The King's Jackal

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THE KING'S JACKAL

BY

RICHARD HARDING DAVIS

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CONTENTS

I

The private terrace of the Hotel Grand Bretagne, at Tangier, was shadedby a great awning of red and green and yellow, and strewn with coloredmats, and plants in pots, and wicker chairs. It reached out from theKings apartments into the Garden of Palms, and was hidden by them ontwo sides, and showed from the third the blue waters of theMediterranean and the great shadow of Gibraltar in the distance.

The Sultan of Morocco had given orders from Fez that the King ofMessina, in spite of his incognito, should be treated during his stayin Tangier with the consideration due to his rank, so one-half of theHotel Grand Bretagne had been set aside for him and his suite, and twosoldiers of the Bashaw's Guard sat outside of his door with drawnswords. They were answerable with their heads for the life and safetyof the Sultan's guest, and as they could speak no language but theirown, they made a visit to his Majesty more a matter of adventure thanof etiquette.

Niccolas, the King's majordomo, stepped out upon the terrace and sweptthe Mediterranean with a field-glass for the third time since sunrise.He lowered it, and turned doubtfully toward the two soldiers.

"The boat from Gibraltar—has she arrived yet?" he asked.

The two ebony figures shook their heads stiffly, as though theyresented this introduction of a foreign language, and continued toshake their heads as the servant addressed the same question to them ina succession of strange tongues.

"Well," said Colonel Erhaupt, briskly, as he followed Niccolas out uponthe terrace, "has the boat arrived? And the launch from the yacht," hecontinued, "has it started for shore yet?"

The man pointed to where the yacht lay, a mile outside the harbor, andhanded him the glass.

"It is but just now leaving the ship's side," he said. "But I cannotmake out who comes in her. Ah, pardon," he added quickly, as hepointed to a stout elderly gentleman who walked rapidly toward themthrough the garden. "The Gibraltar boat must be in, sir. Here isBaron Barrat coming up the path."

Colonel Erhaupt gave an exclamation of satisfaction, and waved his handto the newcomer in welcome.

"Go tell his Majesty," he said to the servant.

The man hesitated and bowed. "His Majesty still sleeps."

"Wake him," commanded Erhaupt. "Tell him I said to do so. Well,Baron," he cried, gayly, as he stepped forward, "welcome—or are youwelcome?" he added, with an uneasy laugh.

"I should be. I have succeeded," the other replied gruffly, as hebrushed past him. "Where is the King?"

"He will be here in a moment. I have sent to wake him. And you havebeen successful? Good. I congratulate you. How far successful?"

The Baron threw himself into one of the wicker chairs, and clapped hishands impatiently for a servant. "Twelve thousand pounds in all," hereplied. "That's more than he expected. It was like pulling teeth atfirst. I want some coffee at once," he said to the attendant, "and abath. That boat reeked with Moors and cattle, and there was nowagon-lit on the train from Madrid. I sat up all night, and playedcards with that young Cellini. Have Madame Zara and Kalonay returned?I see the yacht in the harbor. Did she succeed?"

"We do not know; the boat only arrived at daybreak. They are probablyon the launch that is coming in now."

As Barrat sipped his coffee and munched his rolls with the silentenergy of a hungry man, the Colonel turned and strode up and down theterrace, pulling at his mustache and glancing sideways. When the Baronhad lighted a cigarette and thrown himself back in his chair, Erhaupthalted and surveyed him in some anxiety.

"You have been gone over two weeks," he said. "I should like to seeyou accomplish as much in as short a time," growled the other. "Youknow Paris. You know how hard it is to get people to be serious there.I had the devil's own time at first. You got my cablegram?"

"Yes; it wasn't encouraging."

"Well, I wasn't hopeful myself. They wouldn't believe a word of it atfirst. They said Louis hadn't shown such great love for his country orhis people since his exile that they could feel any confidence in him,and that his conduct in the last six years did not warrant theirjoining any undertaking in which he was concerned. You can't blamethem. They've backed him so many times already, and they've beenbitten, and they're shy, naturally. But I swore he was repentant, thathe saw the error of his ways, that he wanted to sit once more before hedied on the throne of his ancestors, and that he felt it was due to hisson that he should make an effort to get him back his birthright. Itwas the son won them. `Exhibit A' I call him. None of them would hearof it until I spoke of the Prince. So when I saw that, I told them hewas a fine little chap, healthy and manly and brave, and devoted to hispriest, and all that rot, and they began to listen. At first theywanted his Majesty to abdicate, and give the boy a clear road to thecrown, but of course I hushed that up. I told them we were actingadvisedly, that we had reason to know that the common people of Messinawere sick of the Republic, and wanted their King; that Louis loved thecommon people like a father; that he would re-establish the Church inall her power, and that Father Paul was working day and night for us,and that the Vatican was behind us. Then I dealt out decorations and afew titles, which Louis has made smell so confoundedly rank to Heaventhat nobody would take them. It was like a game. I played one noblegentleman against another, and gave this one a portrait of the King oneday, and the other a miniature of `Exhibit A' the next and they grewjealous, and met together, and talked it over, and finally unlockedtheir pockets. They contributed about L9,000 between them. Then theenthusiasm spread to the women, and they gave me their jewels, and alot of youngsters volunteered for the expedition, and six of them cameon with me in the train last night. I won two thousand francs fromthat boy Cellini on the way down. They're all staying at theContinental. I promised them an audience this morning."

"Good," commented the Colonel, "good—L9,000. I suppose you took outyour commission in advance?"

"I took out nothing," returned the other, angrily. "I brought it allwith me, and I have a letter from each of them stating just what he orshe subscribed toward the expedition,—the Duke Dantiz, so much; theDuke D'Orvay, 50,000 francs; the Countess Mattini, a diamond necklace.It is all quite regular. I played fair." The Colonel had stopped inhis walk, and had been peering eagerly down the leafy path through thegarden. "Is that not Zara coming now?" he asked. "Look, your eyes arebetter than mine."

Barrat rose quickly, and the two men walked forward, and bowed withthe easy courtesy of old comrades to a tall, fair girl who camehurriedly up the steps. The Countess Zara was a young woman, but onewho had stood so long on guard against the world, that the strain hadtold, and her eyes were hard and untrustful, so that she looked mucholder than she really was. Her life was of two parts. There waslittle to be told of the first part; she was an English girl who hadcome from a manufacturing town to study art and live alone in Paris,where she had been too indolent to work, and too brilliant to remainlong without companions eager for her society. Through them and thestories of her wit and her beauty, she had come to know the King ofMessina, and with that meeting the second part of her life began; forshe had found something so attractive, either in his title or in thecynical humor of the man himself, that for the last two years she hadfollowed his fortunes, and Miss Muriel Winter, art student, had becomethe Countess Zara, and an uncrowned queen. She was beautiful, withgreat masses of yellow hair and wonderful brown eyes. Her manner whenshe spoke seemed to show that she despised the world and those in italmost as thoroughly as she despised herself.

On the morning of her return from Messina, she wore a blue sergeyachting suit with a golf cloak hanging from her shoulders, and as shecrossed the terrace she pulled nervously at her gloves and held out herhand covered with jewels to each of the two men.

"I bring good news," she said, with an excited laugh. "Where is Louis?"

"I will tell his Majesty that you have come. You are most welcome,"the Baron answered.

But as he turned to the door it opened from the inside and the kingcame toward them, shivering and blinking his eyes in the brightsunlight. It showed the wrinkles and creases around his mouth and theblue veins under the mottled skin, and the tiny lines at the corners ofhis little bloodshot eyes that marked the pace at which he had lived astruthfully as the rings on a tree-trunk tell of its quiet growth.

He caught up his long dressing-gown across his chest as though it werea mantle, and with a quick glance to see that there were no otherwitnesses to his deshabille, bent and kissed the woman's hand, andtaking it in his own stroked it gently.

"My dear Marie," he lisped, "it is like heaven to have you back with usagain. We have felt your absence every hour. Pray be seated, andpardon my robe. I saw you through the blinds and could not wait. Tellus the glorious news. The Baron's good words I have already overheard;I listened to them with great entertainment while I was dressing. Ihoped he would say something discourteous or foolish, but he was quitediscreet until he told Erhaupt that he had kept back none of the money.Then I lost interest. Fiction is never so entertaining to me as thetruth and real people. But tell us now of your mission and of all youdid; and whether successful or not, be assured you are most welcome."

The Countess Zara smiled at him doubtfully and crossed her hands in herlap, glancing anxiously over her shoulder.

"I must be very brief, for Kalonay and Father Paul are close behindme," she said. "They only stopped for a moment at the custom-house.Keep watch, Baron, and tell me when you see them coming."

Barrat moved his chair so that it faced the garden-path, the Kingcrossed his legs comfortably and wrapped his padded dressing-robecloser around his slight figure, and Erhaupt stood leaning on the backof his chair with his eyes fixed on the fine insolent beauty of thewoman before them.

She nodded her head toward the soldiers who sat at the entrance to theterrace, as silent and immovable as blind beggars before a mosque. "Dothey understand?" she asked.

"No," the King assured her. "They understand nothing, but that theyare to keep people away from me—and they do it very well. I wish Icould import them to Paris to help Niccolas fight off creditors.Continue, we are most impatient."

"We left here last Sunday night, as you know," she said. "We passedAlgiers the next morning and arrived off the island at mid-day,anchoring outside in the harbor. We flew the Royal Yacht Squadron'spennant, and an owner's private signal that we invented on the waydown. They sent me ashore in a boat, and Kalonay and Father Paulcontinued on along the southern shore, where they have been makingspeeches in all the coast-towns and exciting the people in favor of therevolution. I heard of them often while I was at the capital, but notfrom them. The President sent a company of carbineers to arrest themthe very night they returned and smuggled me on board the yacht again.We put off as soon as I came over the side and sailed directly here.

"As soon as I landed on Tuesday I went to the Hotel de Messina, andsent my card to the President. He is that man Palaccio, thehotel-keeper's son, the man you sent out of the country for writingpamphlets against the monarchy, and who lived in Sicily during hisexile. He gave me an audience at once, and I told my story. As heknew who I was, I explained that I had quarrelled with you, and that Iwas now prepared to sell him the secrets of an expedition which youwere fitting out with the object of re-establishing yourself on thethrone. He wouldn't believe that there was any such expedition, andsaid it was blackmail, and threatened to give me to the police if I didnot leave the island in twenty-four hours—he was exceedingly rude. SoI showed him receipts for ammunition and rifles and Maxim guns, andcopies of the oath of allegiance to the expedition, and papers of theyacht, in which she was described as an armored cruiser, and he rapidlygrew polite, even humble, and I made him apologize first, and then takeme out to luncheon. That was the first day. The second day telegramsbegan to come in from the coast-towns, saying that the Prince Kalonayand Father Paul were preaching and exciting the people to rebellion,and travelling from town to town in a man-of-war. Then he wasfrightened. The Prince with his popularity in the south was alarmingenough, but the Prince and Father Superior to help him seemed to meanthe end of the Republic.

"I learned while I was down there that the people think the father putsome sort of a ban on every one who had anything to do with driving theDominican monks out of the island and with the destruction of themonasteries. I don't know whether he did or not, but they believe hedid, which is the same thing, and that superstitious little beast, thePresident, certainly believed it; he attributed everything that hadgone wrong on the island to that cause. Why, if a second cousin of thewife of a brother of one of the men who helped to fire a church fallsoff his horse and breaks his leg they say that he is under the curse ofthe Father Superior, and there are many who believe the Republic willnever succeed until Paul returns and the Church is re-established. TheGovernment seems to have kept itself well informed about your Majesty'smovements, and it has never felt any anxiety that you would attempt toreturn, and it did not fear the Church party because it knew thatwithout you the priests could do nothing. But when Paul, whom thecommon people look upon as a living saint and martyr, returned hand inhand with your man Friday, they were in a panic and felt sure the endhad come. So the President called a hasty meeting of his Cabinet. Andsuch a Cabinet! I wish you could have seen them, Louis, with me in thecentre playing on them like an advocate before a jury. They were themost dreadful men I ever met, bourgeois and stupid and ugly to adegree. Two of them were commission-merchants, and one of them is oldDr. Gustavanni, who kept the chemist's shop in the Piazza Royale. Theywere quite silly with fear, and they begged me to tell them how theycould avert the fall of the Republic and prevent your landing. And Isaid that it was entirely a question of money; that if we were paidsufficiently the expedition would not land and we would leave them inpeace, but that——"

The King shifted his legs uneasily, and coughed behind his thin, pinkfingers.

