Unnoticed by one of its passengers, the automobile increased its speed, rocking softly from side to side, leaping with cat-like lightness the inequalities of the road. One might have imagined that the driver also fled from his own thoughts through the empty parkways. Allard saw nothing; here in the heart of Europe, by the Emperor's side, the hateful gray walls had closed around him and he relived the unlivable. He was stifling, suffocating, with the sweet spring air singing past like a strong wind. A sharp whistle pierced above the whining purr of the motor, a shouted command. Allard started up, bewildered, and the black mood fell from him as a muffling garment cast aside. They had emerged again into the city, at the same gait. "The police, sire," he warned reproachfully. "We must stop." "I will not. Let them try to catch us." "They will know the car." "Then we will pay the fine, to-morrow. If they threaten worse I will pardon you." The irony of that might have brought Allard's laugh if he had not been distracted by the view ahead. "Not possible, sire; there is a regiment crossing at the head of the square. If we are examined--" Adrian sullenly shut off the power and came to a standstill. He had no desire to have his amusement ended and made an anecdote all over the Empire. "Tell them you are on my affairs," he directed, as the two pursuing officers galloped toward them. "Or anything you choose. I will not go through a police station farce to-night, do you understand?" Allard did laugh that time, the relief of waking to reality still tingling in his veins. "Then I must go alone, if they insist. May I ask to take the driver's seat and claim his responsibility?" "For what? They would take the machine. Do you expect me to walk alone to the palace?" "Good heavens, no!" Allard exclaimed vehemently. The two riders came panting up as Adrian replied with an expressive shrug. "You are under arrest, messieurs," was the crisp announcement. Allard leaned out into the light of the street lamp, taking off his mask and shaking his coat unbuttoned from top to bottom. Perhaps a memory of Rosal's admiration prompted the last move. "For over-speeding?" he inquired sweetly. "Certainly; monsieur was going at least forty miles an hour." "Ah, but my errand was important. I am Monsieur Allard, of the household of his Imperial Majesty." John Allard's name was linked with Stanief's on every tongue in the capital that night. Moreover, he stood up as he spoke and his coat fell apart, revealing the confirming luster of jewels and his elaborately careful dress. "We are desolated, Excellency," the man stammered. "Oh, you were quite right, but I assure you that it would be a mistake to carry this further. I am on an errand for--some one not to be questioned. Just fail to remember that you saw me, and there will be no trouble." He held out a hand in which a yellow coin gleamed alluringly. The officer coughed, and stooped.