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Contents

Asterisks indicate sections tangential to the main line of argument.

Preface for Students xxvii

Preface for Instructors xxix
Supplements xxxv
Acknowledgments xxxvii

1. Random Reasoning 1
1.1 Introduction 1
1.2 Probability 2
1.3 Statistics 7
1.4 Conclusion 10

2. Probability Models 11
2.1 Ex Ante vs. Ex Post 12
2.2 Sample Spaces 14
2.2.1 Sample spaces, outcomes, and events 14
2.2.2 New events from old 16
2.3 Probability Measures 18
2.3.1 The axioms of probability 18
2.3.2 Further properties of probability measures 20
2.3.3 Interpreting and assigning probabilities 23
2.4 Conditional Probability 24
2.4.1 What is conditional probability? 25
2.4.2 Joint, marginal, and conditional probabilities 29
2.4.3 The total probability rule 30
2.4.4 Bayes’ rule 31

vii
viii Contents

2.5 Independence 36
2.5.1 Independence of pairs of events 36
2.5.2 Independence of many events 38
2.5.3 Independence of many events: A formal treatment* 41
2.6 Constructing Probability Models* 44
2.6.1 Two probability problems 44
2.6.2 Discussion of the Linda problem 45
2.6.3 Discussion of the Monty Hall problem 46
2.A Appendix: Finite and Countable Additivity 50
2.E Exercises 51

3. Random Variables 65
3.1 Random Variables 65
3.1.1 What exactly is a random variable? 66
3.1.2 Ex ante vs. ex post revisited 68
3.1.3 The distribution of a random variable 68
3.2 Traits of Random Variables 70
3.2.1 Expected value 70
3.2.2 Variance and standard deviation 73
3.2.3 An alternate formula for expected values* 77
3.3 Functions of Random Variables 79
3.4 Independent Random Variables 86
3.4.1 Independence of two random variables 86
3.4.2 Independence of many random variables 88
3.4.3 Sums of independent random variables 89
3.4.4 New independent random variables from old 93
3.E Exercises 95

4. Multiple Random Variables 106

4.1 Multiple Random Variables 106
4.1.1 Joint distributions and marginal distributions 108
4.1.2 Conditional distributions 110
4.1.3 Conditional traits and the law of iterated expectations 112
 Contents ix

4.2 Traits of Random Variable Pairs 114

4.2.1 Covariance 114
4.2.2 Correlation 116
4.2.3 Some useful facts 120
4.2.4 Independence and zero correlation 121
4.3 Functions of Multiple Random Variables 123
4.4 Portfolio Selection* 127
4.4.1 A simple model of a financial market 127
4.4.2 Portfolio selection and diversification 128
4.4.3 Efficient portfolios 131
4.4.4 The benefits of diversification 133
4.A Appendix 138
4.A.1 Definitions, formulas, and facts about random variables 138
4.A.2 Derivations of formulas and facts 141
4.B The Capital Asset Pricing Model online
4.E Exercises 145

Bernoulli Trials Processes and Discrete

5. Distributions 158
5.1 Families of Distributions 159
5.1.1 Indicator random variables 159
5.1.2 Bernoulli distributions 160
5.1.3 Traits of Bernoulli random variables 161
5.2 Bernoulli Trials Processes 163
5.3 How to Count 165
5.3.1 Choice sequences 165
5.3.2 Orderings 166
5.3.3 Permutations 167
5.3.4 Combinations 169
5.4 Binomial Distributions 170
5.4.1 Definition 171
5.4.2 Another way to represent binomial distributions 174
5.4.3 Traits of binomial random variables 175
x Contents

5.5 Simulation and Mathematical Analysis of Probability Models* 177

5.5.1 The birthday problem 177
5.5.2 Simulations 177
5.5.3 Mathematical analysis 178
5.5.4 Simulation versus mathematical analysis 180
5.E Exercises 181

6. Continuous Random Variables and Distributions 191

6.1 Continuous Probability Models 192
6.1.1 Why bother with continuous probability models? 192
6.1.2 “Probability zero” and “impossible” 192
6.2 Continuous Random Variables and Distributions 194
6.2.1 Cumulative probabilities 194
6.2.2 Density functions 197
6.2.3 Density functions: Intuition 204
6.2.4 Percentiles of continuous distributions 205
6.2.5 Traits of continuous random variables 206
6.3 Uniform Distributions 206
6.3.1 Definition 207
6.3.2 Traits 209
6.3.3 Shifting and scaling 209
6.4 Normal Distributions 212
6.4.1 Shifting, scaling, and the standard normal distribution 212
6.4.2 Standard normal probabilities 214
6.4.3 Normal probabilities 217
6.5 Calculating Normal Probabilities Using the Table 220
6.5.1 The standard normal distribution table 221
6.5.2 Calculating standard normal probabilities 223
6.5.3 Calculating normal probabilities 225
6.6 Sums of Independent Normal Random Variables 228
6.6.1 Distributions of sums of independent random variables 228
6.6.2 Brownian motion* 231
 Contents xi

6.A Continuous Distributions (using calculus) online

6.B Continuous Joint Distributions (using calculus) online
6.E Exercises 235

7. The Central Limit Theorem 248

7.1 I.I.D. Random Variables 249
7.2 Sums and Sample Means of I.I.D. Random Variables 252
7.2.1 Definition 252
7.2.2 Traits of sums and sample means of i.i.d. random variables 254
7.3 The Law of Large Numbers 258
7.3.1 Statement of the law of large numbers 258
7.3.2 The law of large numbers and the “law of averages” 260
7.3.3 Proving the law of large numbers* 261
7.4 The Central Limit Theorem 262
7.4.1 Convergence in distribution 263
7.4.2 Statement of the central limit theorem 264
7.4.3 Simulations with continuous trials 266
7.4.4 The continuity correction 269
7.4.5 Simulations with discrete trials 275
7.5 The Central Limit Theorem: Applications 276
7.5.1 Normal approximation of binomial distributions 276
7.5.2 Gambling 279
7.5.3 Queues 279
7.5.4 Statistical inference 282
7.A Proof of the Central Limit Theorem online
7.E Exercises 284

8. Poisson and Exponential Distributions 295

8.1 Poisson Distributions and the Poisson Limit Theorem 296
8.1.1 e 297
8.1.2 Poisson distributions 300
8.1.3 The Poisson limit theorem 303
xii Contents

8.2 Exponential Distributions 309

8.2.1 Definition 309
8.2.2 Probabilities and traits 311
8.2.3 Peculiar properties 313
8.3 The Exponential Interarrival Model and the Poisson Process* 318
8.A Appendix 321
8.E Exercises 322

9. The Psychology of Probability 332

9.1 Thought Experiments 334
9.2 Framing Effects 335
9.3 Overconfidence 339
9.4 Misestimating the Impact of Evidence 342
9.5 The “Law of Small Numbers” 345
9.6 Gambling Systems and Technical Trading Strategies 351
9.E Exercises 356

10. How to Lie with Statistics 365

10.1 Introduction 366
10.2 Variation 367
10.2.1 Variation within a population 367
10.2.2 Variation within subgroups: Simpson’s paradox 369
10.2.3 Variation in the results of random samples 372
10.3 Polls and Sampling 373
10.3.1 Sampling from the wrong population 373
10.3.2 Designing polls: Wording of questions 374
10.3.3 Designing polls: Selection of response alternatives 376
10.3.4 Designing polls: Arrangement of questions 377
10.3.5 Administering polls: Ensuring honest reporting 378
10.3.6 When can I trust a poll? 379
10.4 Endogenous Sampling Biases 380
 Contents xiii

10.5 Causal Inference and Extrapolation 382

10.5.1 Confounding variables 383
10.5.2 Spurious correlation and data mining 384
10.5.3 Linear extrapolation of nonlinear data 385
10.E Exercises 387

11. Data Graphics 393

11.1 Data 394
11.1.1 Types of variables 395
11.1.2 Types of data sets 397
11.1.3 Sources of economic and business data 398
11.2 Graphics for Univariate Data 399
11.2.1 Graphics that display every observation 399
11.2.2 Graphics for absolute and relative frequencies 402
11.2.3 Graphics for cumulative frequencies 408
11.3 Graphics for Multivariate Data 410
11.3.1 Graphics for frequencies 410
11.3.2 Graphics that display every observation 411
11.4 Principles for Data Graphics Design 418
11.4.1 First, do no harm 418
11.4.2 Infographics 419
11.4.3 One step beyond 421
11.A Appendix: Creating Data Graphics in Excel online
11.E Exercises 427