"That was rather indiscreet, was it not, Marie?" he murmured. "Theidea was to make them think that I, at least, was sincere; was not thatit? To make it appear that though there were traitors in his camp, theKing was in most desperate earnest? If they believe that, you see, itwill allow me to raise another expedition as soon as the money we getfor this one is gone; but if you have let them know that I am the onewho is selling out, you have killed the goose that lays the goldeneggs. They will never believe us when we cry wolf again——"

"You must let me finish," Zara interrupted. "I did not involve you inthe least. I said that there were traitors in the camp of whom I wasthe envoy, and that if they would pay us 300,000 francs we wouldpromise to allow the expedition only to leave the yacht. Their troopscould then make a show of attacking our landing-party and we wouldraise the cry of `treachery' and retreat to the boats. By this wewould accomplish two things,—we would satisfy those who, hadcontributed funds toward the expedition that we had at least made anhonest effort, and your Majesty would be discouraged by such treacheryfrom ever attempting another attack. The money was to be paid twoweeks later in Paris, to me or to whoever brings this ring that I wear.The plan we finally agreed upon is this: The yacht is to anchor offBasnai next Thursday night. At high tide, which is just aboutdaybreak, we are to lower our boats and land our men on that long beachto the south of the break-water. The troops of the Republic are to liehidden in the rocks until our men have formed. Then they are to fireover their heads, and we are to retreat in great confusion, return tothe yacht, and sail away. Two weeks later they are to pay the moneyinto my hands, or," she added, with a smile, as she held up her fourthfinger, "to whoever brings this ring. And I need not say that the ringwill not leave my finger."

There was a moment's pause, as though the men were waiting to learn ifshe had more to tell, and then the King threw back his head and laughedsoftly. He saw Erhaupt's face above his shoulder, filled with theamazement and indignation of a man who as a duellist and as a soldierhad shown a certain brute courage, and the King laughed again.

"What do you think of that, Colonel?" he cried, gayly. "They are anoble race, my late subjects."

"Bah!" exclaimed the German. "I didn't know we were dealing with ahome for old women."

The Baron laughed comfortably. "It is like taking money from a blindbeggar's hat," he said.

"Why, with two hundred men that I could pick up in London," Erhauptdeclared, contemptuously, "I would guarantee to put you on the thronein a fortnight."

"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed his Majesty. "So they surrendered asquickly as that, did they?" he asked, nodding toward Madame Zara tocontinue.

The Countess glanced again over her shoulder and bit her lips in somechagrin. Her eyes showed her disappointment. "It may seem an easyvictory to you," she said, consciously, "but I doubt, knowing all thecircumstances, if any of your Majesty's gentlemen could have served youas well. It needed a woman and——"

"It needed a beautiful woman," interrupted the King, quickly, in a tonethat he would have used to a spoiled child. "It needed a woman oftact, a woman of courage, a woman among women—the Countess Zara. Donot imagine, Marie, that we undervalue your part. It is their lack ofcourage that distresses Colonel Erhaupt."

"One of them, it is true, did wish to fight," the Countess continued,with a smile; "a Frenchman named Renauld, whom they have put in chargeof the army. He scoffed at the whole expedition, but they told himthat a foreigner could not understand as they did the danger of thepopularity of the Prince Kolonay, who, by a speech or two among theshepherds and fishermen, could raise an army."

The King snapped his fingers impatiently.

"An army of brigands and smugglers!" he exclaimed. "That for hispopularity!" But he instantly raised his hands as though in protest athis own warmth of speech and in apology for his outbreak.

"His zeal will ruin us in time. He is deucedly in the way," hecontinued, in his usual tone of easy cynicism. "We should have let himinto our plans from the first, and then if he chose to take no part inthem we would at least have had a free hand. As it is now, we havethree different people to deceive: this Cabinet of shopkeepers, whichseems easy enough; Father Paul and his fanatics of the Church party;and this apostle of the divine right of kings, Kalonay. And he and thegood father are not fools——"

At these words Madame Zara glanced again toward the garden, and thistime with such evident uneasiness in her face that Barrat eyed her withquick suspicion.

"What is it?" he asked, sharply. "There is something you have not toldus."

The woman looked at the King, and he nodded his head as though inassent. "I had to tell them who else was in the plot besides myself,"she said, speaking rapidly. "I had to give them the name of some manwho they knew would be able to do what I have promised we could do—whocould put a stop to the revolution. The name I gave washis—Kalonay's."

Barrat threw himself forward in his chair.

"Kalonay's?" he cried, incredulously.

"Kalonay's?" echoed Erhaupt. "What madness, Madame! Why name the onlyone who is sincere?"

"She will explain," said the King, in an uneasy voice; "let herexplain. She has acted according to my orders and for the best, but Iconfess I——"

"Some one had to be sacrificed," returned the woman, boldly, "and whynot he? Indeed, if we wish to save ourselves, there is every reasonthat it should be he. You know how mad he is for the King's return,how he himself wishes to get back to the island and to his old positionthere. Why, God only knows, but it is so. What pleasure he finds in aland of mists and fogs, in a ruined castle with poachers and smugglingfishermen for companions, I cannot comprehend. But the fact remains,he always speaks of it as home and he wishes to return. And now,suppose he learns the truth, as he may at any moment, and discoversthat the whole expedition for which he is staking his soul and life isa trick, a farce; that we use it only as a bait to draw money from theold nobility, and to frighten the Republic into paying us to leave themin peace? How do we know what he might not do? He may tell the wholeof Europe. He may turn on you and expose you, and then what have weleft? It is your last chance. It is our last chance. We have triedeverything else, and we cannot show ourselves in Europe, at least notwithout money in our hands. But by naming Kalonay I have managed it sothat we have only to show the written agreement I have made with theRepublic and he is silenced. In it they have promised to pay thePrince Kalonay, naming him in full, 300,000 francs if the expedition iswithdrawn. That agreement is in my hands, and that is our answer towhatever he may think or say. Our word is as good as his, or as bad;we are all of the same party as far as Europe cares, and it becomes afalling out among thieves, and we are equal."

Baron Barrat leaned forward and marked each word with a movement of hishand.

"Do I understand you to say," he asked, "that you have a paper signedby the Republic agreeing to pay 300,000 francs to Kalonay? Then howare we to get it?" he demanded, incredulously. "From him?"

"It is made payable to him," continued the woman, "or to whoever bringsthis ring I wear to the banking-house of the Schlevingens two weeksafter the expedition has left the island. I explained that clause tothem by saying that Kalonay and I were working together against theKing, and as he might be suspicious if we were both to leave him sosoon after the failure of the expedition we would be satisfied if theygave the money to whichever one first presented the ring. Suppose Ihad said," she went on, turning to the King, "that it was either Barrator the Colonel here who had turned traitor. They know the Baron ofold, when he was Chamberlain and ran your roulette wheel at the palace.They know he is not the man to turn back an expedition. And theColonel, if he will pardon me, has sold his services so often to oneside or another that it would have been difficult to make them believethat this time he is sincere. But Kalonay, the man they fear most nextto your Majesty—to have him turn traitor, why, that was a masterstroke. Even those boors, stupid as they are, saw that. When theymade out the agreement they put down all his titles, and laughed asthey wrote them in. `Prince Judas' they called him, and they were inecstasies at the idea of the aristocrat suing for blood-money againsthis sovereign, of the man they feared showing himself to be only acommon blackmailer. It delighted them to find a prince royal sunklower than themselves, this man who has treated them like curs—likethe curs they are," she broke out suddenly—"like the curs they are!"

She rose and laughed uneasily as though at her own vehemence.

"I am tired," she said, avoiding the King's eyes; "the trip has tiredme. If you will excuse me, I will go to my rooms—through yourhall-way, if I may."

"Most certainly," said the King. "I trust you will be rested bydinner-time. Au revoir, my fair ambassadrice."

The woman nodded and smiled back at him brightly, and Louis continuedto look after her as she disappeared down the corridor. He rubbed theback of his fingers across his lips, and thoughtfully examined hisfinger-nails.

"I wonder," he said, after a pause, looking up at Barrat. The Baronraised his eyebrows with a glance of polite interrogation.

"I wonder if Kalonay dared to make love to her on the way down."

The Baron's face became as expressionless as a death-mask, and heshrugged his shoulders in protest.

"—Or did she make love to Kalonay?" the King insisted, laughinggently. "I wonder now. I do not care to know, but I wonder."

According to tradition the Kalonay family was an older one than that ofthe House of Artois, and its name had always been the one next inimportance to that of the reigning house. The history of Messinashowed that different members of the Kalonay family had fought and diedfor different kings of Artois, and had enjoyed their favor and sharedtheir reverses with equal dignity, and that they had stood like arampart when the kingdom was invaded by the levelling doctrines ofRepublicanism and equality. And though the Kalonays were men ofstouter stuff than their cousins of Artois, they had never tried tousurp their place, but had set an example to the humblest shepherd ofunfailing loyalty and good-will to the King and his lady. The PrinceKalonay, who had accompanied the Dominican monk to Messina, was thelast of his race, and when Louis IV. had been driven off the island, hehad followed his sovereign into exile as a matter of course, and withhis customary good-humor. His estates, in consequence of this step,had been taken up by the Republic, and Kalonay had accepted the lossphilosophically as the price one pays for loving a king. He foundexile easy to bear in Paris, and especially so as he had neverrelinquished the idea that some day the King would return to his ownagain. So firmly did he believe in this, and so keenly was his heartset upon it, that Louis had never dared to let him know that forhimself exile in Paris and the Riviera was vastly to be preferred toauthority over a rocky island hung with fogs, and inhabited by dullmerchants and fierce banditti.

The conduct of the King during their residence in Paris would havetried the loyalty of one less gay and careless than Kalonay, for he wasa sorry monarch, and if the principle that "the King can do no wrong"had not been bred in the young Prince's mind, he would have desertedhis sovereign in the early days of their exile. But as it was, he madeexcuses for him to others and to himself, and served the King's idlepurposes so well that he gained for himself the name of the King'sjackal, and there were some who regarded him as little better than theKing's confidential blackguard, and man Friday, the weakest if the mostcharming of his court of adventurers.

At the first hint which the King gave of his desire to place himselfagain in power, Kalonay had ceased to be his Jackal and would haveissued forth as a commander-in-chief, had the King permitted him; butit was not to Louis's purpose that the Prince should know the realobject of the expedition, so he assigned its preparation to Erhaupt,and despatched Kalonay to the south of the island. At the same timeMadame Zara had been sent to the north of the island, ostensibly tosound the sentiment of the old nobility, but in reality to make capitalout of the presence there of Kalonay and Father Paul.

The King rose hurriedly when the slim figure of the Prince and thebroad shoulders and tonsured head of the monk appeared at the farthestend of the garden-walk.

"They are coming!" he cried, with a guilty chuckle; "so I shall runaway and finish dressing. I leave you to receive the first shock ofKalonay's enthusiasm alone. I confess he bores me. Remember, thestory Madame Zara told them in the yacht is the one she told us thismorning, that none of the old royalists at the capital would promise usany assistance. Be careful now, and play your parts prettily. We areall terribly in earnest."

Kalonay's enthusiasm had not spent itself entirely before the Kingreturned. He had still a number of amusing stories to tell, and hereviewed the adventures of the monk and himself with such vivacity andhumor that the King nodded his head in delight, and even the priestsmiled indulgently at the recollection.

Kalonay had seated himself on one of the tables, with his feet on achair and with a cigarette burning between his fingers. He was ahandsome, dark young man of thirty, with the impulsive manner of a boy.Dissipation had left no trace on his face, and his eyes were asinnocent of evil and as beautiful as a girl's, and as eloquent as histongue. "May the Maria Santissima pity the girls they look upon," hisold Spanish nurse used to say of them. But Kalonay had shown pity forevery one save himself. His training at an English public school, andlater as a soldier in the Ecole Polytechnique at Paris, had saved himfrom a too early fall, and men liked him instinctively, and the womenmuch too well.

"It was good to be back there again," he cried, with a happy sigh. "Itwas good to see the clouds following each other across the oldmountains and throwing black shadows on the campagna, and to hear thepeople's patois and to taste Messinian wine again and to know it wasfrom your own hillside. All our old keepers came down to the coast tomeet us, and told me about the stag-hunt the week before, and who wasmarried, and who was in jail, and who had been hanged for shooting acustoms officer, and they promised fine deer stalking if I get backbefore the snow leaves the ridges, for they say the deer have not beenhunted and are running wild." He stopped and laughed. "I forgot," hesaid, "your Majesty does not care for the rude pleasures of my half ofthe island." Kalonay threw away his cigarette, clasping his handsbefore him with a sudden change of manner.

"But seriously," he cried, "as I have been telling them—I wish yourMajesty could have heard the offers they made us, and could have seenthe tears running down their faces when we assured them that you wouldreturn. I wished a thousand times that we had brought you with us.With you at our head we can sweep the island from one end to the other.We will gather strength and force as we go, as a landslide grows, andwhen we reach the capital we will strike it like a human avalanche.

"And I wish you could have heard him speak," Kalonay cried, hisenthusiasm rising as he turned and pointed with his hand at the priest."There is the leader! He made my blood turn hot with his speeches, andwhen he had finished I used to find myself standing on my tiptoes andshouting with the rest. Without him I could have done nothing. Theyknew me too well; but the laziest rascals in the village came towelcome him again, and the women and men wept before him and broughttheir children to be blessed, and fell on their knees and kissed hissandals. It was like the stories they tell you when you are a child.He made us sob with regret and he filled us with fresh resolves. Oh,it is very well for you to smile, you old cynics," he cried, smiling athis own fervor, "but I tell you, I have lived since I saw you last!"

The priest stood silent with his hands hidden inside his great sleeves,and his head rising erect and rigid from his cowl. The eyes of the menwere turned upon him curiously, and he glanced from one to the other,as though mistrusting their sympathy.

