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 Microsoft
Project 2013
The book that should have been in the box®

Bonnie Biafore

Beijing | Cambridge | Farnham | Köln | Sebastopol | Tokyo

Microsoft Project 2013: The Missing Manual
by Bonnie Biafore

Copyright © 2013 Bonnie Biafore. All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States of America.

Published by O’Reilly Media, Inc.,

1005 Gravenstein Highway North, Sebastopol, CA 95472.

O’Reilly books may be purchased for educational, business, or sales promotional use.
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or [email protected].

April 2013: First Edition.

Revision History for the First Edition:

2013-04-09 First release
See http://oreilly.com/catalog/errata.csp?isbn=9781449357962 for release details.

The Missing Manual is a registered trademark of O’Reilly Media, Inc. The Missing
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While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher
assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the
use of the information contained in it.

ISBN-13: 978-1-449-35796-2

[LSI]
 Contents

Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii

Part One: Project Management: The Missing

Manual
Chapter 1: Projects: In the Beginning. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
What’s So Special About Projects?. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4
What Is Project Management?. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
Why Manage Projects?. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
Picking the Right Projects. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
Gaining Support for a Project . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16
Publicizing a Project and Its Manager . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20

Chapter 2: Planning a Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

Project Planning in a Nutshell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24
Defining the Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28
Documenting How You’ll Run the Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
Laying Out Project Processes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36

Part Two: Project Planning: More Than

Creating a Schedule
Chapter 3: Getting to Know Microsoft Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
Launching Project 2013. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
Getting Around Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46
Scheduling Manually or Automatically. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59

Chapter 4: Creating a Simple Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69

Creating a New Project File . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70
Creating a Task List . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71
Organizing Work. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74
Putting Tasks in the Right Order. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76
Switching Tasks to Auto Scheduled Mode. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
Assigning People and Other Resources. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79
Saving Your Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82

iii
 Chapter 5: Setting Up a Project File. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83
Creating a New Project File . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84
Setting the Project Start Date. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
Saving a New Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92
Opening a Project File. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99
Setting Standard Workdays. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102
Defining Work Times with Calendars. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107

Chapter 6: Identifying the Work to Be Done.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123

Breaking Down Work into Manageable Chunks. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124
Adding Tasks to Your Project File. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
Organizing Tasks. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142
Documenting Task Details . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153
Setting Up a Custom WBS Code. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157

Chapter 7: Building a Schedule. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161

Estimating Task Work and Duration. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162
Linking Tasks. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176
Scheduling Tasks to Accommodate Specific Dates. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186

Chapter 8: Building a Team for Your Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195

Identifying Project Resources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 196
Understanding Project’s Resource Types . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202
Adding Resources to Your Project File. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204
Removing Resources from Your Project . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 212
Defining When Work Resources Are Available. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213
Defining Costs for Resources. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218
Using Generic or Tentative Resources. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222
Adding More Resource Information. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 224

Chapter 9: Assigning Resources to Tasks. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227

Assigning Work Resources to Tasks. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 228
Assigning Material Resources to Tasks. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245
Assigning Cost Resources to Tasks. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248
Reviewing Resource Assignments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249
Understanding Duration, Work, and Units . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 251
Modifying Resource Assignments. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255

Chapter 10: Setting Up a Project Budget. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263

Putting a Price Tag on Your Project . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264
Reviewing Cost Information. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266
Comparing Costs to Your Budget. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 273
Setting the Project’s Fiscal Year . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287

iv Contents
 Chapter 11: Reviewing and Fine-Tuning Your Plan.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 291
Reviewing the Schedule and Cost. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 292
Project Tools for Change. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 306
Making Sure Tasks Are Set Up Correctly. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 312
Building Reality into Assignments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 320
Balancing Workloads. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 327
Shortening the Schedule. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 349
Reducing Project Costs. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 360
Playing What-If Games. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 364

Chapter 12: Saving the Project Plan. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 369

Obtaining Approval for the Plan. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 370
Storing Project Documents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 371
Preserving the Original Plan in Project . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 373

Part Three: Projects in Action

Chapter 13: Tracking Status. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 391
Methods for Tracking Status. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 392
Preparing to Update Your Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 395
Obtaining Status Data. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 401
Updating Schedule Status in Project . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 406
Updating Project Costs. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 424

Chapter 14: Evaluating and Correcting Project Performance. . . . . . . . . . 429

Scheduled, Baseline, and Actual Values . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 430
Is the Project on Time? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 431
Is the Project Within Budget? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 439
Earned Value Analysis. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 441
Getting Back on Track. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 449

Chapter 15: Managing Change.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 455

Setting Up a Change-Management System . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 456
Managing Changes in Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 460