12. Descriptive Statistics 435

12.1 Descriptive Statistics for Univariate Data 436
12.1.1 Measures of relative standing: Percentiles and ranges 436
12.1.2 Measures of centrality: Mean and median 440
12.1.3 Measures of dispersion: Variance and standard deviation 441
xiv Contents

12.2 Descriptive Statistics for Bivariate Data 446

12.2.1 Measures of linear association: Covariance
and correlation 446
12.2.2 Visualizing correlations 448
12.2.3 Computing correlations: Arithmetic, pictures,
or computer 451
12.2.4 The road ahead: Regression analysis 456
12.E Exercises 457

13. Probability Models for Statistical Inference 464

13.1 Introduction 465
13.2 The I.I.D. Trials Model for Statistical Inference 467
13.3 Inference about Inherently Random Processes 468
13.3.1 Bernoulli trials 469
13.3.2 Trials with an unknown distribution 470
13.4 Random Sampling and Inference about Populations 470
13.4.1 Random sampling 470
13.4.2 The trials’ traits equal the data set’s descriptive statistics 472
13.4.3 Bernoulli trials 474
13.4.4 Trials with an unknown distribution 475
13.5 Random Sampling in Practice 476
13.E Exercises 482

14. Point Estimation 487

14.1 Parameters, Estimators, and Estimates 488
14.2 Desirable Properties of Point Estimators 490
14.3 The Sample Mean 492
14.3.1 Unbiasedness and consistency 493
14.3.2 Efficiency 495
14.3.3 The distribution of the sample mean 498
14.4 The Sample Variance 499
14.4.1 Defining the sample variance 500
14.4.2 Unbiasedness and consistency of the sample variance 502
14.5 Classical Statistics and Bayesian Statistics* 505
 Contents xv

14.A Appendix: A Short Introduction to Bayesian Statistics 507

14.B Appendix: Derivations of Properties of the Sample Variance 515
14.E Exercises 517

15. Interval Estimation and Confidence Intervals 527

15.1 What Is Interval Estimation? 528
15.2 Constructing Interval Estimators 529
15.2.1 The 95% interval estimator for 𝜇 when 𝜎2 is known 530
15.2.2 The 95% interval estimator for 𝜇 when 𝜎2 is unknown 534
15.2.3 The (1 − 𝛼) interval estimator for 𝜇 when 𝜎2 is unknown 535
15.2.4 Looking ahead: Standard errors and t distributions 538
15.3 Interval Estimators for Bernoulli Trials 539
15.4 Interpreting Confidence 541
15.5 Choosing Sample Sizes 548
15.5.1 Sample sizes for general i.i.d. trials 548
15.5.2 Sample sizes for Bernoulli trials processes 550
15.6 A Better Interval Estimator for Bernoulli Trials* 552
15.E Exercises 557

16. Hypothesis Testing 567

16.1 What Is Hypothesis Testing? 568
16.2 Hypothesis Testing: Basic Concepts 569
16.2.1 The probability model 570
16.2.2 Null and alternative hypotheses 571
16.2.3 One-tailed and two-tailed tests 573
16.2.4 Hypothesis tests and their significance levels 574
16.3 Designing Hypothesis Tests 575
16.3.1 Hypothesis tests for 𝜇 when 𝜎2 is known 575
16.3.2 Hypothesis tests for 𝜇 when 𝜎2 is unknown 581
16.3.3 Hypothesis tests for Bernoulli trials 582
16.4 Two-Tailed Hypothesis Tests 585
16.4.1 Two-tailed tests vs. one-tailed tests 587
16.4.2 Comparing two-tailed hypothesis tests and confidence
intervals 588
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xvi Contents

16.5 Alternate Ways of Expressing Hypothesis Tests 591

16.5.1 z-statistics 591
16.5.2 P-values 593
16.6 Interpreting Hypothesis Tests 597
16.6.1 The meaning of significance 597
16.6.2 “Do not reject” vs. “accept” 598
16.6.3 Statistical significance versus practical significance 599
16.6.4 P-value .049 vs. P-value .051 602
16.6.5 Hypothesis testing in a vacuum 602
16.7 Significance and Power 604
16.7.1 Type I and Type II errors 605
16.7.2 Evaluating error probabilities 606
16.7.3 The power curve 612
16.7.4 Underpowered studies 616
16.8 Choosing Sample Sizes 619
16.8.1 Sample sizes for general i.i.d. trials 619
16.8.2 Sample sizes for Bernoulli trials processes 621
16.9 Summary and Preview 623
16.E Exercises 625

17. Inference from Small Samples 641

17.1 The t-Statistic 642
17.2 t Distributions 644
17.3 Small-Sample Inference about the Mean
of Normal Trials 648
17.3.1 The t-statistic and the t distribution 648
17.3.2 Interval estimation 648
17.3.3 Hypothesis testing 650
17.4 Sort-of-Normal Trials: The Robustness of the t-Statistic 652
17.5 Evaluating Normality of Trials* 657
17.A Appendix: Descendants of the Standard Normal
Distribution online
17.E Exercises 663
 Contents xvii

18. Inference about Differences in Means 671

18.1 Inference from Two Separate Samples 672
18.1.1 The basic two-sample model 672
18.1.2 Bernoulli trials 676
18.1.3 Small samples, normal trials, equal variances* 679
18.2 Inference from Paired Samples 683
18.2.1 Constructing paired samples 683
18.2.2 The basic paired-sample model 684
18.2.3 Small samples, normal trials* 686
18.3 Choosing between Separate and Paired Samples 687
18.3.1 A general rule 687
18.3.2 Paired sampling using two observations
per individual 689
18.3.3 Pairing samples using observable characteristics* 691
18.4 Causal Inference: Treatment Effects* 697
18.4.1 Randomized controlled experiments
and observational studies 697
18.4.2 Interventions and causal assumptions 699
18.4.3 Potential outcomes and average treatment effects 700
18.4.4 A probability model of an observational study 701
18.4.5 Selection bias in observational studies 702
18.4.6 Random assignment eliminates selection bias 704
18.4.7 Controlling for observable confounding variables 705
18.A Appendix: Decomposition of Variance in the Separate
Sample Model 706
18.B Appendix: The Distribution of the Pooled Sample Variance online
18.E Exercises 708

19. Simple Regression: Descriptive Statistics 722

19.1 The Regression Line 724
19.1.1 A brief review of descriptive statistics 725
19.1.2 The regression line 726
19.1.3 Examples, computations, and simulations 726
xviii Contents

19.2 Prediction and Residuals 731

19.2.1 Predictors, predictions, and residuals 731
19.2.2 Best-in-class predictors 734
19.2.3 Further characterizations of the regression line 737
19.2.4 Deriving the best constant and best linear predictors* 739
19.3 The Conditional Mean Function 740
19.3.1 Best unrestricted prediction 740
19.3.2 Best linear prediction of conditional means 746
19.4 Analysis of Residuals 747
19.4.1 Sums of squares and variances of residuals
for best-in-class predictors 747
19.4.2 Relative quality for best-in-class predictors 749
19.4.3 Decomposition of variance for regression 753
19.4.4 Sums of squares revisited 754
19.5 Pitfalls in Interpreting Regressions 755
19.5.1 Nonlinear relationships 755
19.5.2 Regression to the mean 756
19.5.3 Correlation and causation 761
19.6 Three Lines of Best Fit* 765
19.6.1 The reverse regression line 765
19.6.2 The neutral line 767
19.6.3 The three lines compared 771
19.A Appendix 774
19.A.1 Equivalence of the characterizations
of the regression line 774
19.A.2 Best linear prediction of conditional means 775
19.A.3 Relative quality for best-in-class predictors:
Derivation 776
19.A.4 Decomposition of variance for regression:
Derivation 777
19.B Appendix: Characterization of the Neutral Line online
19.E Exercises 778