"It was not me—it was the Church they came to welcome. The fools," hecried bitterly, "they thought they could destroy the faith of thepeople by banishing the servants of the Church. As soon end a mother'slove for her children by putting an ocean between them. For six yearsthose peasants have been true. I left them faithful, I returned tofind them faithful. And now—" he concluded, looking steadily at theKing as though to hold him to account, "and now they are to have theirreward."

The King bowed his head gravely in assent. "They are to have theirreward," he repeated. He rose and with a wave of his hand invited thepriest to follow him, and they walked together to the other end of theterrace. When they were out of hearing of the others the King seatedhimself, and the priest halted beside his chair.

"I wish to speak with you, father," Louis said, "concerning this youngAmerican girl, Miss Carson, who has promised to help us—to helpyou—with her money. Has she said yet how much she means to give us,"asked the King, "and when she means to let us have it? It is adelicate matter, and I do not wish to urge the lady, but we are reallygreatly in need of money. Baron Barrat, who arrived from Paris thismorning, brings back no substantial aid, although the sympathy of theold nobility, he assures me, is with us. Sympathy, however, does notpurchase Maxim guns, nor pay for rations, and Madame Zara's visit tothe capital was, as you know, even less successful."

"Your Majesty has seen Miss Carson, then?" the priest asked.

"Yes, her mother and she have been staying at the Continental eversince they followed you here from Paris, and I have seen her once ortwice during your absence. The young lady seems an earnest daughter ofour faith, and she is deeply in sympathy with our effort tore-establish your order and the influence of the Church upon theisland. I have explained to her that the only way in which the Churchcan regain her footing there is through my return to the throne, andMiss Carson has hinted that she is willing to make even a largercontribution than the one she first mentioned. If she means to dothis, it would be well if she did it at once."

"Perhaps I have misunderstood her," said the priest, after a moment'sconsideration; "but I thought the sum she meant to contribute was to begiven only after the monarchy has been formally established, and thatshe wished whatever she gave to be used exclusively in rebuilding thechurches and the monastery. I do not grudge it to your Majesty'spurpose, but so I understood her."

"Ah, that is quite possible," returned Louis, easily; "it may be thatshe did so intend at first, but since I have talked with her she hasshown a willing disposition to aid us not only later, but now. Mysuccess means your success," he continued, smiling pleasantly as herose to his feet, "so I trust you will urge her to be prompt. Sheseems to have unlimited resources in her own right. Do you happen toknow from whence her money comes?"

"Her mother told me," said the priest, "that Mr. Carson before hisdeath owned mines and railroads. They live in California, near theMission of Saint Francis. I have written concerning them to the FatherSuperior there, and he tells me that Mr. Carson died a very rich man,and that he was a generous servant of the Church. His daughter has butjust inherited her father's fortune, and her one idea of using it is togive it to the Church, as he would have done."

The priest paused and seemed to consider what the King had just toldhim. "I will speak with her," he said, "and ask her aid as fully asshe can give it. May I inquire how far your Majesty has taken her intoour plans?"

"Miss Carson is fully informed," the King replied briefly. "And if youwish to speak with her you can see her now; she and her mother arecoming to breakfast with me to hear the account of your visit to theisland. You can speak with her then—and, father," the King added,lowering his eyes and fingering the loose sleeve of the priest's robe,"it would be well, I think, to have this presentation of the youngnobles immediately after the luncheon, while Miss Carson is stillpresent. We might even make a little ceremony of it, and so show herthat she is fully in our confidence—that she is one of our most valuedsupporters. It might perhaps quicken her interest in the cause."

"I see no reason why that should not be," said the priest,thoughtfully, turning his eyes to the sea below them. "Madame Zara,"he added, without moving his eyes, "will not be present."

The King straightened himself slightly, and for a brief moment of timelooked at the priest in silence, but the monk continued to gazesteadily at the blue waters.

"Madame Zara will not be present," the King repeated, coldly.

"There are a few fishermen and mountaineers, your Majesty," the priestcontinued, turning an unconscious countenance to the King, "who cameback with us from the island. They come as a deputation to inform yourMajesty of the welcome that waits you, and I have promised them anaudience. If you will pardon me I would suggest that you receive thesehonest people at the same time with the others, and that his Highnessthe Crown Prince be also present, and that he receive them with you.Their anxiety to see him is only second to their desire to speak toyour Majesty. You will find some of your most loyal subjects amongthese men. Their forefathers have been faithful to your house and tothe Church for many generations."

"Excellent," said the King; "I shall receive them immediately after thedeputation from Paris. Consult with Baron Barrat and Kalonay, please,about the details. I wish either Kalonay or yourself to make thepresentation. I see Miss Carson and her mother coming. Afterluncheon, then, at, say, three o'clock—will that be satisfactory?"

"As your Majesty pleases," the priest answered, and with a bow hestrode across the terrace to where Kalonay stood watching them.

II

Mrs. Carson and her daughter came from the hotel to the terrace throughthe hallway which divided the King's apartments. Baron Barrat precededthem and they followed in single file, Miss Carson walking first. Itwas a position her mother always forced upon her, and after people grewto know them they accepted it as illustrating Mrs. Carson's confidencein her daughter's ability to care for herself, as well as her own wishto remain in the background.

Patricia Carson, as she was named after her patron saint, or "Patty"Carson, as she was called more frequently, was an exceedingly prettygirl. She was tall and fair, with a smile that showed such confidencein everyone she met that few could find the courage to undeceive her bybeing themselves, and it was easier, in the face of such an appeal asher eyes made to the best in every one, for each to act a part while hewas with her. She was young, impressionable, and absolutelyinexperienced. As a little girl she had lived on a great ranch, whereshe could gallop from sunrise to sunset over her own prairie land, andlater her life had been spent in a convent outside of Paris. She hadbut two great emotions, her love for her father and for the Churchwhich had nursed her. Her father's death had sanctified him and givenhim a place in her heart that her mother could not hold, and when shefound herself at twenty-one the mistress of a great fortune, her oneidea as to the disposal of it was to do with it what would best pleasehim and the Church which had been the ruling power in the life of bothof them. She was quite unconscious of her beauty, and her mode ofspeaking was simple and eager.

She halted as she came near the King, and resting her two hands on thetop of her lace parasol, nodded pleasantly to him and to the others.She neither courtesied nor offered him her hand, but seemed to preferthis middle course, leaving them to decide whether she acted as she didfrom ignorance or from choice.

As the King stepped forward to greet her mother, Miss Carson passed himand moved on to where the Father Superior stood apart from the others,talking earnestly with the Prince. What he was saying was of anunwelcome nature, for Kalonay's face wore an expression of boredom andpolite protest which changed instantly to one of delight when he sawMiss Carson. The girl hesitated and made a deep obeisance to thepriest.

"I am afraid I interrupt you," she said.

"Not at all," Kalonay assured her, laughing. "It is a most welcomeinterruption. The good father has been finding fault with me, asusual, and I am quite willing to change the subject."

The priest smiled kindly on the girl, and while he exchanged some wordsof welcome with her, Kalonay brought up one of the huge wicker chairs,and she seated herself with her back to the others, facing the two men,who stood leaning against the broad balustrade. They had beenfellow-conspirators sufficiently long for them to have grown to knoweach other well, and the priest, so far from regarding her as anintruder, hailed her at once as a probable ally, and endeavored tobegin again where he had ceased speaking.

"Do you not agree with me, Miss Carson?" he asked. "I am telling thePrince that zeal is not enough, and that high ideals, unless they areaccompanied by good conduct, are futile. I want him to change, to bemore sober, more strict——"

"Oh, you must not ask me," Miss Carson said, hurriedly, smiling andshaking her head. "We are working for only one thing, are we not?Beyond that you know nothing of me, and I know nothing of you. I cameto hear of your visit," she continued; "am I to be told anything?" sheasked, eagerly, looking from one to the other. "It has been such ananxious two weeks. We imagined all manner of things had happened toyou."

Kalonay laughed happily. "The Father was probably never safer in hislife," he said. "They took us to their hearts like brothers. Theymight have suffocated us with kindness, but we were in no other danger."

"Then you are encouraged, Father?" she asked, turning to the priest."You found them loyal? Your visit was all you hoped, you can dependupon them?"

"We can count upon them absolutely," the monk assured her. "We shallstart on our return voyage at once, in a day, as soon as his Majestygives the word."

"There are so many things I want to know," the girl said; "but I haveno right to ask," she added, looking up at him doubtfully.

"You have every right," the monk answered. "You have certainly earnedit. Without the help you gave us we could not have moved. You havebeen more than generous——"

Miss Carson interrupted him with an impatient lifting of her head."That sort of generosity is nothing," she said. "With you men it isdifferent. You are all risking something. You are actually helping,while I must sit still and wait. I hope, Father," she said, smiling,"it is not wrong for me to wish I were a man."

"Wrong!" exclaimed Kalonay, in a tone of mock dismay; "of course it'swrong. It's wicked."

The monk turned and looked coldly over his shoulder at Kalonay, and thePrince laughed.

"I beg your pardon," he said, "but we are told to be contented with ourlot," he argued, impenitently. "`He only is a slave who complains,'and that is true even if a heretic did say it."

The monk shook his head and turned again to Miss Carson with a tolerantsmile.

"He is very young," he said, as though Kalonay did not hear him, "andwild and foolish—and yet," he added, doubtfully, "I find I love theboy." He regarded the young man with a kind but impersonal scrutiny,as though he were a picture or a statue. "Sometimes I imagine he isall I might have been," he said, "had not God given me the strength toovercome myself. He has never denied himself in anything; he is aswilful and capricious as a girl. He makes a noble friend, Miss Carson,and a generous enemy; but he is spoiled irretrievably by good fortuneand good living and good health." The priest looked at the young manwith a certain sad severity. "`Unstable as water, thou shalt notexcel,'" he said.

The girl, in great embarrassment, turned her head away, glancing fromthe ocean to the sky; but Kalonay seated himself coolly on the broadbalustrade of the terrace with his hands on his hips, and his heelsresting on the marble tiling, and clicked the soles of his bootstogether.

"Oh, I have had my bad days, too, Father," he said. He turned his headon one side, and pressed his lips together, looking down.

"Unstable as water—that is quite possible," he said, with an air ofconsideration; "but spoiled by good fortune—oh, no, that is not fair.Do you call it good fortune, sir," he laughed, "to be an exile attwenty-eight? Is it good fortune to be too poor to pay your debts, andtoo lazy to work; to be the last of a great name, and to have no chanceto add to the glory of it, and no means to keep its dignity fresh andsecure? Do you fancy I like to see myself drifting farther and fartheraway from the old standards and the old traditions; to have Englishbrewers and German Jew bankers taking the place I should have, buyingtitles with their earnings and snubbing me because I can only hunt whensomeone gives me a mount, and because I choose to take a purse insteadof a cup when we shoot at Monte Carlo?"

"What child's talk is this?" interrupted the priest, angrily. "Athousand horses cannot make a man noble, nor was poverty ever ignoble.You talk like a weak boy. Every word you say is your own condemnation.Why should you complain? Your bed is of your own making. The otherprodigal was forced to herd with the swine—you have chosen to herdwith them."

The girl straightened herself and half rose from her chair.

"You are boring Miss Carson with my delinquencies," said the Prince,sternly. His face was flushed, and he did not look either at the girlor at the priest.

"But the prodigal's father?" said Miss Carson, smiling at the olderman. "Did he stand over him and upbraid him? You remember, he went tomeet him when he was yet a great way off. That was it, was it not,Father?"

"Of course he did," cried Kalonay, laughing like a boy, and slippinglightly to the terrace. "He met him half way and gave him the best hehad." He stepped to Miss Carson's side and the two young people movedaway smiling, and the priest, seeing that they were about to escapehim, cried eagerly, "But that prodigal had repented. This one——"

"Let's run," cried the Prince. "He will get the best of us if we stay.He always gets the best of me. He has been abusing me that way for twoweeks now, and he is always sorry afterward. Let us leave him alone tohis sorrow and remorse."

Kalonay walked across the terrace with Miss Carson, bending above herwith what would have seemed to an outsider almost a proprietary right.She did not appear to notice it, but looked at him frankly and listenedto what he had to say with interest. He was speaking rapidly, and ashe spoke he glanced shyly at her as though seeking her approbation, andnot boldly, as he was accustomed to do when he talked with either menor women. To look at her with admiration was such a cheap form ofappreciation, and one so distasteful to her, that had he known it,Kalonay's averted eyes were more of a compliment than any words hecould have spoken. His companions who had seen him with other womenknew that his manner to her was not his usual manner, and that he gaveher something he did not give to the others; that he was more discreetand less ready, and less at ease.

The Prince Kalonay had first met Miss Carson and her mother by chancein Paris, at the rooms of Father Paul, where they had each gone on thesame errand, and since that meeting his whole manner toward the twoworlds in which he lived had altered so strangely that mereacquaintances noticed the change.

