He was addressing himself to M. Drakovics; but his words were drowned by the excited crowd, who pressed about the prisoners with shouts and gestures of rage, and were only prevented from rushing upon them by the exertions of the guards. “Where is the King?” they cried. “Give us back our Carlino!” “Gentlemen,” said M. Drakovics, addressing the officers who formed the court, “I am grieved beyond measure to tell you that we have searched the palace and a great part of the city, but we can find no trace of our beloved sovereign.” General Sertchaieff smiled sardonically. “It is scarcely likely that you will,” he said. “Great heaven!” cried Prince Otto Georg; “they have murdered him, then!” “You will not find it easy to bring him back,” went on General Sertchaieff. “Ask Captain O’Malachy if you wish to hear what has become of your Carlino.” It was evident from his tone that he anticipated a surprise for his hearers; but it was also clear that when Louis spoke he received one himself. While the rapid dialogue was in progress, Louis had been weighing the situation in his mind. Would truth or falsehood serve the cause best at this juncture? The fate of his comrades and himself was already sealed, and nothing that he could say or refrain from saying would avail to save any of them. But what of that? It was still possible to produce an impression which might go far to effect the object aimed at by the revolt. Were Caerleon alive, the Drakovics party would rally around him in irresistible strength; if he were dead, the weary, dispiriting search for a King must begin again, with all the jealousies and strifes it involved, and the opportunity it offered to Scythia for armed intervention. He hesitated no longer. “You will certainly consult the best authority,” he said, sarcastically. “I had the honour of being present during his Majesty’s last moments.” A howl of rage went up from the crowd of Carlinists, and the rest of the prisoners repressed a start of astonishment. “You killed him?” was the cry. Louis bowed calmly. “That duty fell to me,” he said. “But how? where?” asked many voices. “I took him on board the Scythian steamer,” returned Louis, “with his brother and his English servant. They were all bound. I stabbed them one after the other, and threw their bodies into the river.” “But why on board the steamer?” asked Prince Otto Georg. “Because it was feared that some of our less ardent supporters might object to Carlino’s death if it was carried out before their eyes,” said Louis. “You give us to understand that you murdered three unarmed men in cold blood?” said Prince Otto Georg. “This is inconceivable. Human nature is not capable of so horrible an atrocity, though why you should attempt to deceive us in such a matter I cannot imagine. You are not in earnest?”