_HARRAP'S SHILLING LIBRARY_ _THE TRAIL OF THE WHITE KNIGHT_ _By_ _BRUCE GRAEME_ _Author of "Blackshirt," "La Belle Laurine," etc._ GEORGE G. HARRAP & CO. LTD. LONDON BOMBAY SYDNEY _First published October_ 1920 by GEORGE G. HARRAP & Co., LTD 39-41 Parker Street, Kingsway, London, W.C.2. _Reprinted:_ 1926; 1928; 1930; 1931; 1932. _Printed at Parkgate Printing Works, Dublin, by_ CAHILL & Co., LTD., _London and Dublin_ _HARRAP'S SHILLING LIBRARY_ 1. Pollyooly. Edgar Jepson. 2. The Chinese Parrot. Earl Derr Biggers. 3. Bluefeather. Laurence W. Meynell. 4. The Gillespie Suicide Mystery. Leonard R. Gribble. 5. Death's Eye. Laurence W. Meynell. 6. The Cathra Mystery. Adam Gordon Macleod. 7. The Marloe Mansions Murder. Adam Gordon Macleod. 8. Behind that Curtain. Earl Derr Biggers. 9. The Mayfair Mystery. Henry Holt. 10. The Death Gong. Selwyn Jepson. 11. Blackshirt. Bruce Graeme. 12. The Return of Blackshirt. Bruce Graeme. 13. The Trail of the White Knight. Bruce Graeme. 14. The House of Fear. R. W. Service. 15. Dead Men's Money. J. S. Fletcher. 16. The Chestermarke Instinct. J. S. Fletcher. 17. The Death of Laurence Vining. Alan Thomas. 18. Inspector Frost's Jigsaw. H. Maynard Smith. THE TRAIL OF THE WHITE KNIGHT _PROLOGUE_ I "Say again you love me," she pleaded. "Silly one! Have I not already told you more times than I can count?" he chided. She pouted slightly. "Yes, dear one; but a woman can never hear too often the words which mean so much to her." "A woman!" The man laughed softly. "You are not a woman, Zita. Why, you have yet to see your nineteenth birthday. You are still nothing but a child--yet--I love you, Zita." "Are you then a grandfather, big Mr Englishman?" she mocked. "No, but it is more than a month ago now since I celebrated my twenty-fifth birthday." The next few minutes were spent in silence as they walked along the shady paths of Margaret Island. Romance infused the soft, warm air of the July night with its subtle infection; the surroundings in which these two walked were reminiscent of Paradise. On their right the darkness of the night was emphasized by the many beautiful trees, the shadows of which, cast by the silvery light of the moon above, were delicately traced upon the soft sward beneath, and the simple majesty of the woods was disturbed only by the bright lights of an electric tramcar, as it flashed past, raucously, clangingly making its way from one end of the island to the other. On their left the scene was still more beautiful, for past them swiftly flowed the broad Danube, silently racing toward its outlet in the Black Sea, carrying on its bosom the broad-bottomed boats of commerce.