“Thanks; I will not detain you longer,” and the Prince waved his hand politely, and laid his head on the pillow again. “If I know anything of my young friend Carlino, he will choose the pistol,” he mused, as Louis and his men left the room, and the former locked the door on the outside. For a moment the prisoner lay listening, while the sentry began his measured tramp up and down the corridor, then he sat up suddenly. “Let me think,” he said to himself. “There may yet be a chance of doing something. For these plotters, there are two points of attack, Carlino and Drakovics. Both men must be in their hands to give them any hope of success. Now it is scarcely likely that their numbers are sufficient to allow them to seize both at once--that is, to obtain the mastery of the palace and the town at one blow. Which will they attempt to capture first? Drakovics is the most important--Carlino is a figurehead, comparatively speaking--but still, I think this is one of the cases in which the natural foolishness of mankind may safely be considered as a factor. The seizure of Carlino would appear a greater success at first--and it would give them the command of the palace, which they could defend against the town, while the town could not long hold out against a foe in possession of the palace. They have, then, concentrated their strength on the palace in order to make a prisoner of the King, and while they are doing their best to induce him to abdicate, it may yet be possible to warn Drakovics.” Prince Otto Georg was out of bed now, and dressing in the dark with the speed and silence of an old campaigner. Hurrying into his boots and a fur-lined coat, he went to the window, drew up the blind noiselessly, and looked out. “Snow!” he said. “So far, so good.”