Before he could say more there was another flash--a sweeping circle of light--and Tuetzi's head flew from his neck, which sent up a column of blood. "The wretch!" shrieked the Count, "the cruel, cold-blooded wretch, he's killed my Tuetzi!" "It will be _our_ turn next!" cried the little Astrologer Royal, too terrified to stir. "Help!" the Count bawled, "we are attacked! Where _are_ you all?" A few retainers had run out to various doorways at his summons, but when they saw the dragon's great body rolling convulsively round the Courtyard, its hooked wings thrashing up the cobblestones, while its head bounded independently about, barking and snapping like a mad dog, they very prudently withdrew. Xuriel had recovered strength to run, but he had not gone far before the head, probably quite automatically, seized his right calf and brought him down. There was another sharp glint of light--and his body was headless, like the dragon's. What with the endeavour to avoid Tuetzi's head, and Tuetzi's body, and the terrible sword flashes, all at once, the Count was kept pretty busy for the next minute or so. He rushed, leaping and yelling, roaring and dodging, from side to side and corner to corner, and then made a frantic bolt for the outer staircase, but he had only got half-way up when his head fell with a splash into a water-butt below, while his body slid down to the bottom of the steps, where it lay in a limp crumpled heap. The noise of all these proceedings was not exactly conducive to literary composition, and Princess Edna had already been obliged to abandon her letter. In fact she had begun to realise that it would no longer be necessary to finish it. Her brother, she thought, had come to her deliverance with a promptness and energy which she would really have hardly expected of him. She put on her _pince-nez_ again, and went out to the head of the staircase. "Clarence!" she called, "where _are_ you?" She was immensely surprised to encounter a plain young man in homely costume whom she had certainly never seen before. Mirliflor, who had just removed his cap and was springing up the steps in search of Daphne, was at least equally surprised at finding Edna. "_You_ here, Princess!" he cried breathlessly, "Tell me! Is--is Daphne safe?" "If you refer to Miss Heritage," replied Edna, "I have not seen her for weeks, but I have no reason for believing that she is _not_ safe--in England." "Then," he said blankly, "the dragon carried off _you_--not _her_?" "I should have thought that fairly obvious," said Edna frigidly. "You have evidently rescued me under a misapprehension, though, of course, I am just as much indebted to you. And I shall be glad to know who you are. In answering, kindly address me as 'Your Royal Highness.' It is more correct."