Index 795
 Contents xix

20. Simple Regression: Statistical Inference† 1

20.1 The Classical and Random Sampling Regression Models 2
20.1.1 Fixed x sampling vs. random sampling 3
20.1.2 Linearity of conditional means 4
20.1.3 Constant conditional variances 5
20.1.4 How reasonable are the assumptions? 6
20.2 The OLS Estimators 9
20.2.1 Defining the OLS estimators 10
20.2.2 Basic properties of the OLS estimators 13
20.2.3 Estimating conditional means 14
20.2.4 Approximate normality of the OLS estimators 15
20.2.5 Efficiency of the OLS estimators: The Gauss-Markov
theorem* 16
20.3 The Sample Conditional Variance 17
20.4 Interval Estimators and Hypothesis Tests 19
20.4.1 Review: Inference about an unknown mean 19
20.4.2 Interval estimators and hypothesis tests for 𝛽 21
20.4.3 Interval estimators and hypothesis tests for conditional
means 24
20.4.4 Population regressions vs. sample regressions 26
20.5 Small Samples and the Classical Normal
Regression Model 28
20.5.1 The classical normal regression model 29
20.5.2 Interval estimators and hypothesis tests for 𝛽 31
20.5.3 Interval estimators and hypothesis tests for conditional
means 35
20.5.4 Prediction intervals* 36
20.6 Analysis of Residuals, R2 , and F Tests 39
20.6.1 Sums of squares and R2 39
20.6.2 The F test for 𝛽 = 0 41
20.6.3 What happens without normality? The robustness
of the F-statistic* 43

† Chapter 20 and the online Appendices are located on the text’s companion ARC site.
xx Contents

20.7 Regression and Causation 45

20.7.1 An alternate description of the classical regression model 45
20.7.2 Causal regression models 46
20.7.3 Multiple regression 47
20.A Appendix 48
20.A.1 Analysis of the random sampling regression model 48
20.A.2 The unstructured regression model 50
20.A.3 Computation of the mean and variance of B 51
20.A.4 Proof of the Gauss-Markov theorem 52
20.A.5 Proof that the sample conditional variance is unbiased 54
20.A.6 Deriving the distribution of the F-statistic 56
20.E Exercises 60

Chapter Appendices available online

4.B Appendix: The Capital Asset Pricing Model
4.B.1 Portfolio selection with many risky assets
4.B.2 Riskless lending and borrowing
4.B.3 The market portfolio
4.B.4 Risk and expected returns
Exercises
6.A Appendix: Continuous Distributions
6.A.1 Cumulative distribution functions
6.A.2 Density functions
6.A.3 Expected values
6.A.4 Transformations of density functions
6.B Appendix: Continuous Joint Distributions
6.B.1 Joint distribution functions
6.B.2 Joint density functions
6.B.3 Marginal density functions
6.B.4 Expected values
6.B.5 Conditional density, mean, and variance functions
6.B.6 Transformations of joint density functions
Exploring the Variety of Random
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 "You have killed two of my men, Englishman," went on the ex-priest.

"I think not," returned Saunders calmly. "The second man was only
wounded in the thigh."

"I should be justified in taking your life for this," continued Father
Bernhardt.

"Perfectly," agreed Saunders with composure, "but you will find the
proceeding difficult and rather dangerous."

A low laugh followed Saunders' words.

"That's the spirit I admire!" cried the outlaw. "There's a dash of the devil
about that—and the devil, you know, is a particular friend of mine."

"So I have been led to understand," said Saunders drily.

Again the outlaw laughed.

"Come," he said, "will you make a truce with us? We could probably
kill you and your friend there, but we should lose a man or two in the
killing. Make truce, and we give you a free return to Weidenbruck, or
wherever you choose to go. Your friend Karl has got away safely now,—
thanks to your infernal coolness,—so you can make peace with honour."

Saunders shrugged his shoulders.

"If my friend, Captain von Hügelweiler, agrees," he said, "I consent.

Only there must be no further pursuit of us or the royal party."

"I give my word," said Bernhardt.

"Can we trust it?" whispered Von Hügelweiler. But the ex-priest

overheard, and for answer clambered down the cliff beside them.

Von Hügelweiler was no coward, but something made him give ground
before the strange individual who confronted him. A man of medium height
and compact build, there was a suggestion of great muscularity about the
outlaw's person. But it was the face rather than the body which compelled
attention. The clean-carved, aquiline features, the black, bushy eyebrows,
the piercing eyes, and the strange, restless light that played in them, made
up a personality that set the turbulent rebel as a man apart from his fellows.

"Now, then," he said, thrusting his face into Von Hügelweiler's, "shoot
me, and earn the eternal gratitude of your sovereign."

Again the Captain gave ground, though his timidity shamed and irritated
him.

"I am not a murderer," he said, flushing. "You come to parley, I

imagine."

"I come to shake Saunders by the hand," said the outlaw, turning and
stretching out a sudden hand to the Englishman. "He is a man, a stubborn
fellow, with a brain of ice and nerves of tested steel. I would sooner have
him on my side than a pack of artillery and the whole brigade of Guards."

"You flatter me," said Saunders, taking the proffered hand. "I am a man
of peace."

"How lovely are the feet of them that bring us good tidings of peace,"
said the outlaw with a scornful laugh. "Behold Satan also can quote the
Scriptures! When I sold my soul three years ago to the Father of Lies I
drove a fine bargain. I took a Queen to wife—such a Queen, such a wife!
And my good friends Ahriman, the Prince of Darkness, and Archmedai, the
Demon of Lust, have given me strength and health and cunning beyond my
fellows, so that no man can bind me or prevail against me. They never leave
me long, these good fiends. It was one of them who warned me not to lead
the pursuit of Karl over this bit of cliff."

Von Hügelweller shuddered, but Saunders looked the outlaw steadily in

the face.

"Your nerves are out of gear, Bernhardt," he said. "Did you ever try
bromide?"
 "I've tried asceticism and I've tried debauchery," was the leering answer,
"and they both vouchsafe visions of the evil one. When I was a priest I lived
as a priest: I scourged myself and fasted; but the Prince of Power of the Air
was never far from me. And now that I am of the world, worldly, a sinner of
strange sins, a blasphemer, and a wine-bibber, Diabolus and his satellites
are in even more constant attendance on me. Perhaps I am mad, or perhaps
they are there for such as me to see."

"I'd chance the former alternative and see a brain specialist," suggested
Saunders. "It might save a deal of wasted blood and treasure to Grimland."

"There is no healing for a damned soul," said Bernhardt fiercely. "I saw
strange things before I drank the libidinous cup of Tobit. I see them now.
Saint or sinner, my eyes have been opened to the unclean hosts of
Beelzebub."

Saunders offered the unhappy man a cigarette.

"Saints and sinners generally do see things," he said dispassionately. "I

am neither, and my vision is normal. If you would live a reasonable life for
six months you might become a useful member of society instead of a
devil-ridden firebrand. Fasting is bad and excess is bad. One starves the
brain, the other gluts it. Both lead to hallucinations. Take hold of life with
both hands and be a man with normal appetites and reasonable relaxations,
and you will have men and women for friends, not the unclean spawn of
over-stimulated brain-cells."

A puzzled look crept into Father Bernhardt's eyes. Then he shook his
head firmly.

"I won't talk to you any more," he cried angrily. "I hate talking to you. I
hate your cursed English common sense. If I saw much of you I'd lose all
the savour of life. I'd be a decent, law-abiding citizen, and miss all the
thrills and torments of a man fire-doomed."

"A good conscience is not a bad thing," said Saunders, "and a man at
peace with himself is king of a fine country. You're a youngish man,
Bernhardt, and the world's before you. Give up listening to devils, and the
devils will give up talking to you. Go on listening to them and the fine
balances of sanity will be overthrown for ever."

"Silence!" cried the ex-priest, thrusting his fingers in his ears. "Would
you rob me even of my remaining joys? For such as me there is no peace. I
have my mission, and by the devil's aid I must perform it!"

"We all have missions," retorted Saunders. "Mine apparently is to

preserve Karl from assassination. I don't boast a body-guard of demons, but
I'll back my luck against yours, Father Bernhardt."

The outlaw smiled again at these words.