Chapter 16: Reporting on Projects. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 469

An Overview of Project’s Reports. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 470
Working with Graphical Reports. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 476
Working with Visual Reports. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 485
Printing Views to Report Project Information. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 500

Contents v
 Chapter 17: Closing a Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 503
Obtaining Project Acceptance. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 504
Tying Up Loose Ends. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 504
Producing Project Closeout Reports . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 505
What to Do with Project Information. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 511

Part Four: Project Power Tools

Chapter 18: Working on More Than One Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 515
Managing Multiple Projects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 516
Sharing Resources Among Projects. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 524

Chapter 19: Exchanging Data Between Programs. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 531

Copying Information . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 533
Importing and Exporting Data. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 540
Integrating Project and Outlook. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 559

Chapter 20: Linking and Embedding.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 565

Understanding Linking and Embedding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 566
Linking and Embedding Project Data. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 568
Linking and Embedding Data into Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 574
Working with Linked and Embedded Objects. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 578
Hyperlinking to Information. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 583

Part Five: Customizing Project

Chapter 21: Viewing What You Want. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 591
Creating Your Own Views. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 592
Changing Tables. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 632
Formatting Text . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 639
Filtering Through Information. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 642
Grouping Project Elements. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 656
Defining Your Own Fields. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 662

Chapter 22: Customizing the Ribbon and Quick Access Toolbar. . . . . . . 683
Customizing the Quick Access Toolbar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 684
Customizing the Ribbon. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 685
Sharing a Custom Ribbon and Quick Access Toolbar. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 694

vi Contents
 Chapter 23: Reusing Project Information. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 697
Understanding the Types of Templates. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 698
Storing Project Settings and Elements. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 699
Sharing Custom Elements. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 701
Building Templates for Projects. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 707

Chapter 24: Saving Time with Macros.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 715

What You Can Do with Macros . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 715
Recording Macros. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 716
Running Macros . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 719
Viewing and Editing Macro Code . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 722
Learning More About Programming Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 724

Part Six: Appendixes

Appendix A: Installing Project.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 727
Installing Project on Your Computer. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 728
Activating Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 734
Maintaining and Repairing Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 734

Appendix B: Getting Help. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 737

In Search of Project Help. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .739
Microsoft Office Online. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 742
Interactive and In-Depth Assistance. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 743

Appendix C: Keyboard Shortcuts.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 745

How to Use Keyboard Shortcuts. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 745
Project Keyboard Shortcuts. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 747

Index. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 753
Note You can download one additional chapter—Chapter 25: Collaborating on Projects with SharePoint—from this book’s
Missing CD page at www.missingmanuals.com/cds. See page xxii for more about the Missing CD page.

Contents vii
The Missing Credits
About the Author
Bonnie Biafore has always been a zealous organizer of everything
from software demos to gourmet meals, with the occasional vacation
trip to test the waters of spontaneity. As an engineer, she’s fasci-
nated by how things work and how to make things work better.
Ironically, fate, not planning, turned these obsessions into a career
as a project manager. When Bonnie realized she was managing
projects, her penchant for planning and follow-through kicked in
and she earned a Project Management Professional certification from
the Project Management Institute.
When she isn’t managing projects for clients, Bonnie writes about and teaches project
management, personal finance and investing, and technology. She has a knack for
mincing these dry subjects into easy-to-understand morsels and then spices them
to perfection with her warped sense of humor.
Bonnie is also the author of Successful Project Management, which won an Inter-
national Award of Merit from the Society of Technical Communication, QuickBooks
2013: The Missing Manual (now Intuit’s Official Guide to QuickBooks), and several
other award-winning books. She has recorded several courses on project manage-
ment, Microsoft Project, and QuickBooks for Lynda.com. In addition, she writes and
presents frequently for the Microsoft Project Users Group.
When unshackled from her computer, she hikes in the mountains with her dogs,
cycles, cooks gourmet food, and mostly tries not to act her age. She has also pub-
lished her first novel, Fresh Squeezed, featuring hit men, stupid criminals, and much
political incorrectness. You can learn more at her website, www.bonniebiafore.com,
or email her at [email protected].

