"That which has happened to us is a greater disaster than the defeat of our armies could have been," he said slowly. "You, as well as everybody else, must realize this. If you do not you must be made to. That is why I have talked plainly. That is why you have indiscreetly permitted your anger to get the better of you. Now you must listen to me while I show you how we can achieve that which Berlin has failed to do, and which this man Stryj has failed to do. I mean lay our hands upon Prince von Hertzwohl. The woman up-stairs has been condemned to death." "To--death?" The square figure of Von Salzinger was erect, and his eyes were alight with a horror unusual to him. Then his feelings subsided under incredulity. "But that is a threat--merely." Von Berger shook his head. "It is a reality. She will die, if we do not get her father. It is part of my plan for trapping him. The news of her death will be whispered through certain channels which we know will convey it to him--wherever he be. Listen, this is the plan, and this is the work which will be assigned to you." Half an hour later the Prince rose from his chair and crossed to the window. He stood with his back towards his companion. He had talked long and earnestly in his cold, even voice. Now he waited. "Well?" he said at last without looking round at the still recumbent figure behind him. "That is the duty allotted to you. You accept the position?" For answer Von Salzinger sprang to his feet. His face was purple with shame. The diabolical nature of the plan had sunk deeply into the half-savage heart of the man and found some small grains of genuine manhood there. Even he was revolted, and the habit of discipline tottered and crumpled. "No! By God, no!" he cried, with a savage clenching of the fists. Von Berger remained gazing out at the autumn scene. "Think again." But no answer was forthcoming. Von Salzinger's attitude remained, only now it seemed as if his clenching fists were a threat to the man at the window. "Think again, Herr von Salzinger. Berlin gives no second chance." The frigidity of the words became a threat that was insupportable. Von Salzinger was a Prussian. Self-preservation counted with him before all things. He saw every hope that had ever been his slipping from his tenacious grasp. To refuse--to refuse. He knew all it meant. He must accept or--kill this man. His clenching fists relaxed. "Very good, Excellency. If those are my orders I must execute them." "Those are your orders." Von Berger had turned about, and Von Salzinger beheld that terrible gleam in his eyes which Vita had once so painfully witnessed. Von Salzinger spent a bad evening with himself, and a worse night.