"Good-bye, Englishman," he said, "I love you for your courage. Go in

peace," he went on, shaking him by the hand, but ignoring Von Hügelweiler
altogether. "But take heed to yourself, for you are pitting yourself against a
man who is neither wholly sane nor wholly mad, and therefore entirely to
be feared. Good-bye, and tell the Jew Meyer that to-night I am dwelling in
the Goose-market, at the house of Fritz Birnbaum, the cobbler. Let him send
to take me and see whether he is stronger than my dear allies, Archmedai
and Ahriman."

"I will make a point of doing so," said Saunders, preparing to depart,
"and I will lay a shade of odds on the Jew."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE IRON MAIDEN

While the Englishman was ski-running and saving the King's life, the
American had spent an uneventful morning seeing the sights of the capital.
Acting on his friend's advice he had visited the Reichs Museum, wherein
were housed some extremely old Masters, some indifferent modern
sculpture, and a wholly admirable collection of engravings by Albrecht
Dürer. But Trafford's mind had wandered from pre-Raphaelite anatomy and
marble modernities to a pair of dark eyes, a finely chiselled little nose, and
a diminutive mouth, that were utterly unlike anything depicted by Botticelli,
Fra Angelo, or the great Bavarian engraver.

Art had never held an important place in his mind, and on this fine
January morning it competed feebly with a certain restless longing that had
stolen over his ill-balanced nervous system, to the domination of his
thoughts and the destruction of his critical faculties. He desired to be out in
the open air, and he desired to see, and touch, and speak with a certain
young woman who had passed herself off as his sister at his hotel, but who
had disappeared into thin air long before he had tasted his petit déjeuner of
coffee and rolls. It was not, he told himself, that he was in love. Love,—as
he conceived it,—was something akin to worship, a regard pure as the
snows, passionless almost in its humility and reverence. For one woman he
had felt that marvellous adoration; he would never feel it again for any
woman in the world. But beauty appeals even to those who have suffered at
beauty's hands, and the Princess Gloria was a maiden of such bewildering
moods, so compounded of laughter and fierceness, of such human pathos
and relentless purpose, that she was bound to have a disturbing effect on so
responsive and sensitive a soul as his. He acknowledged the obsession, for
it was patent and paramount. But he told himself that in his regard there
were no deeps, certainly no worship; merely a desire to cultivate an
attractive young woman whose habitual behaviour was as heedless of the
conventions as his own.

But this desire took him out of the long galleries of the Reichs Museum
into the slums of Weidenbruck, into the purlieus of the Goose-market and
the Grassmarket, and into the network of narrow alleys round about the
Schugasse. But the face and figure that were in his mind's eye refused to
grace his bodily sight, and so,—having lost himself half a dozen times and
gained a magnificent appetite,—he took a sleigh and drove back to the
Hôtel Concordia.

In the middle of his meal Saunders arrived, and told him at full length of
his morning's adventures. And, as Saunders had expected, Trafford's
disappointment at having missed the exhilarating rencontre with Father
Bernhardt was palpable and forcibly expressed.

"Confound your beastly luck!" he said. "And, I suppose,—thanks to

your brilliant shooting, and tactful diplomacy,—the King got away."

"He got home safely with my wife and General Meyer three-quarters of
an hour before I did," replied Saunders, ignoring the sarcasm. "They held
up a train on the big stone viaduct, and I and Von Hügelweiler tapped one at
a small station called Henduck. It is a pity you were not with us, Nervy."

Trafford ground his teeth. His companion was very irritating.

"What about this afternoon?" he asked despairingly.

"I'm afraid there won't be any excitements this afternoon," replied

Saunders blandly. "I've got to accompany Karl to a bazaar in aid of
distressed gentle-women. As you are dining to-night at the palace, we shall,
of course, meet. Au revoir till then. You might well have another look at
those Dürers."

"D—— the Dürers!" said Trafford angrily, as his friend left the dining-
room. "And hang Saunders for a selfish brute!" he added to himself. "He
lures me out to this infernal country, and then sends me to picture galleries
and museums while he shoots people ski-jumping over his head." And with
the air of an aggrieved man Trafford kindled an enormous cigar and
sauntered forth into the hall.

As he did so, he was approached by the concierge.

"A letter, mein Herr," said the official: "a messenger left it a moment
ago."

Trafford took it, and as he read his eyes opened in astonishment, and his
mouth in satisfaction.

"Dear Herr Trafford," it ran. "This is to thank you for what you did for
me last night. You fight as well as you skate—and that is saying much. If
you will meet me at the Collection of Instruments of Torture in the
Strafeburg at three o'clock this afternoon, I shall try to be as fascinating as
you could wish me—and take back any unkind word I may have spoken."

G.V.S."

Trafford chuckled to himself. After all, he reflected, Saunders was not

having all the fun. He had not mentioned his adventures of the previous
evening to his friend, because he knew that Saunders would disapprove of
his action in abetting Karl's enemies. He, however, was a free lance, and if
he was not permitted to save the King's life, he might as well devote his
energies to the equally romantic task of protecting the rebel Princess. And
in his rapture at the unfolding prospect of unlimited fracas, he chuckled
audibly.

Then, turning somewhat abruptly, he bumped into a gentleman, who

must have been standing extremely close behind him. Instinctively he thrust
his letter into his pocket, realising that the missive was not merely a private
but a secret one. He half-feared that the person into whom he had cannoned,
—and whose approach he ought to have heard on the marble-paved hall,—
might have been covertly reading his letter over his shoulder; nor was he
particularly reassured at finding that the individual in question was none
other than General Meyer.

"I beg your pardon," began the Commander-in-Chief, "but I was not
quite sure that it was you, as I could not see your face while you were
reading your letter."

"My fault entirely," said Trafford genially. "Were you looking for me?"

"I was. I came to say that the command which his Majesty graciously
issued to you to dine with him to-night is also extended to your sister."

"My sister!" repeated Trafford, in dazed accents.

Meyer smiled at the other's mystification. "I was informed at the bureau
that your sister was staying at the hotel with you," he said blandly.
 Instantly the fraud of the previous evening returned to Trafford's
memory.

"She spent last night at the hotel," he said, "but she left early this
morning."

"A brief visit!" was the General's comment.

"Extremely! She is on her way to Vienna. She—she took the

opportunity of paying me a flying visit to see me compete for the King's
Cup on the Rundsee. She went on by the 8:35 this morning."

Meyer nodded, as if appreciating the other's glibness.

"Would you think me very inquisitive," he went on, "if I asked at what
hotel she will be staying in Vienna?"

"She is not going to a hotel," replied Trafford. "She is going to stay with
my aunt,—my dear Aunt Martha,—whose address I cannot for a moment
recall. I shall doubtless hear from her in a day or so, when I will
communicate her whereabouts to you—if you particularly desire it."

"Please do not trouble," said the General, scrutinising his companion

closely through his eye-glass. "But there is one further question I would put
to you. How is it that Saunders does not even know that you have a sister?"
Meyer's tones were of the blandest, but there was something in his look and
bearing that bespoke suspicions that had become certainties. Trafford read
danger in the mocking voice and smiling lips, and he grew wonderfully
cool.

"That's dead easy!—she's only my half-sister," he replied. "We see little

of each other. Saunders may well have never chanced to meet her or even
hear of her. My half-sister, you know, detests men. In fact, my only fear of
her going to Vienna is lest she should at once enter a nunnery and never be
seen again."

Meyer dropped his eye-glass in a facial convulsion of admiration.

 "Au revoir, Herr Trafford!" he said, with a gracious bow. "We meet at
eight o'clock at the Palace to-night. But I am desolated at the idea of not
seeing—your half-sister."