Before he had met her, the little the priest had said concerning herand her zeal for their common desire had piqued his curiosity, and hisimagination had been aroused by the picture of a romantic young womangiving her fortune to save the souls of the people of Messina; hispeople whom he regarded and who regarded him less as a feudal lord thanas a father and a comrade. He had pictured her as a nervous, angularwoman with a pale, ascetic face, and with the restless eyes of anenthusiast, dressed in black and badly dressed, and with a severe andnarrow intelligence. But he had prepared himself to forgive herpersonality, for the sake of the high and generous impulse thatinspired her. And when he was presented to her as she really was, andfound her young, lovable, and nobly fair, the shock of wonder anddelight had held him silent during the whole course of her interviewwith the priest, and when she had left them his brain was in a tumultand was filled with memories of her words and gestures, and of thesweet fearlessness of her manner. Beautiful women he had known beforeas beautiful women, but the saving grace in his nature had never beforebeen so deeply roused by what was fine as well as beautiful. It seemedas though it were too complete and perfect. For he assured himselfthat she possessed everything—those qualities which he had nevervalued before because he believed them to be unattainable, and thoseothers which he had made his idols. She was with him, mind and heartand soul, in the one desire of his life that he took seriously; she wasof his religion, she was more noble than his noble sisters, and she wasmore beautiful than the day. In the first glow of the meeting itseemed to him as though fate had called them to do this worktogether,—she from the far shore of the Pacific, and he from his rockyisland in the Middle Sea. And he saw with cruel distinctness, that ifthere were one thing wanting, it was himself. He worshipped her beforehe had bowed his first good-by to her, and that night he walked formiles up and down the long lengths of the avenue of the Champs-Elysees,facing the great change that she had brought into his life, but knowinghimself to be utterly unfit for her coming. He felt like an unworthysteward caught at his master's return unprepared, with ungirt loins,and unlighted lamp. Nothing he had done since he was a child gave himthe right to consider himself her equal. He was not blinded by theapproaches which other daughters and the mothers of daughters had madehim. He knew that what was enough to excuse many things in their eyesmight find no apology in hers. He looked back with the awakening of achild at the irrevocable acts in his life that could not be altered nordug up nor hidden away. They marked the road he had trodden like heavymilestones, telling his story to every passer-by. She could read them,as everyone else could read them. He had wasted his substance, he hadbartered his birthright for a moment's pleasure; there was no one solow and despicable who could not call him comrade, to whom he had notgiven himself without reserve. There was nothing left, and now the onething he had ever wanted had come, and had found him like a bankrupt,his credit wasted and his coffers empty. He had placed himself at thebeck and call of every idle man and woman in Paris, and he was ascommon as the great clock-face that hangs above the boulevards.

Miss Carson's feelings toward Kalonay were not of her own choosing, andhad passed through several stages. When they had first met she hadthought it most sad that so careless and unprincipled a person shouldchance to hold so important a part in the task she had set herself todo. She knew his class only by hearsay, but she placed him in it, and,accordingly, at once dismissed him as a person from her mind. Kalonayhad never shown her that he loved her, except by those signs which anywoman can read and which no man can conceal; but he did not make loveto her, and it was that which first prepossessed her in his favor. Oneor two other men who knew of her fortune, and to whom she had given aslittle encouragement as she had to Kalonay, had been less considerate.But his attitude toward her was always that of a fellow-worker in thecommon cause. He treated her with a gratitude for the help she meantto give his people which much embarrassed her. His seriousness pleasedher with him, seeing, as she did, that it was not his nature to beserious, and his enthusiasm and love for his half-civilized countrymenincreased her interest in them, and her liking for him. She could nothelp but admire the way in which he accepted, without forcing her tomake it any plainer, the fact that he held no place in her thoughts.And then she found that he began to hold more of a place in herthoughts than she had supposed any man could hold of whom she knew solittle, and of whom the little she knew was so ill. She missed himwhen she went to the priest's and found that he had not sent forKalonay to bear his part in their councils; and at times she felt anunworthy wish to hear Kalonay speak the very words she had admired himfor keeping from her. And at last she learned the truth that she didlove him, and it frightened her, and made her miserable and happy.They had not seen each other since he had left Paris for Messina, andthough they spoke now only of his mission to the island, there was backof what they said the joy for each of them of being together again andof finding that it meant so much. What it might mean to the other,neither knew.

For some little time the King followed the two young people with hiseyes, and then joined them, making signs to Kalonay that he wished himto leave them together; but Kalonay remained blind to his signals, andBarrat, seeing that it was not a tete-a-tete, joined them also. Whenhe did so Kalonay asked the King for a word, and laying his hand uponhis arm walked with him down the terrace, pointing ostensibly to wherethe yacht lay in the harbor. Louis answered his pantomime with anappropriate gesture, and then asked, sharply, "Well, what is it? Whydid you bring me here? And what do you mean by staying on when you seeyou are not wanted?"

They were some distance from the others. Kalonay smiled and made aslight bow. "Your Majesty," he began, with polite emphasis. The Kinglooked at him curiously.

"In the old days under similar circumstances," the Prince continued,with the air of a courtier rather than that of an equal, "had I thoughtof forming an alliance by marriage, I should have come to your Majestyfirst and asked your gracious approval. But those days are past, andwe are living at the end of the century; and we do such thingsdifferently." He straightened himself and returned the King's look ofamused interest with one as cynical as his own. "What I wanted to tellyou, Louis," he said, quietly, "is that I mean to ask Miss Carson tobecome the Princess Kalonay."

The King raised his head quickly and stared at the younger man with alook of distaste and surprise. He gave an incredulous laugh.

"Indeed?" he said at last. "There was always something about richwomen you could never resist."

The Prince made his acknowledgment with a shrug of his shoulders andsmiled indifferently.

"I didn't expect you to understand," he said. "It does seem odd; it'squite as difficult for me to understand as for you. I have beenthrough it a great many times, and I thought I knew all there was ofit. But now it seems different. No, it does not seem different," hecorrected himself; "it is different, and I love the lady and I mean toask her to do me the honor to marry me. I didn't expect you tounderstand, I don't care if you do. I only wanted to warn you."

"Warn me?" interrupted the King, with an unpleasant smile. "Indeed!against what? Your tone is a trifle peremptory—but you areinteresting, most interesting! Kalonay in a new role, Kalonay in love!Most interesting! Warn me against what?" he repeated sharply.

"Your Majesty has a certain manner," the Prince began, with a pretenceof hesitation, "a charm of manner, I might say, which is proverbial.It is, we know, attractive to women. Every woman acknowledges it. Butyour Majesty is sometimes too gracious. He permits himself tocondescend to many women, to any woman, to women of all classes——"

"That will do," said the King; "what do you mean?"

"What I mean is this," said Kalonay, lowering his voice and lookinginto the King's half-closed eyes. "You can have all of Miss Carson'smoney you want—all you can get. I don't want it. If I am to—marryher at all, I am not marrying her for her money. You can't believethat. It isn't essential that you should. But I want you to leave thewoman I hope to make my wife alone. I will allow no pretty speeches,nor royal attentions. She can give her money where she pleases, nowand always; but I'll not have her eyes opened to—as you can open them.I will not have her annoyed. And if she is——"

"Ah, and if she is?" challenged the King. His eyes were wide apart nowand his lips were parted and drawn back from his teeth, like a snarlingcat——

"I shall hold whoever annoys her responsible," Kalonay concluded,impersonally.

There was a moment's pause, during which the two men stood regardingeach other warily.

Then the King stiffened his shoulders and placed his hands slowlybehind his back. "That sounds, my dear Kalonay," he said, "almost likea threat."

The younger man laughed insolently. "I meant it, too, your Majesty,"he answered, bowing mockingly and backing away.

As the King's guests seated themselves at his breakfast-table Louissmiled upon them with a gracious glance of welcome and approval. Hismanner was charmingly condescending, and in his appearance there wasnothing more serious than an anxiety for their better entertainment anda certain animal satisfaction in the food upon his plate.

In reality his eyes were distributing the people at the table beforehim into elements favorable or unfavorable to his plans, and in hismind he shuffled them and their values for him or against him as agambler arranges and rearranges the cards in his hand. He saw himselfplainly as his own highest card, and Barrat and Erhaupt as willing butmediocre accomplices. In Father Paul and Kalonay he recognized hismost powerful allies or most dangerous foes. Miss Carson meant nothingto him but a source from which he could draw the sinews of war. Whatwould become of her after the farce was ended, he did not consider. Hewas not capable of comprehending either her or her motives, and had heconcerned himself about her at all, he would have probably thought thatshe was more of a fool than the saint she pretended to be, and that shehad come to their assistance more because she wished to be near aPrince and a King than because she cared for the souls of sixtythousand peasants. That she would surely lose her money, and couldhardly hope to escape from them without losing her good name, did notconcern him. It was not his duty to look after the reputation of anyAmerican heiress who thought she could afford to be unconventional.She had a mother to do that for her, and she was pretty enough, heconcluded, to excuse many things,—so pretty that he wondered if hemight brave the Countess Zara and offer Miss Carson the attentions towhich Kalonay had made such arrogant objections. The King smiled atthe thought, and let his little eyes fall for a moment on the tallfigure of the girl with its crown of heavy golden hair, and on herclever, earnest eyes. She was certainly worth waiting for, and in themeanwhile she was virtually unprotected and surrounded by his ownpeople. According to his translation of her acts, she had alreadyoffered him every encouragement, and had placed herself in a positionwhich to his understanding of the world could have but oneinterpretation. What Kalonay's sudden infatuation might mean he couldnot foresee; whether it promised good or threatened evil, he could onlyguess, but he decided that the young man's unwonted show ofindependence of the morning must be punished. His claim to exclusiveproprietorship in the young girl struck the King as amusing, butimpertinent. It would be easy sailing in spite of all, he decided; forsomewhere up above them in the hotel sat the unbidden guest, the womanagainst whom Father Paul had raised the ban of expulsion, but who had,nevertheless, tricked both him and the faithful Jackal.

The breakfast was drawing to an end and the faithful Niccolas was theonly servant remaining in the room. The talk had grown intimate andtouched openly upon the successful visit of the two ambassadors to theisland, and of Barrat's mission to Paris. Of Madame Zara's visit tothe northern half of the island, which was supposed to have been lesssuccessful, no mention was made.

Louis felt as he listened to them like a man at a play, who knows thatat a word from him the complications would cease, and that were he torise in the stalls and explain them away, and point out the real heroand denounce the villain, the curtain would have to ring down on theinstant. He gave a little purr of satisfaction, and again marshalledhis chances before him and smiled to find them good. He was grandly atpeace with himself and with the world. Whatever happened, he wasalready richer by some 300,000 francs, and in a day, if he could keepthe American girl to her expedition had been played he would befree,—free to return to his clubs and to his boulevards and boudoirs,with money enough to silence the most insolent among his creditors, andwith renewed credit; with even a certain glamour about him of one whohad dared to do, even though he had failed in the doing, who had shakenoff the slothfulness of ease and had chosen to risk his life for histhrone with a smoking rifle in his hand, until a traitor had turnedfortune against him.

The King was amused to find that this prospect pleased him vastly. Hewas surprised to discover that, careless as he thought himself to be topublic opinion, he was still capable of caring for its approbation; buthe consoled himself for this weakness by arguing that it was onlybecause the approbation would be his by a trick that it pleased him tothink of. Perhaps some of his royal cousins, in the light of his boldintent, might take him under their protection instead of neglecting himshamefully, as they had done in the past. His armed expedition mightopen certain doors to him; his name—and he smiled grimly as heimagined it—would ring throughout Europe as the Soldier King, as themodern disciple of the divine right of kings. He saw, in his mind'seye, even the possibility of a royal alliance and a pension from one ofthe great Powers. No matter where he looked he could see nothing butgain to himself, more power for pleasure, more chances of greaterfortune in the future, and while his lips assented to what the otherssaid, and his eyes thanked them for some expression of loyalty orconfidence, he saw himself in dreams as bright as an absinthedrinker's, back in his beloved Paris: in the Champs-Elysees behind finehorses, lolling from a silk box at the opera, dealing baccarat at thejockey Club, or playing host to some beautiful woman of the hour, inthe new home he would establish for her in the discreet and leafyborders of the Bois.

He had forgotten his guests and the moment. He had forgotten thatthere were difficulties yet to overcome, and with a short, indrawn sighof pleasure, he threw back his head and smiled arrogantly upon thesunny terrace and the green palms and the brilliant blue sea, as thoughhe challenged the whole beautiful world before him to do aught butminister to his success and contribute to his pleasures.

And at once, as though in answer to his challenge, a tall, slim youngman sprang lightly up the steps of the terrace, passed the bewilderedguards with a cheery nod, and, striding before the open windows,knocked with his fist upon the portals of the door, as sharply and asconfidently as though the King's shield had hung there, and he hadstruck it with a lance.

The King's dream shattered and faded away at the sound, and he moveduneasily in his chair. He had the gambler's superstitious regard fortrifles, and this invasion of his privacy by a confident strangerfilled him with sudden disquiet.

He saw Kalonay staring at the open windows with an expression ofastonishment and dismay.

"Who is it?" the King asked, peevishly. "What are you staring at? Howdid he get in?"

Kalonay turned on Barrat, sitting at his right. "Did you see him?" heasked. Barrat nodded gloomily.

"The devil!" exclaimed the Prince, as though Barrat had confirmed hisguess. "I beg your pardon," he said, nodding his head toward thewomen. He pushed back his chair and stood irresolutely with his napkinin his hand. "Tell him we are not in, Niccolas," he commanded.

