Butzow was upon him instantly, wresting the revolver from his

fingers. Prince Ludwig ran to the king's side and, kneeling there,

raised Leopold's head in his arms. The bishop and the doctor bent

over the limp form. The Princess Emma stood a little apart. She had

leaped from the couch where she had been lying. Her eyes were wide

in horror. Her palms pressed to her cheeks.

It was upon this scene that a hatless, dust-covered man in a red

hunting coat burst through the door that had admitted Maenck. The

man had seen and recognized the conspirator as he climbed to the top

of the limousine and dropped within the cathedral grounds, and he

had followed close upon his heels.

No one seemed to note his entrance. All ears were turned toward the

doctor, who was speaking.

"The king is dead," he said.

Maenck raised himself upon an elbow. He spoke feebly.

"You fools," he cried. "That man was not the king. I saw him steal

the king's clothes at Blentz and I followed him here. He is the

American--the impostor." Then his eyes, circling the faces about him

to note the results of his announcements, fell upon the face of the

man in the red hunting coat. Amazement and wonder were in his face.

Slowly he raised his finger and pointed.

"There is the king," he said.

Every eye turned in the direction he indicated. Exclamations of

surprise and incredulity burst from every lip. The old chancellor

looked from the man in the red hunting coat to the still form of the

man upon the floor in the blood-spattered marriage garments of a

king of Lutha. He let the king's head gently down upon the carpet,

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