In the hand of Count Blowinski, which flashed aloft above his head, a knife gleamed in the light. A cry of horror went up from those in that part of the room who were so far back as to preclude a possibility of their being able to interfere in time to save the Emperor. Those closer to the Czar hurled themselves forward; but they had hesitated a moment when the count sprang forward and they too would have been too late. In all that room, among the score of officers and soldiers, there was only a single soul who had the presence of mind, the courage and the alertness to act in time. Jack sprang forward. In spite of the fact that Count Blowinski had seemed, apparently, resigned to his fate, there was something in the man's eye that had warned Jack and told him to be on his guard. Even as he leaped Jack knew he was taking a desperate chance. The thought flashed through his mind that even he would be too late to save the Czar. But there was not a moment of hesitation; not a second of indecision on his part. Straight between the Czar and Count Blowinski Jack sprang, at the same time raising a hand to catch the upraised arm, the hand of which grasped the knife in a firm grip. But in his haste the lad had not gauged the distance accurately. True he had interposed his body between that of the Czar and the would-be assassin, but he failed to grasp the upraised arm. The moment that he realized he had missed, Jack swerved a bit, and the knife, descending, slashed his right shoulder. Had he not swerved it had been his heart. Before Count Blowinski could move to strike again, Jack, whirling suddenly, seized the arm in his left hand and clung to it tightly, his now useless right arm hanging by his side. The Czar was safe. With a cry of baffled rage, Count Blowinski gave a desperate wrench and freed himself from the lad's grasp. With his eyes red with rage, he again raised the knife and cried out at Jack: "Now die!" The knife descended, but even as it would have found its mark, it fell clattering to the floor as a revolver shot rang out. Once, twice, Count Blowinski spun round on his heel, made a desperate effort to keep his feet; then plunged to the floor on his face. There was a breathless silence in the room as Jack moved forward, turned the count over on his back and laid a hand over his heart. Then he looked up and said quietly: "He's dead." The lad got to his feet and turned to Lord Hastings, who still held a smoking revolver in his hand--it was he who had fired the shot that had saved Jack's life. "You, sir----" he began, then staggered, and before Lord Hastings could raise a hand to catch him, pitched forward across the body of the count. Instantly the Czar became greatly excited. He waved his arms above his head and cried out: "Summon my physician immediately! Hurry! What is the matter with you? Can't you see this lad is in need of immediate assistance? My physician! Quickly!"