Her first act after awakening and untangling the meshes in her throbbing, uncomprehending brain, was to send for Quinnox.  She could scarcely wait for his appearance and the assurance that Lorry was safely out of danger.  The footman who had been sent to fetch the captain was a long time in returning.  She was dressed in her breakfast gown long before he came in with the report that the captain was nowhere to be found.  Her heart gave a great throb of joy.  She alone could explain his absence.  To her it meant but one thing:  Lorry’s flight from the castle.  Where else could Quinnox be except with the fugitive, perhaps once more inside St. Valentine’s?  With the great load of suspense off her mind she cared not for the trials that still confronted her on that dreaded morning.  She had saved him, and she was willing to pay the price.

Preparations began at once for the eventful transaction in the throne room.  The splendor of two Courts was to shine in rivalry.  Ten o’clock was the hour set for the meeting of the two rulers, the victor and the victim.  Her nobles and her ladies, her ministers, her guards and her lackeys moved about in the halls, dreading the hour, brushing against the hated Axphain guests.  In one of the small waiting rooms sat the Count and Countess Halfont, the latter in tears.  The young Countess Dagmar stood at a window with Harry Anguish.  The latter was flushed and nervous and acted like a man who expects that which is unexpected by others.  With a strange confidence in his voice, he sought to cheer his depressed friends, but the cheerfulness was not contagious.  The sombreness of a burial hung over the castle.

Half an hour before the time set for the meeting in the throne room Yetive sent for her uncle, her aunt and Dagmar.  As Anguish and the latter followed the girl turned her sad, puzzled eyes up to the face of the tall American and asked: 

“Are you rejoicing over our misfortune?  You do not show a particle of regret.  Do you forget that we are sacrificing a great deal to save the life of your friend?  I do not understand how you can be so heartless.”

“If you knew what I know you’d jump so high you could crack those pretty heels of yours together ten times before you touched the floor again,” said he, warmly.

“Please tell me,” she cried.  “I knew there was something.”

“But I am afraid so high a jump would upset you for the day.  You must wait awhile, Dagmar.”  It was the first time he had called her Dagmar, and she looked startled.

“I am not used to waiting,” she said, confusedly.

“I think I can explain satisfactorily when I have more time,” he said, softly in her ear, and, although she tried, she could find no words to continue.  He left her at the head of the stairs, and did not see her again until she passed him in the throne room.  Then she was pale and brave and trembling.