Shortly after the Commander-in-Chief's departure, Trafford donned his

overcoat and sallied forth on foot to the Strafeburg. The beauty of the day
was gone. The mist that had been dispelled by the noonday sun had settled
down again on the city. The penetrating cold, born of a low temperature and
a moisture-laden atmosphere, nipped and pinched the extremities, and ate
its way behind muscles and joints till Trafford,—despite his warm coat,—
was glad enough to reach the friendly shelter of the ancient prison-house. A
half-krone procured him admission to the show-rooms of the famous
building, and a young woman, angular of build and exceptionally tall, took
him under her bony wing, and commenced to show him the objects of
interest. Trafford had come to see something less forbidding than racks and
thumb-screws, but for the moment the object of his visit being nowhere to
be seen, he devoted a temporary interest to the quaint and sinister-looking
objects displayed on all sides of him. These,—as has already been made
clear,—were mainly the ingenious contrivements of filthy minds for the
infliction of the utmost possible suffering on human beings. A judiciously-
displayed assortment of racks, wheels, water-funnels, and other
abominations, soon had the effect of making Trafford feel physically sick.
Nor was his horror lessened by the custodian's monotonous and
unemotional recital of the various uses to which the different pieces of
mechanism could be put. And as his thoughts travelled back across the
centuries to the time when men did devil's work of maiming and mutilating
what was made in God's own image, a fearful fascination absorbed the
American's mind, so that he quite forgot the Princess in a sort of frenzy of
horror and wrathful mystification.

In the third room they visited,—a gaunt department of deeply-recessed

windows and heavy cross-beams,—was an assortment of especially
ferocious contrivements.

"This was used for those who made bad money," went on the long-
limbed maiden, in her droning monotone, indicating a gigantic press which
was capable of converting the human frame into the semblance of a
pancake. "The coiner lay down here, and the weights were put on his chest
——"

"Stop! for heaven's sake," ejaculated Trafford, white with emotion. "If I
could get hold of one of those mediæval torturers I'd give him a good
Yankee kick to help him realise what pain meant."

"I'm sure your kick would be a most enthusiastic one," said a voice at
his elbow. A lady in handsome furs and a blue veil—a common protection,
in Grimland, against snow-glare—was addressing him. Despite this
concealment, however, Trafford did not need to look twice before
recognising the Princess Gloria.

"You can leave us, Martha," commanded the Princess to the angular
attendant. "I am quite capable of describing these horrors to this gentleman.
I am sufficiently familiar with the Strafeburg, and shall quite possibly
become more so." Then, as the obedient Martha withdrew her many inches
from the room:

"I want to thank you for last night's work," she said to Trafford; "and if I
may, to ask——"

"Charmed to have been of service," interrupted the American, and

taking the Princess's hand, he bent low and kissed it. As he raised his head
again there was a flush in his cheek and a fire in his eye that seemed
portents of something warmer than the Platonism of a dead soul. "But don't
resume the hospitality of the Concordia," he added. "Meyer suspects, and
my lying capacities have been well-nigh exhausted."

"He has been cross-questioning you?"

"Most pertinaciously; but I lied with fluency and fervour."

The Princess laughed gaily.

"You are splendid!" she cried, clapping her hands with girlish
excitement. "Do you know," she went on presently, "that the authorities,
acting under Herr Saunders' advice, are going to adopt strenuous measures
against us?"

"Is that anything new?"

"Not exactly. But they have decided to leave off trying to murder us,
and are going to try and take us openly. The ex-Queen,—whose nerves are
not very good,—has already crossed the frontier into Austria. Father
Bernhardt has found several new hiding-places, and a brace of new
revolvers."

"And you?" asked Trafford.

"Have found you," she answered with a frank smile.

"Admirable!" laughed the American. "But tell me, pray, how I can serve
you."

"You will be dining at the Palace to-night. Find out all you can and
report to me."

Trafford was silent. He was about to dine with the King, and he had
certain scruples about the sacredness of hospitality. Quick as a flash the
Princess read his silence, and bit her lip.

"Now then," she said, as if to change the subject, "let me play the part of
showman. Here we have the famous 'Iron Maiden.'"

Trafford beheld a weird sarcophagus set upright against the wall, and
rudely shaped like a human form. On the head were painted the lineaments
of a woman's face, and the mediæval craftsman had contrived to portray a
countenance of abominable cruelty, not devoid of a certain sullen, archaic
beauty. A vertical joint ran from the crown of the head to the base, and the
thing opened in the middle with twin doors. The Princess inserted a heavy
key,—which was hanging from a convenient nail,—and displayed the
interior.
 "Now you see the charm of the thing," she went on, as the inside of the
iron doors revealed a number of ferocious spikes. "The poor wretch was put
inside, and the doors were slowly shut on him. See, there is a spike for each
eye, one for each breast, and several for the legs. The embrace of the Iron
Maiden was not a thing to be lightly undertaken."

"Of all the fiendish, hellish——"

"It was made by one Otto the Hunchback," pursued the Princess, "and it
was so admired in its day, that the reigning monarch of Bavaria had a
duplicate made, and it stands in the castle of Nuremberg to this day."

"When was this thing last used?" inquired Trafford in hoarse tones.

"It is said that the late Archbishop of Weidenbruck was killed in this
way, three years ago," replied the Princess calmly.

Trafford was white with indignation.

"Who says so?" he demanded fiercely.

"Everybody. The King hated him, and he died of cancer—officially. I

was told—and I honestly believe—that he was killed by torture, because
when the troubles of 1904 were at an end, he openly incited the people to
revolt."

"If that's true," said Trafford, "I shan't make much bones about siding
with you against Karl XXII. And it won't worry my conscience reporting to
you anything I may accidentally overhear at the dinner to-night."

"We can't fight in kid gloves," said the Princess with a sigh.

A sudden noise in the street without attracted his attention. Light as a

bird, the Princess leaped into the embrasure of the window. Trafford
followed suit. A company of soldiers was drawn up outside the building,
and facing them was a fair-sized mob jeering and cheering ironically. A
number of units were detached under an officer to either side of the
building, and it was plain that the Strafeburg was being surrounded by the
military. A second later there was the dull sound of hoofs on snow, and a
squadron of cavalry entered the platz from another direction. Lined up at
right angles to the Strafeburg, carbine on knee, they held the threatening
mob in hand with the silent menace of ball and gunpowder.

Trafford and the Princess looked at each other in blank and silent
amazement.

"This means business," said the latter, pale but composed. "The Guides
and the King's Dragoons are not being paraded for nothing. Royalty is
going to be arrested with the pomp and circumstance due to the occasion."

"They have discovered your presence here?"

"Obviously. I am caught like a rat in a trap."

Trafford scanned the bloodless but firm countenance, and admired

intensely. Here was no hysterical school-girl playing at high treason for
sheer love of excitement, but a young woman who was very much in
earnest, very much distressed, and at the same time splendidly self-
controlled. He stood a moment thinking furiously with knitted brows,
hoping that his racing thoughts might devise some scheme for averting the
impending tragedy. The room they were in was the last of a series, and
possessed of but one door. To return that way was to come back inevitably
to the entrance hall,—a proceeding which would merely expedite the
intentions of their enemies. He looked hopelessly round the chamber, and
he dashed across to the great stone fireplace. It would have formed an
admirable place of concealment had not its smoke aperture been barred with
a substantial iron grille.

"It's no use," sighed the Princess wearily. "I must face my fate. Perhaps
the good burghers will effect a rescue."

"Not if the King's Dragoons do their duty," retorted Trafford grimly.

"Mob-heroism is not much use against ball-cartridges."

"Then I must yield to the inevitable."

 Trafford shook his head fiercely.

"That is just what you must not do!" he cried. For a moment he stood
irresolute, running his hand through his stiff, up-standing hair.

"I've got some sort of an idea," he said at length.

Approaching a table whereon were displayed a number of torture

implements, he selected a pair of gigantic pinchers that had been specially
designed for tampering with human anatomy, and applied them vigorusly to
the nuts which fixed the spikes of the Iron Maiden.

"Otto the Hunchback little knew that his chef d'œuvre would be put to
such a benevolent purpose as a refuge," he said, as he loosened and
withdrew the spikes one by one from their rusty environment. "Given ten
minutes' respite, and I'll guarantee a hiding-place no one in his senses will
dream of searching."

"Quick, quick, quick!" cried the Princess in a crescendo of excitement,

transformed again from a pale, hunted creature to a gleeful schoolgirl
playing a particularly exciting game of hide-and-seek. "I hear them
searching the other rooms. Quick!"

Trafford deposited the last spike in the pocket of his overcoat, and
motioned to his companion to enter. When she had done so, he closed the
doors, locked them, and put the key into his pocket with the spikes.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Quite comfy, thanks," answered a muffled voice.