"He saw us as he passed the window," the Baron objected.

"Say we are at breakfast then. I will see him myself in a moment.What shall I tell him?" he asked, turning to Barrat. "Do you think heknows? He must know, they have told him in Paris."

"You are keeping us waiting," said the King. "What is it? Who is thisman?"

"An American named Gordon. He is a correspondent," Kalonay answered,without turning his head. His eyes were still fixed on the terrace asthough he had seen a ghost.

The King slapped his hand on the arm of the chair. "You promised me,"he said, "that we should be free from that sort of thing. That is whyI agreed to come here instead of going to Algiers. Go out, Barrat, andsend him away."

Barrat pressed his lips together and shook his head.

"You can't send him away like that," he said. "He is a very importantyoung man."

"Find out how much he will take, then," exclaimed the King, angrily,"and give it to him. I can better afford to pay blackmail to anyamount than have my plans spoiled now by the newspapers. Give him whathe wants—a fur coat—they always wear fur coats—or five thousandfrancs, or something—anything—but get rid of him."

Barrat stirred uneasily in his chair and shrugged his shoulders. "Heis not a boulevard journalist," he replied, sulkily.

"Your Majesty is thinking of the Hungarian Jews at Vienna," explainedKalonay, "who live on chantage and the Monte Carlo propaganda fund.This man is not in their class; he is not to be bought. I said he wasan American."

"An American!" exclaimed Mrs. Carson and her daughter, exchanging rapidglances. "Is it Archie Gordon you mean?" the girl asked. "I thoughthe was in China."

"That is the man—Archie Gordon. He writes books and explores places,"Kalonay answered.

"I know him. He wrote a book on the slave trade in the Congo,"contributed Colonel Erhaupt. "I met him at Zanzibar. What does hewant with us?"

"He was in Yokohama when the Japanese-Chinese war broke out," saidKalonay, turning to the King, "and he cabled a London paper he wouldfollow the war for it if they paid him a hundred a week. He meantAmerican dollars, but they thought he meant pounds, so they cabled backthat they'd pay one-half that sum. He answered, `One hundred ornothing,' and they finally assented to that, and he started; and whenthe first week's remittance arrived, and he received five hundreddollars instead of the one hundred he expected, he sent back thedifference."

"What a remarkable young man!" exclaimed the King. "He is much toogood for daily wear. We don't want anyone like that around here, dowe?"

"I know Mr. Gordon very well," said Miss Carson. "He lived in SanFrancisco before he came East. He was always at our house, and was agreat friend of the family; wasn't he, mother? We haven't seen him fortwo years now, but I know he wouldn't spoil our plans for the sake ofhis paper, if he knew we were in earnest, if he understood thateverything depended upon its being kept a secret."

"We are not certain that he knows anything," the King urged. "He maynot have come here to see us. I think Father Paul should talk with himfirst."

"I was going to suggest," said Miss Carson, with some hesitation, "thatif I spoke to him I might be able to put it to him in such a way thathe would see how necessary it——"

"Oh, excellent!" exclaimed the King, eagerly, and rising to his feet;"if you only would be so kind, Miss Carson."

Kalonay, misunderstanding the situation altogether, fastened his eyesupon the table and did not speak.

"He has not come to see you, Patricia," said Mrs. Carson, quietly.

"He does not know that I am here," Miss Carson answered; "but I'm sureif he did he would be very glad to see us again. And if we do see himwe can make him promise not to do anything that might interfere withour plans. Won't you let me speak to him, mother?"

Mrs. Carson turned uncertainly to the priest for direction, and hisglance apparently reassured her, for she rose, though still with atroubled countenance, and the two women left the room together, the menstanding regarding each other anxiously across the table. When theyhad gone the King lit a cigarette and, turning his back on hiscompanions, puffed at it nervously in silence. Kalonay sat moodilystudying the pattern on the plate before him, and the others whisperedtogether at the farther end of the table.

When Miss Carson and her mother stepped out upon the terrace, theAmerican was standing with his back toward them and was speaking to theguards who sat cross-legged at the top of the steps. They showed nosign of surprise at the fact of his addressing them in their own tonguefurther than that they answered him with a show of respect which theyhad not exhibited toward those they protected. The American turned ashe heard the footsteps behind him, and, after a startled look ofastonishment, hurried toward the two women, exclaiming, with everyexpression of pleasure.

"I had no idea you were stopping here," he said, after the firstgreetings were over. "I thought you were somewhere on the Continent.I am so glad I caught you. It seems centuries since I saw you last.You're looking very well, Mrs. Carson—and as for Patty—I am almostafraid of her—I've been hearing all sorts of things about you lately,Patty," he went on, turning a smiling countenance toward the girl."About your engagements to princes and dukes—all sorts of disturbingrumors. What a terrible swell you've grown to be. I hardly recognizeyou at all, Mrs. Carson. It isn't possible this is the same young girlI used to take buggy riding on Sunday evenings?"

"Indeed, it is not. I wish it were," said Mrs. Carson, plaintively,sinking into a chair. "I'm glad to see you're not changed, Archie,"she added, with a sigh.

"Why, he's very much changed, mother," the girl said. "He's taller,and, in comparison with what he was, he's almost wasted away, and sosunburned I hardly knew him. Except round the forehead," she added,mockingly, "and I suppose the sun couldn't burn there because of thelaurel-wreaths. I hear they bring them to you fresh every morning."

"They're better than coronets, at any rate," Gordon answered, with anod. "They're not so common. And if I'm wasted away, can you wonder?How long has it been since I saw you, Patty?"

"No, I'm wrong, he's not changed," Miss Carson said dryly, as sheseated herself beside her mother.

"How do you two come to be stopping here?" the young man asked. "Ithought this hotel had been turned over to King Louis?"

"It has," Mrs. Carson answered. "We are staying at the Continental, onthe hill there. We are only here for breakfast. He asked us tobreakfast."

"He?" repeated Gordon, with an incredulous smile. "Who? Not theKing—not that blackguard?"

Miss Carson raised her head, and stared at him in silence, and hermother gave a little gasp, apparently of relief and satisfaction.

"Yes," Miss Carson answered at last, coldly. "We are breakfasting withhim. What do you know against him?"

Gordon stared at her with such genuine astonishment that the girllowered her eyes, and, bending forward in her chair, twirled herparasol nervously between her fingers.

"What do I know against him? Why, Patty!" he exclaimed. "How did youmeet him, in Heaven's name?" he asked, roughly. "Have you been seenwith him? Have you known him long? Who had the impudence to presenthim?"

Mrs. Carson looked up, now thoroughly alarmed. Her lower lip wastrembling, and she twisted her gloved hands together in her lap.

"What do you know against him?" Miss Carson repeated, meeting Gordon'slook with one as full of surprise as his own.

The young man regarded her steadily for a few moments, and then, with achange of manner, as though he now saw the situation was much moreserious than he had at first supposed, drew up a chair in front of thetwo women and seated himself deliberately.

"Has he borrowed any money from you yet?" he asked. Miss Carson's faceflushed crimson and she straightened her shoulders and turned her eyesaway from Gordon with every sign of indignation and disapproval. Theyoung man gave an exclamation of relief.

"No? That's good. You cannot have known him so very long. I amgreatly relieved."

"Louis of Messina," he began more gently, "is the most unscrupulousrascal in Europe. Since they turned him out of his kingdom he haslived by selling his title to men who are promoting new brands ofchampagne or floating queer mining shares. The greater part of hisincome is dependent on the generosity of the old nobility of Messina,and when they don't pay him readily enough, he levies blackmail onthem. He owes money to every tailor and horse-dealer and hotel-keeperin Europe, and no one who can tell one card from another will play withhim. That is his reputation. And to help him live up to it he hassurrounded himself with a parcel of adventurers as rascally as himself:a Colonel Erhaupt who was dropped from a German regiment, and who is aColonel only by the favor of the Queen of Madagascar; a retiredcroupier named Barrat; and a fallen angel called Kalonay, a fellow ofthe very best blood in Europe and with the very worst morals. Theycall him the King's jackal, and he is one of the most delightfulblackguards I ever met. So is the King for that matter, a mostentertaining individual if you keep him in his place, but a man nowoman can know. In fact, Mrs. Carson," Gordon went on, addressinghimself to the mother, "when you have to say that a woman hasabsolutely no reputation whatever you can best express it by explainingthat she has a title from Louis of Messina. That is his Majesty's wayof treating his feminine friends when they bore him and he wants to getrid of them. He gives them a title.

"The only thing the man ever did that was to his credit and that couldbe discussed in polite society is what he is doing now at this place,at this moment. For it seems," Gordon whispered, drawing his chaircloser, "that he is about to show himself something of a man after all,and that he is engaged in fitting out an armed expedition with which hehopes to recover his kingdom. That's what brought me here, and I mustsay I rather admire him for attempting such a thing. Of course, it wasKalonay who put him up to it; he would never have stirred from theboulevards if that young man had not made him. But he is here,nevertheless, waiting for a favorable opportunity to sail, and he hasten thousand rifles and three Maxim guns lying in his yacht out therein the harbor. That's how I came to learn about it. I was getting anestimate on an outfit I was thinking of taking into Yucatan from my oldgunsmith in the Rue Scribe, and he dropped a hint that he had shippedten thousand rifles to Tangier, to Colonel Erhaupt. I have met Erhauptin Zanzibar, and knew he was the King's right-hand man, so I put twoand two together and decided I would follow them up, and——"

"Yes, and now," interrupted Miss Carson, sharply—"and now that youhave followed them up, what do you mean to do?"

Gordon looked his surprise at her earnestness, but answered that he didnot know what he would do; he thought he would either ask them to givehim a commission in their expedition, and let him help them fight, andwrite an account of their adventures later, or he would telegraph thestory at once to his paper. It was with him, he said, entirely aquestion as to which course would be of the greater news value. If hetold what he now knew, his paper would be the first of all others to,inform the world of the expedition and the proposed revolution; whileif he volunteered for the expedition and waited until it had failed orsucceeded, he would be able to tell more eventually, but would have toshare it with other correspondents.

Miss Carson regarded him with an expression in which indignation andentreaty were curiously blended.

"Archie," she said, in a low voice, "you do not know what you are doingor saying. You are threatening to spoil the one thing in my life onwhich I have set my heart. The return of this man to his throne,whether he is worthy or not, means the restoration of the CatholicChurch on that island; it means the return of the monks and therebuilding of the monasteries, and the salvation of sixty thousandsouls. I know all that they mean to do. I am the one who paid forthose rifles that brought you here; you have told me only what I haveknown for months, and for which I have been earnestly working andpraying. I am not blinded by these men. They are not the creaturesyou describe; but no matter what they may be, it is only through them,and through them alone, that I can do what I have set out to do."

Gordon silenced her with a sweep of his hand. "Do you mean to tellme," he demanded, "that you are mixed up in this—with these—that theyhave taken money from you, and told you they meant to use it tore-establish the Church? Mrs. Carson," he exclaimed, bitterly, turningupon her, "why have you allowed this—what have you been doing whilethis was going on? Do you suppose those scoundrels care for theChurch—the Church, indeed! Wait until I see them—any ofthem—Erhaupt by choice, and I'll make them give up every franc you'velent them, or I'll horsewhip and expose them for the gang of welshersand thimble-riggers they are; or if they prefer their own methods, I'llcall them out in rotation and shoot their arms and legs off." Hestopped and drew a long breath, either of content that he haddiscovered the situation in time to take some part in it, or at theprospect of a fight.

"The idea of you two helpless females wandering into this den ofwolves!" he exclaimed, indignantly. "It's about time you had a man tolook after you! You go back to your hotel now, and let me have a chatwith Louis of Messina. He's kept me waiting some twenty minutes as itis, and that's a little longer than I can give him. I'm not acreditor." He rose from his chair; but Miss Carson put out her handand motioned him to be seated.

"Archie," she said, "I like the way you take this, even though you areall wrong about it, because it's just like you to fly into a passionand want to fight someone for somebody. If your conclusions wereanywhere near the truth, you would be acting very well. But they arenot. The King is not handling my money, nor the Prince Kalonay. It isin the keeping of Father Paul, the Father Superior of the Dominicanmonks, who is the only one of these people I know or who knows me. Heis not a swindler, too, is he, or a retired croupier? Listen to menow, and do not fly out like that at me, or at mother. It is not herfault. Last summer mother and I went to Messina as tourists, and oneday, when passing through a seaport town, we saw a crowd of people onthe shore, standing or kneeling by the hundreds in a great semicircleclose to the water's edge. There was a priest preaching to them froman open boat. It was like a scene from the New Testament, and the man,this Father Paul, made me think of one of the disciples. I asked themwhy he did not preach on the land, and they told me that he and all ofthe priests had been banished from the island six years before, andthat they could only return by stealth and dared not land except bynight. When the priest had finished speaking, I had myself rowed outto his boat, and I talked a long time with him, and he told me of thisplan to re-establish himself and his order. I offered to help him withmy money, and he promised me a letter to Cardinal Napoli. It reachedme on my return to Rome, and through the influence of the Cardinal Iwas given an audience with the Pope, and I was encouraged to aid FatherPaul as far as I could. I had meant to build a memorial church forfather, but they urged me to give the money instead to this cause. Allmy dealings until to-day have been with Father Paul alone. I have seena little of the Prince Kalonay because they are always together; but hehas always treated me in a way to which no one could take exception,and he is certainly very much in earnest. When Father Paul left Parismother and I came on here in order to be near him, and that is how youfind me at Tangier. And now that you understand how much this means tome, I know you will not do anything to stand in our way. Those meninside are afraid that you came here for just the reason thatapparently has brought you, and when they saw you a little while agothrough the windows they were greatly disturbed. Let me tell them thatyou mean to volunteer for the campaign. The King cannot refuse theservices of a man who has done the things you are always doing. And Ipromise you that for a reward you shall be the only one to tell thestory of our attempt. I promise you," she repeated earnestly, "thatthe day we enter the capital, you can cable whatever you please andtell our story to the whole of Europe."

