On the 2nd of June the last edition of one evening paper announced that Mr. Brand had been waylaid by supposed tramps, robbed, and seriously injured. The morning papers of June the 3rd confirmed this news, stating that Mr. Brand had been robbed and nearly murdered in the night of the 30th of May, and the facts withheld until now. Chicago reported immense purchases of wheat, buyers not identified. Odessa and Melbourne both sent advice of a sudden and sharp rise in bread-stuffs, and meat, caused by unknown buyers. There was a sudden chartering of deep sea cargo ships by hundreds at home and abroad. Feverish activity was reported from the Chancellor's office, and Ulster had scarcely left his desk for the last thirty hours. An _attaché_ at the Russian Embassy being interviewed, said everything was all right. These were the first faint zephyrs and little wandering breaths that ruffled the stillness of a world-wide calm. The morning of the Coronation was sultry, and even before the fiery heat of the day there was no little suffering among the crowds gathered to witness the procession. At sunrise the corps of gentlemen-at-arms, the Queen's Blackguards, were drawn up in front of the palace. Regiment after regiment of Imperial troops were passing into the Mall to take up their positions, the air was full of music from their bands, as far as the eye could see the parks and avenues were full of marching troops, the glow of scarlet, the fluttering of colours. Absorbed in the spectacle, Lord Sydney lounged at ease upon his charger, when a voice addressed him by name, and a letter was thrust into his hand. He thanked the bearer, then opened the note which had come from Lyonesse. "Read and destroy. I have been waylaid, and pretty nearly killed, but hope to be out of bed to-morrow. The enemy has the papers. At all hazards get them back. If you fail I must strike." This in Brand's writing. Scarcely had Sydney time to destroy the message before the parade was called to attention, and presently he found himself swinging with his regiment into position. Deep in his heart he cursed Brand's carelessness. Was Ulster such a fool as to let the Russian papers be stolen again? "If you fail I must strike!" Alone among the thousands in the royal pageant, alone among the millions who kept that festival, the trooper foresaw and feared. Well Sydney knew the antagonists at war, the Chancellor, his own father, and Brand, his life-long friend, the one commanding the forces of the British Empire, the other controlling powers awful beyond conception. Around him were his comrades in their shining harness, and ever he heard the roar of voices greeting Margaret, the Queen. Yet to him the pageant was a dream passing through white spaces of silence. And it was borne in upon him then that he would never see the light beyond the darkness, the peace after the storm. For him the way led on into the Shadow of Death, where a man must ride alone.