lives?"

"Just what they're worth," said I.

"And for the King's throne? Do you think that the nobles and the people
will enjoy being fooled as you've fooled them? Do you think they'll love
a King who was too drunk to be crowned, and sent a servant to personate
him?"

"He was drugged--and I'm no servant."

"Mine will be Black Michael's version."

He rose, came to me, and laid his hand on my shoulder.

"Lad," he said, "if you play the man, you may save the King yet. Go back
and keep his throne warm for him."

"But the duke knows--the villains he has employed know--"

"Ay, but they can't speak!" roared Sapt in grim triumph.

"We've got 'em! How can they denounce you without denouncing themselves?
This is not the King, because we kidnapped the King and murdered his
servant. Can they say that?"

The position flashed on me. Whether Michael knew me or not, he could not
speak. Unless he produced the King, what could he do? And if he produced
the King, where was he? For a moment I was carried away headlong; but in
an instant the difficulties came strong upon me.