"I'll not make you any promises, but I'll see how you behave, for I've come here to stay. Go, now, before daylight catches you, and thank the Lord you're alive!" In the first gray dawn of the next morning Peter knocked dubiously on the smoke-house door. It was opened promptly, and when he saw The Prince alive and unharmed his joy knew no bounds. Glenning dismissed his exuberant manifestations somewhat abruptly, for he was in haste to be gone. Instructing the darky to say to the Dudleys that nothing of any consequence had happened, he went around the house and down the avenue towards the road. And how was he to know that behind a partly lifted curtain in an upper room two sleep-sweet eyes, moist with beauty newly born, watched his retreating figure with something approaching tenderness in their depths? CHAPTER VII When Devil Marston awoke that morning he was conscious of a vague feeling of satisfaction. As his brain grew more and more active he smiled broadly, showing his wolfish teeth, and threw himself from his bed. Good news would await him that morning. By covert watching he had seen where The Prince was to be stabled, and late the night before had gone in person to tell Dan Travers just how to go about the work. It was ridiculously easy--to make way with the colt--and ere this the thing had been done, for Travers had seemed eager for the undertaking. As he set about dressing Marston reviewed it all mentally; the success of his hireling's venture, the dismay and consternation of the Dudleys, the total lack of proof as to who committed the crime. But the consciousness that those whom he hated would know positively who was back of the crime was the sweetest thought of all. And Travers was coming this morning to make his report; this had been Marston's last order. He might arrive at any moment, and Marston wanted his breakfast before listening to good news, for it would sound better upon a full stomach. He opened a door and rudely bawled an order into vacancy, but a fear-filled negro's voice answered him in assuring words. His rule was one of absolute terror. His servants were no more to him than so many dogs, and they obeyed him as such. When he sat down to his meal a few minutes later an ill-favoured negro youth waited upon him, and a slatternly wench appeared at times from the kitchen, bringing new dishes to the door. Marston ate repulsively, as befitted his birth and character, and took an intense delight in his meal, which was coarse and poorly prepared. Throughout it all he listened repeatedly for his expected caller, and when he rose from the table there was not the slightest suspicion in his mind that anything had gone wrong. He would go to the stable and have a look at his favourite racers. The last barrier which stood in the way of their supremacy had been removed, and he would gloat over them with increased pleasure now. He issued some harsh orders for directing his caller when