He was glad that von Arnheim had come.  He was sure that Julie did not love him and never would, but he was a brave and honest man who would do no wrong.  Julie was safer from insult with him near.  To the rank of Prince Karl of Auersperg he could oppose a rank the equal of his own.

He was too far away to hear their words or even to note their faces, but he saw the young prince talk with her for a little space and then go into the castle, doubtless to notify Auersperg of his arrival.  Julie as her eyes roved about the great panorama of mountain and valley saw John, and the wireless messages of their eyes passed and repassed again.

“I know that you are watching and risking your life for me,” hers said.

“Gladly,” his replied.

“I like Prince Wilhelm von Arnheim, but it’s liking, not love.”

“I wish to believe it and do.”

Then the little waves of air were stilled, as she went back into the castle, doubtless because she feared to arouse suspicion, and John returned to his work with Walther, convinced that he must form some plan now.  Von Arnheim must merely be the vanguard of the council, and Julie might be sent away earlier than Ilse had announced.  He must contrive a way to follow.

That night he lurked once more in the shrubbery.  He had been there nearly every night, hopeful that Suzanne would pass again, but not until tonight did she come.  The tall figure, swathed almost to the eyes in a heavy cloak, came down the terrace to the walk, and John whistled low a note of a French folksong.  He had merely hoped that she would stop a moment or two to listen, and the little device succeeded.  She paused and looked at the black mass of the shrubbery.

“Suzanne!  Suzanne!” called John, his voice showing all the intenseness of his anxiety.

“Monsieur Scott,” she said in a loud whisper.

“Yes, Suzanne, here behind the bushes!  I must have word with you!”

Silently she stepped into the impenetrable shadows and John eagerly seized her hand.

“Your mistress, Mademoiselle Julie,” he whispered eagerly, “she does not break down with the suspense and anxiety?  She still hopes?”

“You need not fear for her courage, Monsieur Scott.  Did I not tell you that she had a heart of steel, even the same as that of her great brother.  I should not tell it to you, but she has never despaired since you came.”

John’s fingers closed convulsively upon the large muscular hand of Suzanne and in the darkness the woman’s grim face relaxed into a smile.

“You are holding my hand not that of Mademoiselle Julie,” she said.

“Your words bring me such joy, Suzanne, that I forgot, but I must speak to your mistress.”

“You cannot.  It is impossible.  She is watched more closely than ever.”

“But there is news that she must know!  Then you must tell it to her!”

“What news?  You surely don’t mean that they will try her on this ridiculous charge of being a spy!”