Peter of Blentz turned toward Maenck.  “The guard!” he cried.  “Arrest those traitors, and restore order in the cathedral.  Let the coronation proceed.”

Maenck took a step toward Barney and Butzow, when old Prince von der Tann interposed his giant frame with grim resolve.

“Hold!” He spoke in a low, stern voice that brought the cowardly Maenck to a sudden halt.

The men of Tann had pressed eagerly forward until they stood, with bared swords, a solid rank of fighting men in grim semicircle behind their chief.  There were cries from different parts of the cathedral of:  “Crown Leopold, our true king!  Down with Peter!  Down with the assassin!”

“Enough of this,” cried Peter.  “Clear the cathedral!”

He drew his own sword, and with half a hundred loyal retainers at his back pressed forward to clear the chancel.  There was a brief fight, from which Barney, much to his disgust, was barred by the mighty figure of the old prince and the stalwart sword-arm of Butzow.  He did get one crack at Maenck, and had the satisfaction of seeing blood spurt from a flesh wound across the fellow’s cheek.

“That for the Princess Emma,” he called to the governor of Blentz, and then men crowded between them and he did not see the captain again during the battle.

When Peter saw that more than half of the palace guard were shouting for Leopold, and fighting side by side with the men of Tann, he realized the futility of further armed resistance at this time.  Slowly he withdrew, and at last the fighting ceased and some semblance of order was restored within the cathedral.

Fearfully, the bishop emerged from hiding, his robes disheveled and his miter askew.  Butzow grasped him none too reverently by the arm and dragged him before Barney.  The crown of Lutha dangled in the priest’s palsied hands.

“Crown the king!” cried the lieutenant.  “Crown Leopold, king of Lutha!”

A mad roar of acclaim greeted this demand, and again from all parts of the cathedral rose the same wild cry.  But in the lull that followed there were some who demanded proof of the tattered young man who stood before them and claimed that he was king.

“Let Prince Ludwig speak!” cried a dozen voices.

“Yes, Prince Ludwig!  Prince Ludwig!” took up the throng.

Prince Ludwig von der Tann turned toward the bearded young man.  Silence fell upon the crowded cathedral.  Peter of Blentz stood awaiting the outcome, ready to demand the crown upon the first indication of wavering belief in the man he knew was not Leopold.

“How may we know that you are really Leopold?” again asked Ludwig of Barney.

The American raised his left hand, upon the third finger of which gleamed the great ruby of the royal ring of the kings of Lutha.  Even Peter of Blentz started back in surprise as his eyes fell upon the ring.

Where had the man come upon it?