fighting men, he was tender in his dealings with women. And now

the last straw came in the form of a single tiny tear that trickled

down the girl's cheek. He seized the hand that lay upon his arm.

"Your highness," he said, "do not grieve for the American. He is not

worth it. He has deceived you. He is not at Blentz."

The girl drew her hand from his and straightened to her full height.

"What do you mean, sire?" she exclaimed. "Mr. Custer would not

deceive me even if he had an opportunity--which he has not had. But

if he is not at Blentz, where is he?"

Barney bowed his head and looked at the floor.

"He is here, your highness, asking your forgiveness," he said.

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