"The story be hanged!" replied Gordon. "You have made this a much moreserious business than a newspaper story. You misunderstand me utterly,Patty. I am here now because I am not going to have you compromisedand robbed."

The girl stood up and looked down at the young man indignantly.

"You have no right whatever to use that tone to me," she said. "I amof age and my own adviser. I am acting for the good of a great numberof people, and according to what my conscience and common sense tell meis right. I shall hate you if you attempt to interfere. You can doone of two things, Archie. I give you your choice: you can either gowith them as a volunteer, and promise to keep our secret; or you cancable what you know now, what you know only by accident, but if you do,you will lose your best friend, and you will defeat a good and a nobleeffort."

Gordon leaned back in his chair, and looked up at her steadily for abrief moment, and then rose with a smile, and bowed to the two women insilence. He crossed the terrace quickly with an amused and puzzledcountenance, and walked into the breakfast-room, from the windows ofwhich, as he rightly guessed, the five conspirators had for some timeobserved him. He looked from one to the other of the men about thetable, until his eyes finally met those of the King.

"I believe, sir, you are leading an expedition against the Republic ofMessina?" Gordon said. "I am afraid it can't start unless you take mewith you."

III

The presence in Tangier of the King of Messina and his suite, and thearrival there of the French noblemen who had volunteered for theexpedition, could not escape the observation of the residentConsuls-General and of the foreign colony, and dinners, riding andhunting parties, pig-sticking, and excursions on horseback into theoutlying country were planned for their honor and daily entertainment.Had the conspirators held aloof from these, the residents might haveasked, since it was not to enjoy themselves, what was the purpose oftheir stay in Tangier; and so, to allay suspicion as to their realobject, different members of the expedition had been assigned from timeto time to represent the visitors at these festivities. On the morningfollowing the return of the yacht from Messina, an invitation to rideto a farmhouse some miles out of Tangier and to breakfast there hadbeen sent to the visitors, and the King had directed the PrinceKalonay, and half of the delegation from Paris, to accept it in hisname.

They were well content to go, and rode forth gayly and in high spirits,for the word had been brought them early in the morning that theexpedition was already prepared to move, and that same evening atmidnight the yacht would set sail for Messina. They were careless asto what fortune waited for them there. The promise of much excitement,of fighting and of danger, of possible honor and success, stirred thehearts of the young men gloriously, and as they galloped across theplains, or raced each other from point to point, or halted to jumptheir ponies across the many gaping crevices which the sun had split inthe surface of the plain, they filled the still, warm air with theirshouts and laughter. In the party there were many ladies, and thegroups changed and formed again as they rode forward, spread out oneither side of the caravan-trail and covering the plain like a skirmishline of cavalry. But Kalonay kept close at Miss Carson's stirrup,whether she walked her pony or sent him flying across the hard,sunbaked soil.

"I hope you won't do that again," he said, earnestly, as she drew uppanting, with her sailor hat and hair falling to her shoulders. Theyhad been galloping recklessly over the open crevices in the soil.

"It's quite the nastiest country I ever saw," he said. "It looks asthough an earthquake had shaken it open and had forgotten to close itagain. Believe me, it is most unsafe and dangerous. Your pony mightstumble—" He stopped, as though the possibilities were too serious forwords, but the girl laughed.

"It's no more dangerous than riding across our prairie at dusk when youcan't see the barbed wire. You are the last person in the world tofind fault because a thing is dangerous," she added.

They had reached the farm, where they went to breakfast, and the youngEnglishman who was their host was receiving his guests in his garden,and the servants were passing among them, carrying cool drinks andpowdered sweets and Turkish coffee. Kalonay gave their ponies to aservant and pointed with his whip to an arbor that stood at one end ofthe garden.

"May we sit down there a moment until they call us?" he said. "I havenews of much importance—and I may not have another chance," he begged,looking at her wistfully. The girl stood motionless; her eyes wereserious, and she measured the distance down the walk to the arbor asthough she saw it beset with dangers more actual than precipices andtwisted wire. The Prince watched her as though his fate was beingweighed in his presence.

"Very well," she said at last, and moved on before him down thegarden-path.

The arbor was open to the air with a low, broad roof of palm-leavesthat overhung it on all sides and left it in deep shadow. Around itwere many strange plants and flowers, some native to Morocco and sometransplanted from their English home. From where they sat they couldsee the other guests moving in and out among the groves of orange andolive trees and swaying palms, and standing, outlined against the bluesky, upon the low, flat roof of the farm-house.

"I have dared to ask you to be so good as to give me this moment," thePrince said humbly, "only because I am going away, and it may be mylast chance to speak with you. You do not mind? You do not think Ipresume?"

"No, I do not mind," said the girl, smiling. "In my country we do notthink it a terrible offence to talk to a girl at a garden-party. Butyou said there was something of importance you wanted to say to me.You mean the expedition?"

"Yes," said Kalonay. "We start this evening." The girl raised herhead slightly and stared past him at the burning white walls and theburning blue sky that lay outside the circle of shadow in which theysat.

"This evening—" she repeated to herself.

"We reach there in two days," Kalonay continued; "and then we—then wego on—until we enter the capital."

The girl's head was bent, and she looked at her hands as they lay inher lap and frowned at them, they seemed so white and pretty anduseless.

"Yes, you go on," she repeated, "and we stay here. You are a man andable to go on. I know what that means. And you like it," she added,with a glance of mingled admiration and fear. "You are glad to fightand to risk death and to lead men on to kill other men."

Kalonay drew lines in the sand with his ridingwhip, and did not raisehis head.

"I suppose it is because you are fighting for your home," the girlcontinued, "and to set your country free, and that you can live withyour own people again, and because it is a holy war. That must be it.Now that it is really come, I see it all differently. I see things Ihad not thought about before. They frighten me," she said.

The Prince raised his head and faced the girl, clasping the end of hiswhip nervously in his hand. "If we should win the island for theKing," he said, "I believe it will make a great change in me. I shallbe able to go freely then to my home, as you say, to live there always,to give up the life I have led on the Continent. It has been a foolishlife—a dog's life—and I have no one to blame for it but myself. Imade it worse than it need to have been. But if we win, I havepromised myself that I will not return to it; and if we fall I shallnot return to it, for the reason that I shall have been killed. Ishall have much power if we win. When I say much power, I mean muchpower in Messina, in that little corner of the world, and I wish to useit worthily and well. I am afraid I should not have thought of it," hewent on, naively, as though he were trying to be quite fair, "had notFather Paul pointed out to me what I should do, how I could raise thepeople and stop the abuses which made them drive us from the island.The people must be taxed less heavily, and the money must be spent forthem and not for us, on roads and harbors and schools, not at thePalace on banquets and fetes. These are Father Paul's ideas, notmine,—but now I make them mine." He rose and paced the length of thelittle arbor, his hands clasped behind him and his eyes bent on theground. "Yes, that is what I mean to do," he said. "That is the way Imean to live. And if we fail, I mean to be among those who are to dieon the fortifications of the capital, so that with me the Kalonayfamily will end, and end fighting for the King, as many of my peoplehave done before me. There is no other way. For me there shall be nomore idleness nor exile. I must either live on to help my people, or Imust die with them." He stopped in his walk and regarded the girlclosely. "You may be thinking, it is easy for him to promise this, itis easy to speak of what one will do. I know that. I know that I canpoint back at nothing I have done that gives me any right to ask you tobelieve me now. But I do ask it, for if you believe me—believe what Isay—it makes it easier for me to tell you why after this I must liveworthily. But you know why? You must know; it is not possible thatyou do not know."

He sat down beside her on the bench, leaning forward and crushing hishands together on his knee. "It is because I love you. Because I loveyou so that everything which is not worthy is hateful to me, myselfmost of all. It is the only thing that counts. I used to think I knewwhat love meant; I used to think love was a selfish thing that neededlove in return, that it must be fed on love to live, that it neededvows and tender speeches and caresses, or it would die. I know nowthat when one truly cares, he does not ask whether the other cares ornot. It is what one gives that counts, not what one receives. Youhave given me nothing—nothing—not a word nor a look; yet since I haveknown you I have been more madly happy in just knowing that you livethan I would have been had any other woman in all the world thrownherself into my arms and said she loved me above all other men. I amnot fit to tell you this. But to-night I go to try myself, eithernever to see you again, or to come back perhaps more worthy to loveyou. Think of this when I am gone. Do not speak to me now. I mayhave made you hate me for speaking so, or I may have made you pity me;so let me go not knowing, just loving you, worshipping you, and holdingyou apart and above all other people. I go to fight for you, do youunderstand? Not for our Church, not for my people, but for you, tolive or die for you. And I ask nothing from you but that you will letme love you always."

The Prince bent, and catching up Miss Carson's riding-gloves that laybeside her on the bench, kissed them again and again, and then, risingquickly, walked out of the arbor into the white sunshine, and, withoutturning, mounted his pony and galloped across the burning desert in thedirection of Tangier.

Archie Gordon had not been invited to join the excursion into thecountry, nor would he have accepted it, for he wished to be by himselfthat he might review the situation and consider what lay before him.He sat with his long legs dangling over the broad rampart whichoverlooks the harbor of Tangier. He was whistling meditatively tohimself and beating an accompaniment to the tune with his heels. Atintervals he ceased whistling while he placed a cigar between his teethand pulled upon it thoughtfully, resuming his tune again at the pointwhere it had been interrupted. Below him the waves ran up lazily onthe level beach and sank again, dragging the long sea-weed with them,as they swept against the sharp rocks, and exposed them for an instant,naked and glistening in the sun. On either side of him the townstretched to meet the low, white, sand-hills in a crescent of low,white houses pierced by green minarets and royal palms. A warm sun hadsent the world to sleep at mid-day, and an enforced peace hung over theglaring white town and the sparkling blue sea. Gordon blinked at theglare, but his eyes showed no signs of drowsiness. They were, on thecontrary, awake to all that passed on the high road behind him, and onthe sandy beach at his feet, while at the same time his mind was busilyoccupied in reviewing what had occurred the day before, and inadjusting new conditions. At the hotel he had found that the situationwas becoming too complicated, and that it was impossible to feel sureof the truth of anything, or of the sincerity of anyone. Since theluncheon hour the day before he had become a fellow-conspirator withmen who were as objectionable to him in every way as he knew he wasobnoxious to them. But they had been forced to accept him because, sothey supposed, he had them at the mercy of his own pleasure. He knewtheir secret, and in the legitimate pursuit of his profession he could,if he chose, inform the island of Messina, with the rest of the world,of their intention toward it, and bring their expedition to an end,though he had chosen, as a reward for his silence, to become one ofthemselves. Only the Countess Zara had guessed the truth, that it wasGordon himself who was at their mercy, and that so long as the Americangirl persisted in casting her fortunes with them her old young friendwas only too eager to make any arrangement with them that would keephim at her side.

It was a perplexing position, and Gordon turned it over and over in hismind. Had it not been that Miss Carson had a part in it he would haveenjoyed the adventure, as an adventure, keenly. He had no objectionsto fighting on the side of rascals, or against rascals. He objected tothem only in the calmer moments of private life; and as he was ofcourse ignorant that the expedition was only a make-believe, he felt acertain respect for his fellow-conspirators as men who were willing tostake their lives for a chance of better fortune. But that theirbravery was of the kind which would make them hesitate to rob anddeceive a helpless girl he very much doubted; for he knew that even thebravest of warriors on their way to battle will requisition a herd ofcattle or stop to loot a temple. The day before, Gordon had witnessedthe brief ceremony which attended the presentation of the youngnoblemen from Paris who had volunteered for the expedition in all goodfaith, and he reviewed it and analyzed it as he sat smoking on theramparts.

It had been an impressive ceremony, in spite of the fact that so fewhad taken part in it, but the earnestness of the visitors and theenthusiasm of Kalonay and the priest had made up for the lack ofnumbers. The scene had appealed to him as one of the most dramatic hehad witnessed in the pursuit of a calling in which looking on at realdramas was the most frequent duty, and he had enjoyed the strangemixture of ancient terms of address and titles with the modern mannersof the men themselves. It had interested him to watch Baron Barratbring out the ancient crown and jewelled sceptre which had been theregalia of all the Kings of Messina since the Crusades and spread themout upon a wicker tea-table, from which Niccolas had just removed someempty coffee-cups, half filled with the ends of cigarettes, someyellow-backed novels, and a copy of the Paris Figaro. It was alsointeresting to him to note how the sight of the little heir-apparentaffected both the peasants from the mountains and the young nobles fromthe Club Royale. The former fell upon their knees with the tearsrolling down the furrows in their tanned cheeks, while the littlewise-eyed boy stood clinging to his nurse's skirts with one hand and tohis father's finger with the other, and nodded his head at them gravelylike a toy mandarin.

