The note of appeal in her voice and the sorrow in her eyes gave Barney Custer a twinge of compunction.  The necessity for longer concealing his identity in so far as the salvation of Lutha was concerned seemed past; but the American had intended to carry the deception to the end.

He had given the matter much thought, but he could find no grounds for belief that Emma von der Tann would be any happier in the knowledge that her future husband had had nothing to do with the victory of his army.  If she was doomed to a life at his side, why not permit her the grain of comfort that she might derive from the memory of her husband’s achievements upon the battlefield of Lustadt?  Why rob her of that little?

But now, face to face with her, and with the evidence of her suffering so plain before him, Barney’s intentions wavered.  Like most fighting men, he was tender in his dealings with women.  And now the last straw came in the form of a single tiny tear that trickled down the girl’s cheek.  He seized the hand that lay upon his arm.

“Your highness,” he said, “do not grieve for the American.  He is not worth it.  He has deceived you.  He is not at Blentz.”

The girl drew her hand from his and straightened to her full height.

“What do you mean, sire?” she exclaimed.  “Mr. Custer would not deceive me even if he had an opportunity—­which he has not had.  But if he is not at Blentz, where is he?”

Barney bowed his head and looked at the floor.

“He is here, your highness, asking your forgiveness,” he said.

There was a puzzled expression upon the girl’s face as she looked at the man before her.  She did not understand.  Why should she?  Barney drew a diamond ring from his little finger and held it out to her.

“You gave it to me to cut a hole in the window of the garage where I stole the automobile,” he said.  “I forgot to return it.  Now do you know who I am?”

Emma von der Tann’s eyes showed her incredulity; then, act by act, she recalled all that this man had said and done since they had escaped from Blentz that had been so unlike the king she knew.

“When did you assume the king’s identity?” she asked.

Barney told her all that had transpired in the king’s apartments at Blentz before she had been conducted to the king’s presence.

“And Leopold is there now?” she asked.

“He is there,” replied Barney, “and he is to be shot in the morning.”

“Gott!” exclaimed the girl.  “What are we to do?”

“There is but one thing to do,” replied the American, “and that is for Butzow and me to ride to Blentz as fast as horses will carry us and rescue the king.”

“And then?” asked the girl, a shadow crossing her face.

“And then Barney Custer will have to beat it for the boundary,” he replied with a sorry smile.

She came quite close to him, laying her hands upon his shoulders.