“You will return to the palace, Lieutenant O’Malachy, and consider yourself under arrest,” said the captain, and Louis saluted, and backing his horse out of the crowd, rode away, followed by the cheers of the mob, which appeared to approve of his endeavour to execute lynch law. But Nadia did not even look after him. She had seen, over the heads of the pushing and struggling people, who had forced their way past the guards and into the road, Caerleon spring up in the carriage and call to the coachman to stop, had seen Cyril throw himself out before his brother could get his foot on the step. “Your Majesty wishes me to settle this matter for you?” he said imperatively, refusing to allow Caerleon to descend. “Good heavens, Cyril! don’t you see that it’s Nadia? I tell you I heard her voice. Let me pass!” But Cyril held his ground. “Go on and leave me to settle things, unless you want to involve her and yourself in the biggest scandal that ever spread through Europe. It’s for her sake, I tell you!” “May I entreat his Majesty to continue his drive?” said an agitated commissary of police, thrusting his way to the front through the raging, roaring mass of people that had closed around the troopers and their prisoner. “The crowd are beginning to believe that the assassin has accomplished her purpose, and the woman will be torn in pieces before we can get her to the prison, unless the King will drive on and show himself, and so distract their attention from her.” “Do you want her blood on your head?” cried Cyril, pushing his brother back into his place. “Go on, and let me see after her. I promise you I will take no steps without your leave. Drive on,” he called to the coachman. Angry and bewildered, Caerleon found himself carried on, past the seething crowd into which Cyril was now forcing his way, and between fresh rows of anxious spectators who had not been able to leave their places, so closely were they packed together, and who were necessarily a prey to the wildest rumours. They greeted the King with tumultuous cheers; and as the news spread, those who were on the outskirts of the crowd, and found it impossible to obtain a view of him, rushed to the churches and began to ring the bells, so that the drive continued in a perfect pandemonium of sound. Caerleon, bowing mechanically to right and left, and wondering what could have brought Nadia to Bellaviste, and where Cyril would take her, could scarcely hear himself speak when he remembered that it would be suitable to make some remark to his companion on what had happened. He looked across at General Sertchaieff, but started when his eyes fell upon his face, for it was pale and set, and as expressionless as a mask. “I am afraid this alarm has given you a shock, General?” he said, wondering whether it would be advisable to summon a doctor to prescribe for the Minister of War.