Shoulder-high beside him hung the photogravure that had already saved his life once.  Why not again?  He snatched it from its hangings, lifted it above his head in both hands, and hurled it at the head of the old man.  The glass shattered full upon the ancient’s crown, the man’s head went through the picture, and the frame settled over his shoulders.  At the same instant Barney Custer leaped across the bed, seized a light chair, and turned to face his foe upon more even turns.

The old man did not pause to remove the frame from about his neck.  Blood trickled down his forehead and cheeks from deep gashes that the broken glass had made.  Now he was in a berserker rage.

As he charged again he uttered a peculiar whistling noise from between his set teeth.  To the American it sounded like the hissing of a snake, and as he would have met a snake he met the venomous attack of the old man.

When the short battle was over the Blentz servitor lay unconscious upon the floor, while above him leaned the American, uninjured, ripping long strips from a sheet torn from the bed, twisting them into rope-like strands and, with them, binding the wrists and ankles of his defeated foe.  Finally he stuffed a gag between the toothless gums.

Running to the wardrobe, he discovered that the king’s uniform was gone.  That, with the witness of the empty bed, told him the whole story.  The American smiled.  “More nerve than I gave him credit for,” he mused, as he walked back to his bed and reached under the pillow for the two papers he had forced the king to sign.  They, too, were gone.  Slowly Barney Custer realized his plight, as there filtered through his mind a suggestion of the possibilities of the trick that had been played upon him.

Why should Leopold wish these papers?  Of course, he might merely have taken them that he might destroy them; but something told Barney Custer that such was not the case.  And something, too, told him whither the king had ridden and what he would do there when he arrived.

He ran back to the wardrobe.  In it hung the peasant attire that he had stolen from the line of the careless house frau, and later wished upon his majesty the king.  Barney grinned as he recalled the royal disgust with which Leopold had fingered the soiled garments.  He scarce blamed him.  Looking further toward the back of the wardrobe, the American discovered other clothing.

He dragged it all out upon the floor.  There was an old shooting jacket, several pairs of trousers and breeches, and a hunting coat.  In a drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe he found many old shoes, puttees, and boots.

From this miscellany he selected riding breeches, a pair of boots, and the red hunting coat as the only articles that fitted his rather large frame.  Hastily he dressed, and, taking the ax the old man had brought to the room as the only weapon available, he walked boldly into the corridor, down the spiral stairway and into the guardroom.