Meyer shrugged his shoulders. "Your Majesty's subjects are very musical folk," he said drily, "and the 'Rothlied' is a very remarkable melody. I heard it the other day, and it had almost the effect of making me feel heroic. That speaks volumes for its potency." In the silence which followed these words was heard the distant tinkling of the telephone bell. The King made as though to move towards the door, but changed his mind and remained where he was, signalling to Bomcke to take the call. There were three endless minutes during which no one spoke; on the faces of all might be read in contracted brow and half-open mouth, the sharp dominating expectancy that possessed them, the sickening fear of ill-tidings, and the struggling hope of good. Then the major-domo reappeared, and the struggling hope was extinguished. Bomcke's face, always waxen, was deathly pale, and his suave, smug pomposity had given way to a palsy of agitation. "Well?" demanded the King; but no answering speech issued from Bomcke's twitching lips. "Speak, man!" interjected General von Bilderbaum wrathfully, but the major-domo merely bowed unctuously and fumbled stupidly with his white hands. "What is it, Bomcke?" asked the King, more kindly. "The--Strafeburg----" said the steward, forming his words with infinite difficulty. "Go on," said Meyer, almost as bloodless as the invertebrate major-domo. "The Strafeburg," repeated Bomcke stupidly. "Yes, yes, yes!" screamed Frau von Bilderbaum, losing all patience. "And what about the Strafeburg?" The question was never answered; perhaps it never needed an answer, for the stern faces of the King and his Generals showed that they knew the worst. But there was another reason for postponing their interrogations. A distant sound of many voices was audible to the inmates of the Rubens room. It was a sound similar to that which had interrupted the dinner-party at the Neptunburg that evening, a snarling roar of malice and insensate fury. Louder it swelled with amazing rapidity,--and there was a note of reckless triumph in its depths that had something very terrible and disconcerting in it. "Have I your Majesty's permission?" demanded General von Bilderbaum, drawing his sword and holding it in stiff salute. "Where is the guard?" asked Karl. "In the courtyard, sire," replied Meyer, "Captain Traun-Nelidoff is in command." "Have I your Majesty's permission to take over that command?" persisted Von Bilderbaum. For a moment the King stood motionless in deep thought. "I will usurp that position myself," he said at length, going to the door leading on to the courtyard and flinging it open. The roar of the shrieking rabble burst in through the doorway in waves of terrifying sound.