Into Austria.

“Any time,” said the ambassador gently, “that you are ready to give me your parole, I shall have your bonds removed.”

“I wouldn’t give my parole to you or any other of your kind,” declared Chester grimly.

“I’m sorry you feel that way about it,” declared the ambassador, with a deprecating gesture.  “I assure you, I shall see that you are given safe conduct back to Italy.  But in the meantime, I can take no chances upon your escaping.”

“Do as you please,” said Chester.

Again a captive, Chester left Venice.

In a first class compartment of the special train that was bearing the Austrian ambassador and his staff rapidly toward Trieste was also Chester, nursing a sore head, the result of trying to vanquish the ambassador and the two other Austrians when the diplomat had ordered him seized.  The lad put up such a battle that one of his opponents had found it necessary to tap him gently on top of the head with the butt of his revolver.  That had settled the argument, and when Chester returned to consciousness he was aboard the special train, bound, and seated across from the ambassador.

“Sorry we had to give you that crack on the head,” the ambassador continued, “but you wouldn’t behave without it.  Does it pain you much?”

“Not so much as the fact that you are a race lacking in all sense of gratitude,” replied Chester.  “I wish now I had let you lie where you were.  The next time I shall keep my mouth shut, you can bet on that.”

“Well, anyhow, here you are,” said the ambassador, “and I promise that you shall remain with me until I see the emperor in Vienna, if I have to drug you.  After that, I promise you safe conduct to the Italian border.  Come, why not be sensible?”

But Chester was in no mood to be sensible, and there is little wonder.  Twice he had almost regained his liberty, and a third time, after he had come to the assistance of the ambassador, he felt certain he would be set free.  He was far from cheerful now.

“We are now in Austria,” said the ambassador, an hour later.

“It won’t be so long before it will be Italy, I guess,” said Chester, with something like a sneer in his voice.

“Come, come, my friend,” said the ambassador.  “Don’t let your feelings run away with you.  You are simply talking to hear yourself talk.”

“Don’t you believe it,” declared Chester.  “I know what I am talking about.  Say!  You fellows don’t think you can whip the world, do you?”

“Well, we seem to have been whipping a pretty good part of it,” replied the ambassador sententiously.

“That’s it!  That’s it!” cried Chester.  “That’s your Teutonic air of conquerors.  Don’t forget that some of these days, however, you will be sorry for all this trouble and bloodshed you have caused.”

“We have caused?” echoed the ambassador.  “You mean that England has caused.”