He flung open the coach door, and his hat swept the ground once
more. The light of a lantern played fitfully upon his dark, gaunt face,
with its gallant smile and ominous patch. She hesitated, fear entering
her soul once more. He looked up quickly and saw the indecision in her
eyes, the mute appeal.

"Trust me, your highness," he said, gravely, and she allowed him to hand
her into the coach.

A moment later he was upon the driver's box, reins in hand. Calling out
to his companions in a language strange to Beverly, he cracked the whip,
and once more they were lumbering over the wretched road. Beverly sank
back into the seat with a deep sigh of resignation.

"Well, I'm in for it," she thought. "It doesn't matter whether they are
thieves or angels, I reckon I'll have to take what comes. He doesn't
look very much like an angel, but he looked at me just now as if he
thought I were one. Dear me, I wish I were back in Washin'ton!"




CHAPTER V

THE INN OF THE HAWK AND RAVEN


Two of the men walked close beside the door, one of them bearing a
lantern. They conversed in low tones and in a language which Beverly
could not understand. After awhile she found herself analyzing the garb