The great pulse in John’s throat beat heavily and his hand pressed the automatic, but he compressed his lips and said nothing.

“I see that my words anger you,” continued Weber, “but from my point of view I am right.  I serve my overlord!”

“What message were you sending by the wireless from the tower?”

“Doubtless you have guessed it.  I was sending word to the detachment now on the road from Zillenstein to come here for Mademoiselle Lannes, her maid and you.  They’re ahorse, and they should arrive in three hours and you can’t possibly escape.  Before Prince Karl was compelled to leave for the theater of war he put this most important affair in my charge.  He has not yet yielded all hope of Mademoiselle Lannes.”

“It may be true that we can’t escape, but what of yourself, Weber?  We’re alone in the forest and I hold the whip hand.  The score that I owe you is large.  You may have wrecked the life of Mademoiselle Julie and perhaps you will destroy my own, but you said it would be three hours before the detachment arrived, and I need only a few seconds.”

“But I don’t think you’ll fire, Mr. Scott.”

“Why, Weber?”

“Because I fire first!”

Absorbed in the talk John had unconsciously lowered the automatic, and, as agile as a panther, Weber suddenly leaped to one side, snatched a revolver from his own pocket and pulled the trigger.  But the bullet flew wild.  A huge shadow hovered over him and a weight crashed upon his head, smiting him down as if he had been struck by a giant shell.  He sank in the path and lay motionless, dead ere he fell.

John stared, stricken with horror.  The great shadow bent down a moment over the fallen man, then straightened itself up again, and two eyes in which the vengeful fire had not yet died gazed at John.  Then as his dazed mind cleared he saw and knew.  It was Antoine Picard, the gigantic and faithful servitor of the Lannes family.

“Antoine!  Antoine!” cried John.  “How did you come here?  I thought you were in Munich!”

“It seems, your honor, that I’m here at the right moment.  His bullet would certainly have found your heart had not my club descended upon his head at the very instant that his finger touched the trigger.  He’ll never stir again.”

“But Antoine, it’s you, yourself!  It doesn’t seem real that you should be here at such a time!”

“It’s none other than Antoine Picard, your honor, and he never struck a truer or more timely blow.  They were to hold me a prisoner in Munich, but I escaped.  I did not return to France.  I could never desert Mademoiselle Julie, and I followed.  My size drew their attention, but in one way or another I kept down suspicion or escaped them.  I traced Mademoiselle Julie and my daughter to the great castle and then to the lodge on the mountain.  I saw the traitor who lies so justly dead here talking with German troops, and I knew that there was need for me to hasten.  In the night I stole the horse of a Uhlan and galloped to Obenstein.