He found himself alone in a small, dark chamber, the very walls trembling with the crash of triumphal music, and loud voices from the corridor behind were already demanding admission. Then curtains were drawn asunder, and Margaret herself stood in the opening, against the glare of the auditorium, a glory of light shining as a halo about her, kindling the diamonds of her tiara. Her face was in shadow, her eyes big and dark as they searched the gloom of the place, until they fastened upon him. "Mr. Brand? How dare you! You a Queen's messenger?" With a gesture of rage, Brand flung the Russian papers upon the table between them. "By right of blood!" he answered. "In the attempt to bring those papers to you, Colonel Anderson gave his life, Lord Sydney and Trooper Browne their liberty--and I am Queen's messenger in their place." Margaret, with trembling hands, turned on the lights, and, moved by an impulse of horror, shrank back from the blood-stained papers; then, startled by a noise in the corridors-- "What's that?" she cried. "Don't be frightened," he answered quietly. "It's only the police." "What do they want?" "Only me, don't trouble yourself. Here,"--he took the Russian papers, and wrenched off the blood-stained cover--"read," he said sternly. Wonderstruck at his daring, confused by the glitter of his eyes, humbled by the prescience of some great calamity, Margaret sank down into a chair, while Brand spread the papers before her. She was dazed at first, understanding nothing of what she read. Presently she became absorbed, scanning page after page in feverish eagerness. Then, in deadly rage thrusting the papers aside, she rose confronting Brand. "You accused our Chancellor, you slandered him, you insulted your sovereign with falsehoods about our administration, you were expelled from our palace in disgrace." She clutched her throat, hardly able to speak. "And you come back--with these--infamous slanders!" "I have come back, woman, with the proofs for which Colonel Anderson gave his life-blood and two gallant gentlemen their liberty." "But you have accused our Chancellor!" "Not I." Brand pointed downwards at the papers. "These in his own hand accuse the man who has sold your honour." "My honour? You mention my honour? Understand this, and tell all who care to hear, that it has pleased us to take for our Consort His Imperial Highness, the Grand Duke Alexander of Russia, whose sword will deal with questions concerning our honour. Now go!" Brand bent forward across the table and stared into the Queen's eyes. "I go," he said, "to Sydney and Browne in prison, and on to Colonel Anderson in Hades, bearing the Queen's message that by her orders, Ulster betrayed the Formula of the Fleets." "The Formula of the Fleets? What do you mean?"