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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"The Puppet Crown"

The
students dispersed like leaves in the wind--all save one. He
rose to his feet, his hands covering his jaw and a dazed
expression in his eyes. He saw Maurice with the revolver, the
cuirassiers with their sabers, and the remnant of his army
flying to cover, and he decided to follow their example. The
scene had changed somewhat since he last saw it. He slunk off at
a zigzag trot.
One of the cuirassiers dismounted, his face red from his
exertions.
"Eh?" closely scanning Maurice's white face. "Well, well! is it
you, Monsieur Carewe?"
"Lieutenant von Mitter?" cried Maurice, dropping the dog, who by
now had grasped the meaning of it all. "You came just in time!"
They shook hands.
"I'll lay odds that you put up a good fight," the Lieutenant
said, pleasantly. "Curse these students! If I had my way I'd
coop them all up in their pest-hole of a university and blow
them into eternity."
"And how did the dog come in this part of the town?" asked
Maurice, picking up his hat.
"He was with her Royal Highness. This is charity afternoon. She
drives about giving alms to the poor, and when she enters a
house the dog stands at the entrance to await her return.


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