was put away or concealed. Also other papers of the greatest value. Without these he would be unable to prove his heirship to the title and estates of the Zaidos family. In case of the boy's death all would go to a distant cousin, Velo Kupenol, who had long made his home with the Count. Zaidos turned to meet this cousin, whom he had not seen for so many years that his existence had been forgotten. He saw a keen, ferret-faced lad, a little older than himself. He took an instant dislike to the boy, and rebuked himself for doing so. Yet the hard eyes looked too steadily into his, with a cold, piercing, deadly look.

"I'm in the way," thought Zaidos, as he turned again to his father. And some sure instinct in his heart cried, "Beware, beware!"

When the dying Count handed the thin packet of precious papers to his son, Zaidos slipped them in the inner pocket of his blouse. At that moment Velo approached the bedside.

"Uncle," he said, "unfortunately my cousin here has been impressed into service. Would it not be well for me to keep these papers? I would guard them with my life, and as I do not intend to fight they would be safe with me in any case."

The Count frowned. "No," he cried. "Velo Kupenol, I have not found you true to your name! You have been here with me for years, and I know you through and through. I have treated you with all patience, have paid your debts, have saved you from disgrace for the sake of the family. I have forgiven you over and over. You have not shown me even the loyalty that a true friend would expect, to say nothing of a relative. If anything happens to my son, unfortunately the estates will be yours; but while he lives, the papers will remain in his possession, to do with as he sees fit. Ah!" he cried, turning to his son, "be worthy of our name, my boy! No Zaidos has ever yet disgraced it. I put my trust in you, and I know you will not fail me. To the day she died, your mother planned great things for her baby boy. She—"

He fixed his eyes on space. A look of surprise and happiness lit his face. Slowly he raised his arms as though in greeting, then sank back, dead.

Zaidos, kneeling, buried his face in the pillow. So it was over, all over! Someone raised him to his feet, as the nurse tenderly drew the sheet over his father's face. He lifted it and with one last lingering look replaced it gently, then left the room.

The clock struck three.

As he sank wearily in a chair, the old nurse entered. Her face was stained with tears. She glanced about, then seized Zaidos by the arm.

"Don't trust Velo!" she whispered, and left his side. None too soon, for Velo entered the room and with a gesture dismissed the old servant.

"Now, Zaidos," he said abruptly, "we will talk. You are crazy to carry such valuables around with you. After we have had breakfast, we will decide where to keep those papers. I am the next in line, as you know, and it is only just that I should know where they are in case you should get in trouble."

Zaidos shook his head. "I shall keep the papers," he said. "Of course you may remain here. I shall always look out for you. I shall not be killed in this fighting; I feel it."

"So have other men," sneered Velo. "How did you get away?"

Zaidos told him.

"Do you mean that you could not get permission, and that you escaped and came anyhow?" he asked, an evil gleam lighting his narrow eyes.

"That's about it," said Zaidos, nodding. "I must go back at once. The doctor's car will take me close to the barracks. I must get there before dawn." He went to the window and looked out. "I have no time to waste!" he cried.

"But look here, if you are caught, it means desertion," said Velo.

"Yes!"

"In war-time that means death," said Velo.

"Yes, but I am not going to be caught," answered Zaidos.

"Then you must hurry," declared his cousin. "Wait here just a moment, and I will see that the car is ready and get a cloak to cover you. I almost fear you have waited too long, cousin," and hurried, from the room with a last sidelong look at Zaidos' bent head.

Five minutes passed; then with a last look at his father's closed door, Zaidos went down and found Velo standing beside the automobile, talking to the chauffeur. Already the intense blackness of the night was lifting. Zaidos felt a chill of apprehension.

"You will have to hurry," said his cousin. "I will come down later and look you up. Hope you get back." He stepped back, and the car shot forward, but only for a short distance. With a queer grinding noise the engine stopped. The driver leaped out and examined it with a flashlight. He uttered an exclamation of dismay.

"Someone has put sand in the engine!" he exclaimed. "Yet I have been in it all night long!"

"You must have left it," said Zaidos. "Or did you go to sleep?"

"Yes, yes!" stammered the driver excitedly. "I was called away just now, when Velo Kupenol sent me to my master to tell him that I was to take you back to barracks. Ah, what shall we do?"

"How far is it?" demanded Zaidos. The night was lifting. He shivered.

"A mile straight down that avenue, Excellency, until you reach the great fountain in the public square. Then a half block to the left. You cannot miss it, but you cannot make it before dawn."

"Good-bye!" called Zaidos. He started down the wide avenue with the gentle, easy stride that had made him the best long-distance runner in school. His wind was perfect and he covered ground like a deer; but clearer and clearer as he raced he could see the grey forms of surrounding objects take shape. He reached the fountain in the public square; he made the turn to the left and slowed to a walk. The sentry, walking slowly, reached the opposite corner, and before Zaidos could reach the open door he turned. It was too late to turn back. Zaidos squared his shoulders and approached. The sentry eyed him sharply and was about to speak but Zaidos said, "Good-morning," with civil ease. The man returned the salutation. Then, "What are you doing here?" he questioned.

"With a letter," said Zaidos, tapping his pocket.

"Where from?" demanded the sentry.

"Over there," said Zaidos, nodding his head in the direction of the avenue. It was a bold shot, but it carried.

"Oh!" said the sentry. "The other barracks, eh? Well, will your errand wait, or must I wake them up within?"

"There is no hurry at all," said Zaidos, easily. "I must see the commanding officer by seven o'clock, that's all."

"Very well," said the man. "I'll take you in then. I'm tired enough myself tramping up and down here all night. That place is full of recruits, and a lot of them are unwilling ones, I can tell you. But they are under lock and key. They can't escape. All the air they get even is from that crack in the door. A fly couldn't get out there." He was a fat sentry, and he laughed. Zaidos joined his mirth.

"Perhaps a thin fly might," he said.

The man shrugged. "Perhaps!" he said. "Those recruits are raw, I can tell you. You can be glad you are a trained soldier. I could tell it by your walk, even in this dim light. The walk always tells."

Zaidos nodded and squatted down near the open door. Moment by moment his danger was growing. The sentry turned and sauntered to the end of the block. Zaidos counted slowly. Once the man turned and nodded in a friendly fashion, then resumed his slow pace. Sixty steps. He stood for a moment on the corner, then came back. "Not long now," he said, and smiled. Then he passed in the other direction. Eighty steps that way. Zaidos counted. Again the man returned. Zaidos could feel his muscles stiffening, as if about to spring. He cautiously shifted to a position still nearer the partly open door and measured the opening. He felt heavy and awkward. He studied the dark opening. It did indeed look very narrow. He had squirmed through it without much trouble, but that was in the densest darkness, and he had taken all the time he needed. Now if the