Trafford contemplated the exterior of the Iron Maiden, and was pleased
to note air-holes in the Maiden's ears. It had not been the intention of the
mediæval tormentor that his victims should die of suffocation.

A few moments later there was the tread of martial steps along the
passage, and the door was thrown open. Trafford buried himself in the
contemplation of a water-funnel that had served to inconvenience human
stomachs with an intolerable amount of fluid.

"Herr Trafford once again!"

The gentleman addressed looked up and beheld the grey-coated figure

of General Meyer. Behind him with drawn swords were two officers of the
Guides.

"Fancy meeting you again," went on the Commander-in-Chief, putting

his eye-glass to his eye, and smiling his most innocent smile.

"Your presence is really more remarkable than mine," returned Trafford.

"I am a stranger seeing the sights of Weidenbruck. You apparently are here
on sterner business."

"I am here to effect an important arrest," drawled the General. "But

perhaps you can aid us in our purpose," he went on in his blandest tones.
"Have you by any possible chance seen a young woman hereabouts?"

"I saw one here only a few minutes back."

The General produced a note-book—the same in which he had jotted

down the marks of the skating competition.

"This is most interesting," he said. "I need hardly ask you to be precise
in your information, as your remarks will be taken down verbatim."

"I will be accuracy itself," said Trafford with mock seriousness.

"Good! When did you see this woman?"

"About a quarter of an hour ago."

"Her name?"

"I am ignorant of it."

"Her age?"
 "I am bad at guessing ladies' ages; but I should say between twenty and
thirty."

"Dark or fair?"

"Dark."

"I thought so. Her height—approximately?"

"Six foot two."

Meyer stiffened himself indignantly, and the eye-glass dropped from his
eye.

"You are trifling, sir," he said angrily.

"Perhaps I have exaggerated," said Trafford calmly, "put down six foot
one-and-a-half."

Meyer darted a sidelong glance at the American, and scribbled

something in his book.

"Remember," he said, "that you may be called upon to substantiate that

statement, and that false information——"

"He must be referring to Martha," broke in one of the attendant officers.

"Martha!" cried Trafford delightedly. "Yes, I believe that was her name.
In return for half a krone she told me more in five minutes about
instruments of torture than my wildest imagination had conceived possible."

"You have seen no one else?" rapped out the General.

"Till you arrived I have not seen a soul."

Meyer glanced round the room carefully. He looked under the several
tables whereon the exhibits were displayed; he put his head up the great
stone fireplace; his glance swept past the Iron Maiden, but it rested on it for
a fraction of a second only.
 "She is not here," he announced decisively, "this gentleman has been
speaking the truth."

"A foolish habit of mine, but ineradicable," murmured Trafford

ironically.

Meyer readjusted his eye-glass and turned, smiling, to the American.

"You behold in me," he said, "a disappointed man. For the second time
in two days I have blundered. It is a coincidence, a strange coincidence.
Also it is regrettable, for I am rapidly dissipating a hard-earned reputation
for astuteness. Once again, au revoir, my dear Herr Trafford! We shall meet
at dinner to-night, and I hope often. Gentlemen of the Guides, vorwarts!"

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE SIMPLE POLICY

The royal palace of Weidenbruck—the Neptunburg, as it is called, after

a leaden statue of the sea god which stands in its central courtyard—is a
Renaissance structure of considerable size and dignity. Its main façade,—a
pompous, Palladian affair of superimposed pilasters, stone vases and floral
swags,—fronts the Königstrasse, a wide thoroughfare joining the northern
suburbs with the Cathedral Square. Internally, there is a fine set of state-
rooms, a florid chapel, and the famous muschel-saal, an apartment
decorated with shells, coral, pieces of amber, marble, and porphyry, and
other semi-precious material. It was into this apartment, scintillating with
light and colour, that Trafford found himself ushered on his arrival at the
royal domain.

General Meyer, resplendent in a pale blue and silver uniform and sundry
brilliant orders, received him and presented him to his wife, a handsome
lady of South-American origin and an ultra-Republican love of finery.
Saunders was there, also with his wife, the latter beautiful and stately as a
statue, in an empire gown of creamy green with red roses at her breast.
There was an old gentleman with a billowy white moustache, and a young
officer of the Guides. There were the diplomatic representatives of France
and England, and a bevy of court ladies with the expensive paraphernalia of
plumes, egrets, and voluminous trains. The company was a decorative one,
and the setting sumptuous, only needing the sun of the royal presence to
gild the refined gold of the exhilarating scene.

Saunders took an early opportunity of drawing Trafford apart.

"Nervy, my boy," the former began, "the King, Meyer, and myself have
been having a little private conversation about you."

"A most interesting topic, to be sure."

"Most. The conclusion we arrived at was that you had been making an
idiotic ass of yourself."

"Details, dear flatterer?" demanded Trafford.

"This sister business!" expostulated Saunders. "Why, everybody knows

you arrived at the Hôtel Concordia by yourself, and without expectation of
a visit from any relative."

"Everybody knows it?" queried Trafford blandly.

"By everybody, I mean the police, who study most things, and
particularly the visitors' list at the 'Concordia.' The hall-porter of that
excellent hotel is one of Meyer's most trusted agents, and there is not the
slightest doubt that it was the Princess Gloria who enjoyed the privilege of
claiming you as a brother."

"A half-brother," corrected Trafford.

"A half-brother, then," growled Saunders. "Anyhow, it is established

beyond a doubt that you have helped the Princess by every means in your
power."

"Then we will admit what is universally known," said Trafford coolly.

"Only, I don't agree with your description of me as an idiotic ass. I came out
here for excitement, and as you don't seem willing to provide me with it, I
am finding it for myself. Besides, the Princess is a splendid little person,
and to cultivate her society is the act not of an ass, but of a philosopher."

"That sort of philosophy leads to the Strafeburg," retorted Saunders. "Be

warned, old friend. I know more about this charming country than you do.
You have won the King's Prize. Wrap it in tissue paper and take it by the
midnight express to Vienna. There is excellent skating to be had there—and
you may come across your half-sister."

"My dear humourist," said Trafford, smiling and twirling his moustache.
"I have no further use for—half-sisters."

Saunders started in amazement, not at the words themselves, but at their

tone, and the twinkle that accompanied them.

"Nervy, Nervy Trafford," he said solemnly. "Do you suppose a

Schattenberg sets her cap at an American! If she wins a throne,—as she may
for all I know,—you will be put in a row with other gallant dupes of her
witchery, and you will be allowed to kiss her hand every first and second
Thursdays. Give it up, man," went on Saunders more heartily. "Give up
playing poodle-dog to beauty in distress. You will get plenty of scars and
very few lumps of sugar. Moreover, you may take it from me that a sterner
policy of suppression is being pursued. There are important arrests
impending."

"Important arrests!" echoed Trafford, laughing softly. "Why, I was the

means of spoiling one this afternoon. I was in the Strafeburg with the
Princess when Meyer turned up with foot and horse to arrest the poor child.
Not wishing to witness a pathetic scene, I unscrewed the spikes of the Iron
Maiden, and popped Gloria von Schattenberg inside the barbarous
contrivance. Needless to say, no one, not even Meyer, thought of looking in
such an impossible hiding-place. So you see, my British friend, important
arrests sometimes fail to come off."
 "Sometimes, but not invariably," said a voice close by the American's
ear. Trafford shuddered rather than started, for he recognised the acid tones
of General Meyer, and he was getting used to finding that gentleman near
him when he believed him far away. But the words depressed him,
nevertheless, for they held a note of ruthless certainty that smelled of damp
walls and barred windows. He realised that he had made an enemy, a
personal enemy, who was not likely to respect the liberty of a young
foreigner who baulked his choicest schemes.

"I stepped across the room to warn you of the King's entrance," went on
the General suavely. "His Majesty is on the point of entering the chamber."

A door was flung open by liveried and powdered menials. The company
drew itself into two lines, and between them, smiling, portly, debonnair,
walked the big, half-pathetic, half-humorous figure of the King. He bowed
to right and left, murmuring conventional terms of greeting to all and
sundry.

To the American he said:

"I congratulate you heartily, Herr Trafford, on winning my skating prize.

I am a great admirer of the nation to which you have the privilege to
belong."

Trafford bowed, and took the King's hand, which was extended to him.

