long in deciding whether she would make or unmake a king.
"The gardens!" she cried. "Then let us look for him. Oh, you've let him walk in the gardens alone?"
"What should harm the fellow?" muttered Sapt.
She did not hear him, for she had swept out of the room. Helga went with her, and we all followed, Sapt behind the rest of us, still very surly. I heard him grumbling away as we ran downstairs and, having passed along the great corridor, came to the small saloon that opened on the gardens. There were no servants about, but we encountered a night-watchman, and Bernenstein snatched the lantern from the astonished man's hand.
Save for the dim light thus furnished, the room was dark. But outside the windows the moon streamed brightly down on the broad gravel walk, on the formal flowerbeds, and the great trees in the gardens. The Queen made straight for the window. I followed her, and, having flung the window open, stood by her. The air was sweet, and the breeze struck with grateful coolness on my face. I saw that Sapt had come near and stood on the other side of the Queen. My wife and the rest were behind, looking out where our shoulders left space.
There, in the bright moonlight, on the far
