6 THE ACORN The White Stars "Well, here we are," exclaimed Mrs. Clairborne, alighting from the train at "the Baths," "and, look, there is that handsome French Count again. He seems to be everywhere we are." "I think, Miriane, he is in love with you, and that keeps him near us. Oh, wouldn't it be splendid if we could have a title in the family." Langdon looked and scowled with displeasure, for besides being the third member of the party, he was very much in love with Miriane, and Miriane-well she liked Langdon. The Claibornes had been traveling through Europe and had just arrived at "the Baths," where they intended to rest from the fatigue of travel and sightseeing. Mrs. Claiborne and Miriane Claiborne were the wife and daughter of an American capitalist. Jack Langdon was a young American, well supplied with the worldly goods. His presence in the party has already been accounted for. They had first seen the Count in Paris, that Mecca of the rich American, and Mamma Claiborne noticed with unconcealed triumph with what care he thrust himself so frequently in their presence and to her imaginative mind he was only awaiting the opportunity of persuading her pretty daughter to share his title. The evening after the arrival the Claibornes and Langdon decided to attend the ball. The merriment was in progress when they reached the hall, and Miriane and Langdon were soon gliding to the strains of an entransing Strass waltz. Yes, sure enough, there was the Count. During the progress of the evening the Count, among others, was introduced to Miriane and her mother, much to the discomfort of Langdon. Intimacy grew up between the Count and "Mamma" so rapidly that before the dance ended Mr. Langdon, with Miriane to1 be sure, had promised to visit the Castle Friedelberg on Lake Kochelon, the border line between Southern Germany and France. Langdon was not slighted in the invitation. Mrs. Claiborne was in raptures over the proposed visit. Now, to her, the coveted title seemed insured. At last the great day arrived. The castle was all agog with excitement. Prominent people were there from far and near; merriment reigned supreme. Even Langdon aroused himself from his stupor and seemed at least to partake of the environment and enjoy himself. He reasoned, and it was good logic too, that if he had to lose Miriane, as THE ACORN 7 indications foreshadowed, he ought to act like a man and not mope like some surly youngster. The treatment and attention of the royal host to Langdon was extraordinarily elaborate. Of all his guests he seemed partial to his rival. Indeed, could he not afford to be partial. His success was sure, he had the approval of that authority, called Mother. What more was needed? And his treatment of Langdon could make no material difference. One evening at dinner the Count told his guests the story of his castle how in time of war it had been used both as a fortress and a prison. Even now in some of the dungeons there were skeletons still in their irons. Such stories aroused the curiosity of our American friend and as a consequence he asked to be shown some of the strange places. The Count readily consented of course, he would do anything to please or oblige his guest. No one else cared for such exploits, so the rivals went alone. One dungeon was visited after another and the wierd stories verified. One more remained, the Dungeon of the White Stars. This had been built by the Count's great-grandfather, in which to dispose of his bitterest political enemies. The cell was circular in shape, with walls made of solid rock; the roof consisted of a platform upon which was placed immense rocks. Twenty white stars were arranged in a row on the wall. "After being put in this dungeon, the prisoner had one chance in twenty to escape," explained the Count, "one of the stars, if pressed, will open the door. But if any except the right one be touched the great mass of rocks will crash down, crushing everything under its enormous weight." "Was anyone ever killed in?" Langdon turned to his friend, but did not finish his question, for he saw only the bare wall and the closed door. The merriment in the dining room was little interrupted by the reappearance of the host. He said Langdon was still exploring the dungeons and quietly took his seat at the table. Everything continued as before until suddenly all eyes were turned toward the door. There stood the cause of the interruption pale as death, hair as white as snow, it was haunting in the extreme. Women fainted, men fearfully kept their seats. Trembling with rage, the fearful visitor slowly and cautiously approached the Count. He seemingly without effort, hurled the defenseless host to the floor, and there left him limp and motionless.