"To-morrow," went on the monarch, "I am going to Weissheim, land of

clean snow, bright suns, and crisp, invigorating air! Farewell, then, to
Weidenbruck, with its penetrating chilliness, its vile, rheumatic fogs, and its
viler and more deadly intrigues! Then hurrah for ski and skate and
toboggan, and the good granite curling-stone that sings its way from
crampit to tee over the faultless ice! What say you, Saunders?"

"I say hurrah for winter sport, your Majesty, and a curse on fogs,
meteorological and political!"

Dinner was a meal of splendid dulness. Excellent viands, faultless

champagne, and a gorgeous display of plate were not in themselves
sufficient to counteract the atmosphere of well-bred boredom that sat heavy
on the company. The King made desperate efforts to sustain his role of
exuberant geniality, but his wonted spirits flagged visibly as the evening
wore on, and it was clear that the events of the morning had left him
depressed and heart-weary. Saunders, indeed, chatted volubly to Meyer's
better-half, a lady who talked politics with a reckless freedom that was
palliated by occasional flashes of common sense. Meyer himself,—glass in
eye, tasting each dish and sipping each wine with the slow gusto of the
connoisseur,—maintained an epigrammatic conversation with Mrs.
Saunders, whose ready tongue had nearly as keen an edge as his own. But
poor Trafford,—despite a healthy appetite and an appreciation of his high
honour,—was enjoying himself but little. The lady whom he was privileged
to sit next to,—the Frau Generalin von Bilderbaum, née Fräulein von
Helder, formerly maid of honour to the ex-Queen,—was a wife of the
General with the snowy moustache, and her sole topic of conversation was
her husband. She was a lady of immense proportions and a more than
corresponding appetite, and her devotion to her spouse would have been
more romantic, had she possessed features as well as contours. During the
meal Trafford was much enlightened as to the loyal and devoted career of
General von Bilderbaum and the digestive capacities of an ex-maid of
honour.

"The General fought with distinction in the trenches at Offen in '84, and
he took part also with great distinction in the hill fighting round about
Kurdeburg in '86. In '87——" Fortunately for Trafford the flow of the
worthy lady's recital was checked. A menial, pompous, in plush and yellow
braid, put his powdered head between him and his persecutrix, whispering
in his ear: "His Majesty will take wine with you, sir."

Trafford looked up to the end of the table where the King sat. King
Karl, with raised glass and a resumption of his genial smile, was
endeavouring to catch his eye.

Trafford raised his glass and flushed. It is not given to every man to be
toasted by a reigning sovereign, and Trafford felt a sense of pride that
surged up in his bosom with no little strength. Then the incongruity of his
position struck him. There was he, eating the King's food, and drinking the
King's wine, and at the same time pledged to help and abet his most
relentless enemy. Nay, more, he had sworn to abuse his hospitality that
evening by gleaning any facts which might help the rebellious Princess to
continue free to work out her ambitious and subversive propaganda. And
now he was signalled out for especial honour, and he blushed, not because
the eyes of the ladies regarded him with frank admiration, not because
Meyer looked sideways at him with sneering inscrutability, but because his
host, the King, regarded him with a glance that was all welcome and good
fellowship. And in the emotion and excitement of the moment Trafford
recalled Saunders' favourable opinion of King Karl, rather than the Princess
Gloria's sinister suggestion of the torture-chamber. But just as, with mixed
feelings and mantled cheek, he threw back his head to empty his glass, a
noise from outside attracted his attention. It was a low, humming noise at
first, with sharp notes rising from its depths. But it grew louder, and
something in its swelling vibrations checked the glass untasted in his hand.
Men and women looked at each other, and the conversation ceased
automatically. Louder the noise grew—louder, till it was like the roaring of
a great wind or the snarling of innumerable wild beasts. And yet, besides its
note of wrath and menace, it held a sub-tone of deep, insistent purpose. Fair
cheeks began to blanch, and an air of pained expectancy hung heavy on the
throng. For there was no longer any possibility of mistaking its import. It
was the hoarse murmur of a mob, wherein the mad fury of beast and
element were blended with human hatred, and dominated by human
intelligence.

Meyer sipped his wine composedly, but his face was a sickly green.
General von Bilderbaum flushed peony, and Trafford felt big pulses beating
in different parts of his body. The situation was intolerable in its frozen
anxiety. With an oath the King rose to his feet, threw back the great purple
curtains that masked the windows, and flung open the tall casements. A
redoubled roar of voices flowed in with a stream of icy air. The ladies
shuddered in their décolleté gowns, but Trafford,—heedless alike of frost
and etiquette,—was on the balcony in an instant by the King's side, looking
down on the great street. The other men followed suit immediately, and the
sight that met their gaze was a stirring one. The broad Königstrasse, which
ran past the palace, was packed with a dense and swaying throng.
 In the midst of a bevy of dark-coated police walked a tall figure,
handcuffed, bareheaded, his clothes torn as if he had been taken with
violence, yet retaining withal an air of fierce scorn and tameless pride. On
each side of the police tramped companies of infantry with fixed bayonets.
At the head and at the rear of the little procession rode formidable
detachments of the King's Dragoons. And surging behind, menacing,
furious, determined,—yet held in check by the cold logic of steel and bullet,
—pressed and swayed and shouted a great mass of turbulent humanity.

"They are arresting Father Bernhardt," drawled General Meyer, who

surveyed the scene through his eye-glass and with a slight smile. "This is an
illuminating example of the straightforward policy of repression."

"At any rate, he is being arrested," said the King. "Under your system
he was always on the point of being arrested. Once inside the Strafeburg,
Father Bernhardt will not derive much assistance from his noisy friends out
here."

"Once inside the Strafeburg—yes!" sneered Meyer. "But there is still a

quarter of a mile to be traversed; and unless I mis-read the temper of the
good Weidenbruckers, there will be some sort of attempt at a rescue in a
minute or two."

"Why don't they fire on the mob?" spluttered out General von
Bilderbaum, stifling a fine military oath in his billowy moustache.

"Because I ordered the Colonel commanding the Dragoons not to fire

unless a rescue was actually being attempted," answered Meyer.
"Revolutions are stupid things, and are best avoided when possible."

"I'd fire on the brutes if I were in command," murmured the old General
with suppressed fierceness, as the crowd pressed close at the heels of the
last file of Dragoons.

Hardly had he spoken when a harsh order rang out above the growling
of the mob, the rear rank swung their horses round, and with a click of
carbines a volley rang out into the icy air. A bullet struck the stonework of
the palace, not far from the King's head, for the soldiers had fired purposely
in the air. Karl never even winced. His features wore a look of pained
distress that no personal danger could accentuate. General Meyer quietly
took cover behind a friendly pilaster, but Trafford,—wildly excited by the
novel scene,—watched eagerly the quick panic of the mob. Helter-skelter
they ran, tumbling over each other in a frenzied effort to avoid the stern
reprisal they had so ruthlessly invited.

"A whiff of grape shot!" said Saunders. "A little firmness, a little
sternness even, and a deal of trouble is saved. Another volley in the air, half
a dozen executions, and a few sharp sentences of imprisonment, and a
desperate situation will give way to normal tranquillity."

"I believe you are right," sighed the King.

"I don't," said Meyer; and as he spoke the crowd came back again,
surging and rebellious, shouting with rage and shame and furious
determination.

"See! a woman is leading them on!" cried the young officer of the
Guides.

"So I perceive," said Meyer, turning to Trafford, who stood next him. "It
is the young lady whose arrest I strove to bring about this afternoon in the
Strafeburg. It would perhaps have been better for her if my purpose had
been fulfilled."

Trafford drew in his breath and grasped the hand-rail of the iron balcony
with a vise-like grip.

"They won't fire on her!" he said in a choked voice.

"I think so," said Meyer smoothly. "A rescue is certainly being
attempted."

For a moment it seemed that the torrent of frenzied humanity would

bear down and engulf the thin ranks of soldiery; but once again the rear
rank swung their horses round, once again there was a precise ripple of
small arms, and once again there was the spluttering crack of levelled
carbines.