About the Creative Team

Dawn Mann (editor) is associate editor for the Missing Manual series. When not
reading about Microsoft Project, she beads, plays soccer, and causes trouble. Email:
[email protected].
Melanie Yarbrough (production editor) lives and works in Cambridge, MA. When
she’s not ushering books through production, she bakes, writes, and sews whatever
she can think up.
Sean Earp (technical reviewer), CISSP, MCITP, is Program Manager at a large software
company in Redmond, WA, specializing in Project, Project Server, and SharePoint
technologies. Trained in the school of hard knocks, Sean has experienced nearly

The Missing Credits ix

 every project-management pitfall outlined in this book. When not in front of his
computer, Sean likes spending time with his wife and three wonderful kids, being a
Cub Scout leader, and training for a marathon.
Michael Wharton (technical reviewer), MVP, MBA, PMP, MCT, MCITP, MCTS, MCSD,
MCSE+I, MCDBA, MCC 2012, has been a Project/SharePoint Consultant since 2003.
He has implemented project server in over twenty-five PMO organizations, trained
hundreds of project managers, migrated many organizations from project server
2003 and has passed over 40 Microsoft certification exams. He is active in the local
PMI chapter, MPUG community, MS Project Forums, PASS and many local technical
user groups. Michael lives in North Carolina and is happily married to his wife Gwen
and loves spending time with his family when not working on project. Michael’s field
notes can be found in his blog at http://MyProjectExpert.com, and you can reach
him at [email protected].
Julie Van Keuren (proofreader) quit her newspaper job in 2006 to move to Montana
and live the freelancing dream. She and her husband, M.H. (who is living the novel-
writing dream), have two sons, Dexter and Michael. Email: [email protected].

Acknowledgments
No O’Reilly book that I author can go to print without me acknowledging the awe-
some team at O’Reilly. Dawn Mann is editor extraordinaire. She can spot potential
points of confusion in my writing from a mile away and usually comes up with a
wonderfully clear alternative. If she’s stumped, she asks for clarification in a way
that even a diva (oh, I so hope I haven’t become one) wouldn’t mind. She stays on
top of details, so they’re taken care of before anyone even thinks to ask. She has
earned my gratitude for keeping me company via email as we both worked weekend
after weekend to complete this book. My thanks go to Melanie Yarbrough and the
rest of the O’Reilly folks for shepherding my book through the publication process.
I am grateful for the eagle eye of Julie Van Keuren, the proofreader, for wrangling
punctuation, capitalization, and ungainly sentences into submission.
The technical reviewers Sean Earp and Michael Wharton caught my mistakes and
shared their knowledge of the finer points of project management, Microsoft Project,
and SharePoint. I was fortunate to have them as guinea pigs for the many sections
that I ripped apart and put back together. Fortunately, my rewrites successfully
passed their gimlet-eyed scrutiny.
I also want to thank a few old friends and several new ones in the project-management
community. Teresa Stover is a wonderful writer, a good friend, and a trusted col-
league who is always willing to pitch in to dissect gnarly Project features despite her
deadlines. Ellen Lehnert is a fabulous trainer and another one of my go-to people
for Project questions. I’ve also had the great fortune to befriend and, in some cases,
collaborate with other incredible Project educators: Sam Huffman, Larry Christofaro,
John Riopel, Eric Uyttewaal, and Eric Verzuh.

x The Missing Credits

I am fortunate to have more good friends than my prickly personality deserves.
Special thanks go to all of them—who leave me alone when I’m under deadlines, go
out with me when I need a break, and still speak to me after another trying winter
of work. A shout-out to everyone in Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers and the Rocky
Mountain chapter of the Mystery Writers of America for letting me be part of the tribe.
Finally, I thank my agent, Neil Salkind, for his hard work, support, and friendship
over the past (is it really?) 13 years. He recently retired, and I’d like to think I helped
him realize that dream. Neil, you haven’t heard the last from me!
——Bonnie Biafore

The Missing Credits xi

Introduction

P
eople have been managing projects for centuries. The construction of the
mountaintop city of Machu Picchu was a project—although no one’s really
sure whether the ancient Inca had a word for “project manager.” In fact, you
may not have realized you were a project manager when you were assigned your
first project to manage. Sure, you’re organized and good at making sure people get
things done, but consistently managing projects to successful conclusions requires
specific skills and know-how. Whether you’re building a shining city on a hill or aim-
ing for something more mundane, Microsoft Project helps you document project
tasks, build a schedule, assign resources, track progress, and make changes until
your project is complete.
Perhaps you’ve launched Project, and now you’re staring at the screen, wondering
about the meaning of the program’s Gantt Chart and Resource Usage views. Or
maybe you already have dozens of Project schedules under your belt. Either way,
some Project features can be mystifying. You know what you want to do, but you
can’t find the magic combination that makes Project do it.
This book addresses the double whammy of learning your way around project
management and Microsoft Project at the same time. It provides an introduction to
managing projects and shows you how to use Project to do so. For more experienced
project managers, this book can help you take your Project prowess to a new level
with tips, time saving tricks, and mastery of features that never quite behaved the
way you wanted.

xiii
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
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
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