“Why do you wish to see the king?” she asked.

Was there a tremble of fear in her voice?  Even as he looked Nathaniel saw the flush deepen in her cheeks and her eyes light with nervous eagerness.

“I am sent by Obadiah Price,” he hazarded.

A flash of relief shot into the woman’s face.

“The king is at his office,” she repeated.  “His office is near the temple.”

Nathaniel retired with another bow.

“By thunder, Strang, old boy, you’ve certainly got an eye for beauty!” he laughed as he hurried through the grove.

“And Obadiah Price must be somebody, after all!”

The Mormon temple was the largest structure in St. James, a huge square building of hewn logs, and Nathaniel did not need to make inquiry to find it.  On one side was a two-story building with an outside stairway leading to the upper floor, and a painted sign announced that on this second floor was situated the office of James Jesse Strang, priest, king and prophet of the Mormons.  It was still very early and the general merchandise store below was not open.  Congratulating himself on this fact, and with the fingers of his right hand reaching instinctively for his pistol butt, Captain Plum mounted the stair.  When half way up he heard voices.  As he reached the landing at the top he caught the quick swish of a skirt.  Another step and he was in the open door.  He was not soon enough to see the person who had just disappeared through an opposite door but he knew that it was a woman.  Directly in front of him as if she had been expecting his arrival was a young girl, and no sooner had he put a foot over the threshold than she hurried toward him, the most acute anxiety and fear written in her face.

“You are Captain Plum?” she asked breathlessly.

Nathaniel stopped in astonishment.

“Yes, I’m—­”

“Then you must hurry—­hurry!” cried the girl excitedly.  “You have not a moment to lose!  Go back to your ship before it is too late!  She says they will kill you—­”

“Who says so?” thundered Captain Plum.  He sprang to the girl’s side and caught her by the arm.  “Who says that I will be killed?  Tell me—­who gave you this warning for me?”

“I—­I—­tell you so!” stammered the young girl.  “I—­I—­heard the king—­they will kill you—­” Her lips trembled.  Nathaniel saw that her eyes were already red from crying.  “You will go?” she pleaded.

Nathaniel had taken her hand and now he held it tightly in his own.  His head was thrown back, his eyes were upon the door across the room.  When he looked again into the girlish face there was flashing joyous defiance in his eyes, and in his voice there was confession of the truth that had suddenly come to overwhelm whatever law of self preservation he might have held unto himself.

“No, my dear, I am not going back to my ship,” he spoke softly.  “Not unless she who is in that room comes out and bids me go herself!”