Entering the city by the eastern gate, Ellerey crossed the Konigplatz
at walking pace on his way to his lodging by the Western Gate. They
were a pleasure-loving people in Sturatzberg, working as little as
possible, and spending without a thought of the morrow. The cafes were
full to-night, the laughter sounded genuine enough, and there was
little indication of the coming storm of revolution so confidently
predicted by De Froilette. Ellerey's mind was busy with the events of
the afternoon. For two years he had been in Sturatzberg, ready to seize
the opportunity of distinguishing himself whenever it arose. It had
not come yet. His life had been passed on a dead level of inactivity,
and the stirring times he had hoped for seemed as far away as ever.
Many a time had his thoughts gone back to that breezy morning on the
downs, and he devoutly wished that Princess Maritza would come to
Sturatzberg, so that he might go to her, claim friendship with her,
and ask for that work for his good right arm which she had promised
to give. Who was this De Froilette, and why should he take an interest
in him or wish to help him? For such favors there was always a price
to be paid in some form or other. Would it be wise to go to the
Altstrasse? And another question came to him, a question that set his
pulse beating faster for a moment. Was this De Froilette an emissary
of the Princess Maritza? Might she not be in Sturatzberg now? Might
he not see her to-night? "I would risk anything for that," he said,
as he swung himself from the saddle, "and whatever the adventure is,
so that it has a spice of danger in it, it is welcome. I shall know
how to take care of myself if the price asked be too heavy."

A big, bearded man came forward to take the horse, and the manner in
which he drew the back of his hand across his mouth suggested that he
had left the tankard hastily.