Then the King had addressed them in a dignified, earnest, and almosteloquent speech, and had promised much and prophesied the best offortunes, and then, at the last, had turned suddenly toward MissCarson, where she stood in the background between her mother and FatherPaul.

"Every cause has its Joan of Arc, or its Maria Theresa," he cried,looking steadfastly at Miss Carson. "No cause has succeeded withoutsome good woman to aid it. To help us, my friends, we have a daughterof the people, as was Joan of Arc, and a queen, as was Maria Theresa,for she comes from that country where every woman is a queen in her ownright, and where the love of liberty is inherent." The King took aquick step backward, and taking Miss Carson's hand drew her forwardbeside him and placed her facing his audience, while the girl made vainefforts to withdraw her hand. "This is she," he said earnestly, "thetrue daughter of the Church who has made it possible for us to returnto our own again. It is due to her that the King of Messina shall sitonce more on his throne; it is through her generosity alone that thechurches will rise from their ruins and that you will once again hearthe Angelus ring across the fields at sunset. Remember her, my friendsand cousins, pray for her as a saint upon earth, and fight gloriouslyto help her to success!"

Gordon had restrained himself with difficulty while this scene wasbeing enacted; he could not bear the thought of the King touching thegirl's hand. He struggled to prevent himself from crying out at thefalse position into which he had dragged her; and yet there wassomething so admirably sincere in the King's words, something socourteous and manly, that it robbed his words of all the theatricaleffect they held, and his tribute to the girl filled even Gordon withan emotion which on the part of the young nobles found expression incheer upon cheer.

Gordon recalled these cheers and the looks of wondering admirationwhich had been turned upon Miss Carson, and he grew so hot at therecollection that he struck the wall beside him savagely with hisclinched fist, and damned the obstinacy of his young and beautifulfriend with a sincerity and vigor that was the highest expression ofhis interest in her behalf.

He threw his cigar into the rampart at his feet and dropped back intothe high road. It was deserted at the time, except for the presence ofa tall, slightly built stranger, who advanced toward him from the citygates. The man was dressed in garments of European fashion and carriedhimself like a soldier, and Gordon put him down at a glance as one ofthe volunteers from Paris. The stranger was walking leisurely,stopping to gaze at the feluccas in the bay, and then turning to lookup at the fortress on the hill. He seemed to have no purpose in hiswalk except the interest of a tourist, and as he drew up even withGordon he raised his helmet politely and, greeting him in English,asked if he were on the right road to the Bashaw's Palace. Gordonpointed to where the white walls of the palace rose above the otherwhite walls about it.

"That is it," he said. "All the roads lead to it. You keep going uphill."

"Thank you," said the stranger. "I see I have taken a long way." Heput his white umbrella in the sand, and, removing his helmet, moppedhis forehead with his handkerchief. "It is a curious old town,Tangier," he said, affably, "but too many hills, is it not so? AlgiersI like better. There is more life."

"Yes, Algiers is almost as good as the boulevards," Gordon assented,"if you like the boulevards. I prefer this place because it isunspoiled. But, as you say, there is not much to do here."

The stranger's eyes fell upon the Hotel Grande Bretagne, which stood aquarter of a mile away from them on the beach.

"That is the Hotel Bretagne, is it not?" he asked. Gordon answered himwith a nod.

"The King Louis of Messina, so the chasseur at the hotel tells me, isstopping there en suite," the stranger added, with an interrogative airof one who volunteers an interesting fact, and who asks if it is trueat the same moment.

"I can't say, I'm sure," Gordon replied. "I only arrived hereyesterday."

The stranger bowed his head in recognition of this piece of personalinformation, and, putting on his helmet, picked up his umbrella asthough to continue his stroll. As he did so his eyes wandered over theharbor and were arrested with apparent interest by the yacht, which laya conspicuous object on the blue water. He pointed at it with hisumbrella.

"One of your English men-of-war is in the harbor, I see. She is verypretty, but not large; not so large as many," he said.

Gordon turned his head obligingly and gazed at the yacht with politeinterest. "Is that a man-of-war? I thought it was a yacht," he said."I'm not familiar with the English war-vessels. I am an American."

"Ah, indeed!" commented the affable stranger. "I am French myself, butI think she is a man-of-war. I saw her guns when I passed on thesteamer from Gibraltar."

Gordon knew that the steamer did not pass within half a mile of wherethe yacht lay at anchor, but he considered it might be possible to seeher decks with the aid of a glass.

"You may be right," he answered, indifferently. As he turned his eyesfrom the boat he saw a woman, dressed in white, and carrying a parasol,leave the gardens of the Hotel Bretagne, and come toward them along thebeach. The Frenchman, following the direction of his eyes, saw heralso, and regarded her instantly with such evident concern that Gordon,who had recognized her even at that distance as the Countess Zara, feltassured that his inquisitor held, as he had already suspected, morethan a tourist's interest in Tangier.

"Well, I will wish you a good-morning," said the Frenchman, hurriedly.

"Good-morning," Gordon replied, and taking a cigar from his case, heseated himself again upon the rampart. As he walked away the strangerglanced back over his shoulder, but Gordon was apparently absorbed inwatching the waves below him, and had lost all interest in his chanceacquaintance. But he watched both the woman and the Frenchman as theyadvanced slowly from opposite directions and drew nearer together, andhe was not altogether surprised, when the in man was within twenty feetof her, to see her start and stand still, and then, with the indecisionof a hunted animal, move uncertainly, and then turn and run in thedirection of the hotel. Something the man apparently called after hercaused her to stop, and Gordon observed them now with undisguisedinterest as they stood conversing together, oblivious of theconspicuous mark they made on the broad white beach under the brilliantsun.

"I wonder what he's up to now?" Gordon mused. "He was trying to pumpme, that's evident, and he certainly recognized the lady, and sheapparently did not want to recognize him. I wonder if he is a rejectedlover, or another conspirator. This is a most amusing place, nothingbut plots and counterplots and—Hello!" he exclaimed aloud. The manhad moved quickly past Madame Zara, and had started toward the hotel,and Zara had held out her hand to him, as though to entreat him toremain. But he did not stop, and she had taken a few uncertain stepsafter him, and had then, much to the American's dismay, fallen limplyon her back on the soft sand. She was not a hundred yards distant fromwhere he sat, and in an instant he had slipped from the wall, anddropped on his hands and knees on the beach below. When Gordon reachedher the Frenchman had returned, and was supporting her head on his kneeand covering her head with her parasol.

"The lady has fainted!" he exclaimed, eagerly. His manner was nolonger one of idle indolence. He was wide awake now and visiblyexcited.

"The sun has been too much for her," he said. "It is most dangerouswalking about at this time of day."

Gordon ran down the beach and scooped up some water in his helmet, anddipping his handkerchief in it bathed her temples and cheek. He hadtime to note that she was a very beautiful girl, and the pallor of herface gave it a touch of gentleness that he had not seen there before.

"I will go to the hotel and bring assistance, said the stranger,uneasily, as the woman showed signs of regaining consciousness.

"No," said Gordon, "you'll stay where you are and shade her with herumbrella. She'll be all right in a minute."

The girl opened her eyes, and looking up saw Gordon bending over her.She regarded him for a moment and made an effort to rise, and in herendeavor to do so her eyes met those of the Frenchman, and with a sharpmoan she shut them again and threw herself from Gordon's knee to thesand.

"Give me that umbrella," said Gordon, "and go stand over there out ofthe way."

The man rose from his knee without showing any resentment and walkedsome little distance away, where he stood with his arms folded, lookingout to sea. He seemed much too occupied with something of personalinterest to concern himself with a woman's fainting-spell. The girllifted herself slowly to her elbow, and then, before Gordon couldassist her, rose with a quick, graceful movement and stood erect uponher feet. She placed a detaining hand for an instant on the American'sarm.

"Thank you very much," she said. "I am afraid I have been imprudent ingoing out into the sun." Her eyes were fixed upon the Frenchman, whostood moodily staring at the sea and tearing one of his finger-nailswith his teeth. He seemed utterly oblivious of their presence. Thegirl held out her hand for the parasol she had dropped and took it fromGordon with a bow.

"May I walk back with you to your hotel?" he asked. "Unless thisgentleman——"

"Thank you," the girl said, in tones which the Frenchman could haveeasily overheard had he been listening. "I am quite able to go alonenow; it is only a step."

She was still regarding the Frenchman closely; but as he was obviouslyunconscious of them she moved so that Gordon hid her from him, and inan entirely different voice she said, speaking rapidly,—

"You are Mr. Gordon, the American who joined us last night. That manis a spy from Messina. He is Renauld, the Commander-in-Chief of theirarmy. He must be gotten away from here at once. It is a matter for aman to attend to. Will you do it?"

"How do you know this?" Gordon asked. "How do you know he is GeneralRenauld? I want to be certain."

The girl tossed her head impatiently.

"He was pointed out to me at Messina. I saw him there in command at areview. He has just spoken to me—that was what frightened me intothat fainting-spell. I didn't think I was so weak," she said, shakingher head. "He offered me a bribe to inform him of our plans. I tellyou he is a spy."

"That's all right," said Gordon, reassuringly; "you go back to thehotel now and send those guards here on a run. I'll make a chargeagainst him and have him locked up until after we sail to-night.Hurry, please; I'll stay here."

Gordon felt a pleasurable glow of excitement. It was his nature tothrow himself into everything he did and to at once become a partisan.It was a quality which made his writings attractive to the reader, andan object of concern to his editor. At the very word "spy," and atthis first hint of opposition to the cause in which he had but justenlisted, he thrilled as though it had always been his own, and heregarded the Frenchman with a personal dislike as sudden as it wasunfounded.

The Frenchman had turned and was walking in the direction of the citygate. His eyes were bent on the sandy beach which stretched beforehim, and he made his way utterly unmindful of the waves that stole upto his feet and left little pools of water in his path. Gordonbeckoned impatiently to the two soldiers who came running toward him atthe hotel, and moved forward to meet them the sooner. He took one ofthem by the wrist and pointed with his other hand at the retreatingfigure of the Frenchman.

"That man," he said, "is one of the King's enemies. The King is indanger while that man is here. Your duty is to protect the King, so hegives this foreigner into your charge."

The soldier nodded his head in assent. "The King himself sent us," hereplied.

"You will place him in the Civil Prison," Gordon continued, "until theKing is safe on his yacht, and you will not allow him to send for theFrench Consul-General. If he sees the Consul-General he will tell hima great many lies about you, and a great war-ship will come and yourBashaw will be forced to pay the foreigners much money. I will go withyou and tell this man in his own tongue what you are going to do withhim."

They walked hurriedly after the Frenchman, and when they had overtakenhim Gordon halted and bowed.

"One moment, please," he said. "These soldiers have an order for yourarrest. I speak the language, and if you have anything to say to themI will interpret for you."

The Frenchman stared from Gordon to the guards and then laughedincredulously but with no great confidence. He had much to say, but hedemanded to know first why he should be arrested.

"The lady you insulted," Gordon answered, gravely, "happened,unfortunately for you, to be one of the King's guests. She hascomplained to him, and he has sent these soldiers to put you where youcannot trouble her again. You see, sir, you cannot annoy women withimpunity even in this barbarous country."

"Insult her! I did not insult her," the man retorted. "That is notthe reason I am arrested."

"You annoyed her so much that she fainted. I saw you," said Gordon,backing away with the evident purpose of abandoning the foreigner tohis guards.

"She has lied," the man cried, "either to the King or to me. I do notknow which, but I am here to find out. That is why I came to Tangier,and I intend to learn the truth."

"You've begun rather badly," Gordon answered, as he still retreated."In the Civil Prison your field of investigation will be limited."

The Frenchman took a hasty step toward him, shrugging off the hand oneof the soldiers had placed on his shoulder.

"Are you the Prince Kalonay, sir?" he demanded. "But surely not," headded.

"No, I am not the Prince," Gordon answered. "I bid you good-morning,sir."

"Then you are on the other side," the man called after him eagerly,with a tone of great relief. "I have been right from the very first.I see it plainly. It is a double plot, and you are one of that woman'sdupes. Listen to me—I beg of you, listen to me—I have a story totell."

Gordon paused and looked back at the man over his shoulder, doubtfully.

"It's like the Arabian Nights," he said, with a puzzled smile. "Therewas once a rich merchant of Bagdad and the Sultan was going to executehim, but they put off the execution until he could tell them the storyof the Beautiful Countess and the French Envoy. I am sorry," he added,shaking his head, "but I cannot listen now. I must not be seen talkingto you at all, and everyone can see us here."

They were as conspicuous figures on the flat surface of the beach astwo palms in a desert, and Gordon was most anxious to escape, for hewas conscious that he could be observed from every point in the town.A hundred yards away, on the terrace of the hotel, he saw the King,Madame Zara, Barrat, and Erhaupt standing together watching them.

