"It is our duty to prevent you from being checkmated, sire," returned the Commander-in-Chief. "Personally, I hold fighting a coarse sport, and am well content to do the intellectual part at the end of the telephone." The ringing of the instrument punctuated his remark with singular appropriateness. "Well, who are you and what is it?" he demanded. "I'm Saunders," returned a voice; "I'm in the abatis in the churchyard." Meyer glanced round at the clock. It pointed to the hour of twelve. "Then you're there half an hour too soon," he returned. "Not a moment, I assure you," came the reply. "Trafford sent Major Flannel's curling-stones hurtling down the bob-run, and spoilt the formation of my advance guard. In the confusion they rushed us, and,--as I understood you did not want us to be wiped out,--we bolted manfully for the _abatis_. Here we are, and here we'll remain as long as you wish." "And what's happening in the Marienkastel?" asked the Commander-in-Chief. "Bernhardt's holding it in force." "And his guns?" "Are being slowly dragged up the snow slope." "How long will it take to get them in position?" "At least an hour. The sun has made the snow soft." "Thank you," said Meyer. "Stay where you are, please, till further orders," and replacing the receiver he rose to his feet. "Now, sire," he said, "the King can move more than one step at a time." "In what direction?" "The Marienkastel." They left the Brunvarad, Karl leading, by the great doorway at the base of the armoury tower. Here a couple of horses were awaiting them--big, yellow, maize-fed brutes, raw-boned and angular, but serviceable steeds on a rough path or a frozen highway. "I should feel a little happier if you would take me into your complete confidence," said Karl as they rode out of the palace courtyard. "So far, I have listened to one-sided conversations on the telephone, and brusque orders to breathless _aides-de-camp_, but I hardly know what portions of Weissheim are still mine and which are Gloria's." "The enemy have taken the Marienkastel, as we intended they should, but--they have taken it three-quarters of an hour too soon. The insufferable Trafford,--who saved your life and rent your kingdom,--has the subtlety of the serpent without the harmlessness of the dove. He enfiladed Saunders' trench in the bob-sleigh run with curling-stones, and in the confusion Bernhardt rushed the Schloss." "Cannot we re-capture it?" asked Karl. "I should not mind leading the forlorn hope." "As my place is by my royal master's side," responded Meyer drily, "I must veto the suggestion with all the authority I possess." "Then what are we to do?"