Trafford, white as a sheet, trembling with suppressed emotion, shut his

eyes. When he opened them the compact mass of the crowd had melted into
scattered groups fleeing for dear life in every direction. Only, on the
trampled snow of the Königstrasse, lay a number of dark and prostrate
objects, some feebly moving, some stark still. Trafford turned violently
from the balcony and entered the dining-room with the intention of making
an instant departure. Wild-eyed, heedless of good manners, court
conventions, or everything indeed but a dominating desire to break out into
the stricken thoroughfare, he dashed madly through the great room. In the
doorway a hand, a cool feminine hand, checked him, and he found himself
looking into the unemotional grey eyes of Mrs. Robert Saunders.

"Where are you going?" she asked firmly.

"Into the street."

"Why?"

"Murder has been done. Someone may need succour."

"The wounded will be looked after," said Mrs. Saunders calmly, "and by
more capable hands than yours. Your departure now without a formal leave-
taking of his Majesty would produce the worst impression. As my husband's
friend, your conduct would reflect on him. I must ask you to be prudent."

Trafford's eyes flamed furiously at the maddening check. His whole

system was quivering with the excitement of the situation and the intense
desire to find relief for tortured nerves in vigorous action. There was a
strange pain, too, in his heart, a queer, stabbing sensation that he neither
analysed nor understood. All he knew was that the Palace walls cramped
him like a narrow cell, that he needed air,—the air of the Königstrasse. And
yet nothing short of rude violence could have brushed aside the well-
developed young lady who blocked his exit with such exasperating vis
inertiæ. With a really fine effort of self-control he mastered himself.
 "I will be prudent," he said bitterly.

"Thank you."

"It would never do," went on Trafford ironically, "for your husband to
fall out of favour with the humane King Karl. He might wake to find
himself in the dungeons of the Strafeburg;" and with a polite bow he
returned through the dining-room to the balcony.
 "Well," he asked of Saunders, "does peace reign at Weidenbruck?"

"There seems to be trouble in the direction of the Grass-market," replied

Saunders, pointing to a quarter from which distant sounds of shouting were
faintly audible. Almost as he spoke, a red glare lit up the heavens with a
rosy flickering glow.

"Incendiarism!" muttered old General Bilderbaum, feeling instinctively

for his sword.

The King whispered something in General Meyer's ear.

The Commander-in-Chief nodded.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ON THE WARPATH

While Trafford was devouring the enticing viands of the Neptunburg,

and listening to the inspiriting conversation of the Frau Generalin von
Bilderbaum, a certain captain in the third regiment of Guides was the prey
to a whole host of mixed sentiments, divergent ideals, and other troubles of
a conscientious egotist. Ulrich von Hügelweiler was sitting in his barrack
quarters, smoking hard and thinking harder, and occasionally kicking the
legs of the table in an excess of mental indecision.

"I am a loyalist by instinct," he murmured to himself, lighting his

fourteenth cigarette. "But to whom? Loyalty is a virtue,—a grand virtue as a
rule,—but loyalty to the wrong person is as immoral as worship paid to a
false god." And having delivered himself of this platitudinous monologue
he kicked another flake of varnish from the leg of his long-suffering table.
 He recalled the post of honour that had been assigned him that morning
on the slopes of Nussheim, and he longed to prove his worth by the solid
arguments of a soldier's sword. And yet ... and yet ... it ought to have been
he, not the American, who was the honoured guest at the Neptunburg, that
night.

For the memory of his disappointment on the Rundsee rankled

intolerably in his retentive brain. Meyer had offered him a dirty task and
had cheated him of fame and glory because he had refused to undertake it.
He hated Meyer—hated him far more than he loved the King. He hated
Trafford, too, for winning the King's Prize. He threw away his last cigarette-
end with a gesture of annoyance, and rose impatiently to his feet. He would
have liked at that moment to have faced Meyer on even terms with
measured swords and stripped body; and having pinked the Jew's bosom, he
would like to do the same service to the cursed American, who had come
between him and his honourable ambition. But Karl had played no part, so
far as he knew, in the dishonourable intrigue which had prevented him
being placed first in the skating competition. Karl was a man who had
proved his personal courage in the rising of 1904, and who,—despite the
ugly rumours which flooded the city,—had an undoubted charm of
personality. He repented of having tendered his resignation, for the manner
in which that resignation had been deferred touched all that was most
soldierly and honourable in his heart. And then into the troubled whirlpool
of his thoughts came a vision, so calmly dominating, so unconquerably
insistent, so sweetly imperious, that the dictates alike of hate and loyalty
grew faint and indecisive before the splendid allure seen of his inward eye.
A Princess stood before him, bright eyes looked pleadingly into his own,
soft hands caressed the lappet of his coat. A breath sweeter than the spices
of Araby was in his nostrils. Conscience, maybe, called one way, but
something stronger than conscience called the other. The call of the one was
clear and loud; but the call of the other stirred every fibre in his sensuous
being.

He sat down again in his arm-chair, and buried his face in his hands, and
because his eyes were blinded by the action, the vision of Gloria's youthful
beauty and smiling lips grew clearer, more tangible, more seductive. His
mind harked back to the dismal moment when he was leaving the Rundsee,
a defeated, discredited candidate for the blue ribbon of the skating world.
The Princess had appeared to him at a moment when her bright presence
had seemed especially dazzling by contrast with the black thoughts that
filled his brain. She had appealed to him for assistance, had promised, or at
least hinted at, the great reward that would bear him rose-crowned to the
stars. That was worth much—everything perhaps—even a soldier's honour.
But would his honour inevitably be sacrificed by placing his sword at the
Princess's disposal? He had reasons for being dissatisfied with his present
service, he argued. Karl—well, he could not bring himself to dislike Karl,
but he was certainly a man of whom much ill was spoken. His Commander-
in-Chief, Meyer, he knew for a scheming and unscrupulous politician rather
than an honest soldier. And so, little by little, desire suborned conscience,
till he persuaded himself,—as self-centred men habitually do,—that the
path of pleasure was the path of duty.

The blare of a bugle broke rudely on his meditations. Rising and

looking out of the window, he saw his men hurriedly mustering in the
barrack-yard. A second later his door burst open and his Colonel entered.

"Captain Hügelweiler, proceed instantly with a full company and fifty

rounds of ball-cartridges to the Domkircheplatz," came the sharp command.
"There is trouble outside the Strafeburg, and your orders are to restore
tranquillity at all costs."

* * * * *

When the party at the Neptunburg broke up abruptly, as it did soon after
the glare of incendiarism had flushed the sky to a threatening crimson,
Trafford paid a hasty leave-taking of his Majesty, and hastened down the
great staircase to the entrance hall. Here stood Saunders in close
consultation with General Meyer.

"Nervy," said the former, "if I were you I should stay here. There is no
necessity to go, and if you come up to my room we can watch things
comfortably from my window."

"Thanks," said Trafford curtly, "I am not fond of watching things from
the window."
 "You really must not leave us," said the Commander-in-Chief, with
exaggerated politeness.

"I'm afraid I must, though," said the American decisively, buttoning up

his coat and putting on his snow boots over his evening shoes.

"We really cannot allow you to depart," persisted Meyer, walking to the
hall-door and ostentatiously shooting a massive bolt.

A gleam lighted in Trafford's eye, but his response was politeness itself.

I must insist on tearing myself away," he retorted.

Saunders and Meyer exchanged glances.

"Herr Trafford," said the latter, "when I said you must not go, I meant to
couch a command in terms of courtesy. The streets of Weidenbruck are in a
dangerous state to-night, and as the person responsible for the public safety
I really cannot sanction your departure from the Neptunburg."

Trafford glanced round him. On either side were flunkeys in powdered

wigs, knee breeches, and yellow coats. Between him and the street he
desired to gain was—an elderly Jew.

"Is your command based solely on a concern for my personal safety?"

he asked.

"Solely," was Meyer's sarcastic reply.

"Then I shall disregard it," said Trafford, producing his gun and
flourishing it about in reckless fashion, "for I am quite capable of protecting
myself, dear General, I assure you."

Meyer flinched violently as the muzzle of the deadly weapon was

pointed in all directions, and most frequently at his own person. For a half-
moment he hesitated; he had been playing a game of bluff, but he had not
appreciated the bluffing capabilities of his opponent. He might call the
guard, but he had a nerve-destroying idea that if he did so the mad
American would have an accident with the revolver and shoot him through