"If the American leaves him now, we are safe," the King was saying. Hespoke in a whisper, as though he feared that even at that distanceGordon and the Frenchman could overhear his words. "But if he remainswith him he will find out the truth, and that means ruin. He will ruinus."

"Look, he is coming this way," Zara answered. "He is leaving him. Thedanger is past."

The Frenchman raised his eyes and saw the four figures grouped closelytogether on the terrace.

"See, what did I tell you?" he cried. "She is with the King now. Itis a plot within a plot, and I believe you know it," he added,furiously. "You are one of these brave blackmailers yourself—that iswhy you will not let me speak."

"Blackmailers!" said Gordon. "Confound your impudence, what thedevil do you mean by that?"

But the Frenchman was staring angrily at the distant group on theterrace, and Gordon turned his eyes in the same direction. Somethinghe saw in the strained and eager attitude of the four conspiratorsmoved him to a sudden determination.

"That will do, you must go," he commanded, pointing with his arm towardthe city gate; and before the Frenchman could reply, he gave an orderto the guards, and they seized the foreigner roughly by either arm andhurried him away.

"Thank God!" exclaimed the King, piously. "They have separated, andthe boy thinks he is rendering us great service. Well, and so he is,the young fool."

The group on the piazza remained motionless, watching Gordon as heleisurely lit a cigar and stood looking out at the harbor until theFrenchman had disappeared inside the city wall. Then he turned andwalked slowly after him.

"I do not like that. I do not like his following him," said Barrat,suspiciously.

"That is nothing," answered the King. "He is going to play the spy andsee that the man is safely in jail. Then he will return and report tous. We must congratulate him warmly. He follows at a discreetdistance, you observe, and keeps himself well out of sight. The boyknows better than to compromise himself by being seen in conversationwith the man. Of course, if Renauld is set free we must say we had nopart in his arrest, that the American made the arrest on his ownauthority. What a convenient tool the young man is. Why, his comingreally frightened us at first, and now—now we make a cat's-paw ofhim." The King laughed merrily. "We undervalue ourselves sometimes, dowe not?"

"He is a nice boy," said Zara. "I feel rather sorry for him. Helooked so anxious and distressed when I was so silly as to faint on thebeach just now. He handled me as tenderly as a woman would havedone—not that women have generally handled me tenderly," she added.

"I was thinking the simile was rather misplaced," said the King.

Gordon passed the city wall and heard the gates swing to behind him.The Frenchman and his two captors were just ahead, toiling heavily upthe steep and narrow street. Gordon threw his cigar from him and ranleaping over the huge cobbles to the Frenchman's side and touched himon the shoulder.

"We are out of sight of the hotel, now, General," he said. He pointedto the dark, cool recesses of a coffee-shop and held back the rug thathung before it. "Come in here," he said, "and tell me that story."

IV

Baron Barrat was suspicious by education—his experience of life andhis own conduct had tended to render him so; and accordingly when,three hours after he had seen Gordon apparently commit the Frenchofficer to jail, he found them leaving a cafe in the most friendly andamicable spirit, he wasted no time in investigation, but hurried atonce to warn the King.

"What we feared would happen, has happened," he said. "The Frenchmanhas told Gordon that Zara and Kalonay sold the secret of theexpedition, and Gordon will be coming here to warn you of it. Now,what are you going to do? We must act quickly."

"I shall refuse to believe the Frenchman, of course," said the King."I shall ask Zara in his presence to answer his charges, and she willtell him he lies. That is all there will be of it. What does itmatter what he says? We sail at midnight. We can keep him quiet untilthen."

"If he is troublesome I can call for help from this room, and theservants of the hotel and the guards will rush in and find usstruggling together. We will charge him with an attempt atassassination, and this time he surely will go to jail. By to-morrowmorning we shall be many miles at sea."

"But he can cable to Messina, by way of Gibraltar, and head us off,"objected Barrat.

"What can he cable?" demanded the King. "Nothing the people of theRepublic do not already know. It is our friends here that must notfind us out. That is the main thing. Thank Heaven!" he exclaimed,"Kalonay and Paul are out of the way, and those crazy boys from Paris.We will settle it here among ourselves in five minutes."

"And the American?" asked Zara. "He knows, he will come with him.Suppose he believes, suppose he believes that Kalonay and I have soldyou out, but suspects that you know it?"

"The American can go to the devil," said the King. "Confound him andhis insolence. I'll have him in the prison too, if he interferes. OrErhaupt can pick a quarrel with him here and fight it out behind thesand-hills before the others get back from their picnic. He has doneas much for me before."

Zara stood up. She was trembling slightly, and she glanced fearfullyfrom Erhaupt to the King.

"You will not do that," she said.

"And why not, madame?" demanded Louis.

"Because it will be murder," Zara whispered. "He will murder him as hedid that boy in the Park at Pesth."

"What does the woman mean?" growled the German. "Is she mad? Send herto her room, Louis."

"You know what I mean," Zara answered, her voice rising, in herexcitement. "You fired before they gave the word. I know you did.Oh, Louis," she cried, "you never warned me it might come to this. Iam afraid. I am afraid to meet that man——"

She gave a sudden cry. "And Kalonay!" She held out her handsappealingly. "Indeed," she cried, "do not let Kalonay question me."

"Silence!" commanded the King. "You are acting like a fool." Headvanced toward her, and clasped her wrist firmly in his hand. "Nonerves, now," he said. "I'll not have it. You shall meet Kalonay, andyou shall swear that he is in the plot against me. If you fail us now,we are ruined. As it is, we are sure to lose the bribe from theRepublic, but we may still get Miss Carson's money if you play yourpart. It is your word and the word of the Frenchman against Kalonay's.And we have the paper signed by you for Kalonay as evidence. Have yougot it with you?"

Zara bowed her head. "It is always with me," she answered.

"Good," said the King. "It will be a difficult chance, but if youstand to your story, and we pretend to believe you, the others maybelieve you, too."

"But I cannot," Zara cried. "I know I cannot. I tell you if you putme face to face with Kalonay, I shall fail you. I shall break down.They will see that I am lying. Send me away. Send me away before theycome. Tell them I saw the Frenchman, and suspected I had been foundout, and that I have gone away. Tell them you don't know where I am."

"I believe she's right," Erhaupt said. "She will do us more harm thangood. Let her go to her room and wait there."

"She will remain where she is," said the King, sternly. "And she willkeep her courage and her wits about her, or——"

He was interrupted by an exclamation from Barrat. "Whatever you meanto do, you must do it at once," he said, grimly. He was standing atthe window which overlooked the beach. "Here they come now," hecontinued. "The American has taken no chances, he is bringing anaudience with him."

The King and Erhaupt ran to the window, and peered over Barrat'sshoulder.

Advancing toward them along the beach, some on foot, and some onhorseback, were all the members of the expedition, those who had beenof the riding-party and those who had remained in Tangier. Gordon andthe Frenchman Renauld were far in the lead, walking by themselves andspeaking earnestly together; Father Paul was walking with Mrs. Carsonand her daughter, and Kalonay was riding with two of the volunteers,the Count de Rouen and Prince Henri of Poitiers.

When the King and Erhaupt turned from the window the Countess Zara haddisappeared. "It is better so," said Erhaupt; "she was so badlyfrightened she would have told the truth."

The King stood leaning on the back of a large arm-chair. "Well, themoment has come, it is our last chance," he said. "Send for the CrownPrince, Baron. I shall be discovered in the act of taking a tenderfarewell of my son."

Barrat made an eager gesture of dissent.

"I would not do that," he cried. "If we are to make charges againstthe jackal do not have the boy present; the boy must not hear them.You know how Kalonay worships the child, and it would enrage him moreto be exposed before the Prince than before all the rest of the world.He will be hard enough to handle without that. Don't try him too far."

"You are absurd, Barrat," exclaimed the King. "The boy won'tunderstand what is said."

"No, but the Jackal will," Barrat returned. "You don't understand him,Louis, he is like a woman; he has sentiment and feelings, and when weall turn on him he will act like a madman. Keep the boy out of hissight, I tell you. It's the only thing he cares for in the world. Hehas been a better father to him than you ever have been."

"That was quite natural; that was because it was his duty," said theKing, calmly. "A Kalonay has always been the protector and tutor ofthe heir-apparent. If this one chooses to give his heart with hisservice, that is not my concern. Why, confound them, they all thinkmore of the child than they do of me. That is why I need him by menow."

Barrat shook his head. "I tell you it will make trouble," hepersisted. "Kalonay will not stand it. He and the child are more likecomrades than a tutor and his pupil. Why, Kalonay would rather sitwith the boy in the Champs-Elysees and point out the people as they goby than drive at the side of the prettiest woman in Paris. He alwaystreats him as though he saw the invisible crown upon his head; he willthrow over any of us to stay in the nursery and play tin soldiers withhim. And when he was ill—" Barrat nodded his head significantly."You remember."

"That will do," said the King. "We have no time to consider the finerfeelings of the jackal; he is to be sacrificed, and that is all thereis of it. The presence of the child may make him more unmanageable,but it will certainly make it easier for me. So go, bring the boy hereas I bid you."

Barrat left the room and returned immediately, followed by the CrownPrince and his nurse. The Prince was a dark, handsome little fellow offour years. His mother had died when he was born, and he had neverplayed with children of his own age, and his face was absurdly wise andwistful; but it lighted with a sweet and grateful smile when anyoneshowed him kindness or sought to arouse his interest. To the CrownPrince Kalonay was an awful and wonderful being. He was the one personwho could make him laugh out of pure happiness and for no reason, as achild should laugh. And people who had seen them together asked whichof the princes was the older of the two. When the child entered theroom, clinging to Barrat's finger, he carried in his other hand awooden spade and bucket, still damp with sand, and he was dressed in ashabby blue sailor suit which left his little legs bare, and exposedthe scratches and bruises of many falls. A few moments later, when theconspirators entered the King's salon, preceded by Erhaupt, they foundthe boy standing by his father's knee. The King had his hand upon thechild's head, and had been interrupted apparently in a discourse on thedignity of kingship, for the royal crown of Messina had been broughtout and stood beside him on the table, and his other hand rested on itreverently. It was an effective tableau, and the visitors observed itwith varying emotions, but with silence.

The King rose, taking his son's hand in his, and bowed, lookinginquiringly from Barrat to the Prince Kalonay.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" he asked. "Was itdiscreet of you to come together in this way? But you are mostwelcome. Place chairs for the ladies, Barrat."

Kalonay glanced at the others, and they nodded to him as though to makehim their spokesman. He pointed at Gordon with his cap.

"We are here on the invitation of this gentleman, your Majesty," hesaid. "He took it upon himself to send after those of us who had goneinto the country, and came in person for the others who remained intown. He tells us he has news of the greatest importance tocommunicate, which he cannot disclose except to you, and in thepresence of all of those who are to take part in the expedition. Wedecided to accompany him here, as he asked us, and to leave it to yourMajesty to say whether or not you wished us to remain." Kalonay smiledin apology at the King, and the King answered him with a smile.

"The procedure is perhaps unconventional," the King said, "but inAmerica they move quickly. No doubt our young companion has acted ashe thought was for the best. If he has taken a liberty, the nature ofhis news will probably excuse him. Perhaps, Mr. Gordon," he added,turning to the American, "you had better first tell me what thisdiscovery is, and I will decide whether it is best to discuss it inopen council."

Gordon did not appear to be the least disturbed by the criticismKalonay and the King had passed upon his conduct. He only smiledpleasantly when the King had finished speaking, and showed noinclination to accept a private audience.

"What I have to say, your Majesty," he began, "is this. I have learnedthat all the secrets of your expedition have been sold to the Republicof Messina. One of those now present in this room is charged withhaving sold them. Shall I go on," he asked, "or do you still think itadvisable for anyone to leave the room?"

He paused and glanced from the King to the double row of conspirators,who were standing together in a close semicircle facing the King andhimself. The instant he ceased speaking there rose from their ranks anoutburst of consternation, of anger, and of indignant denial. TheKing's spirits rose within him at the sound, although he frowned andmade a gesture as though to command silence.

"Mr. Gordon, this is a serious charge you make," he said, smilinggrimly. "One that may cost you a great deal—it might cost you yourlife perhaps." He paused significantly, and there was a secondoutburst, this time from the younger men, which came so suddenly thatit was as though Louis had played upon certain chords on a keyboard,and the sounds he wanted had answered to his touch.

"Pardon me, that is not the question," said Gordon. "That I makecharges or run risks in making charges is not important. That yourexpedition has failed before it has even started is, however, of greatimportance, at least so it sees to me."

There was a movement in the circle, and Father Paul pushed his wayforward from his place beside Miss Carson's chair. He was so greatlymoved that when he spoke his voice was harsh and broken. "What is yourauthority for saying we have failed?" he demanded.

Gordon bowed gravely and turned and pointed to the Frenchman. "Thisgentleman," he said, "is General Renauld, Commander-in-Chief of thearmy of Messina. He is my authority. He knows all that you mean todo. If he knows it, it is likely, is it not, that his army and thePresident of the Republic know it also, and that when we attempt toland they will be waiting for us."

The King silenced the second outburst that followed this by rising andholding up his hand.

"Silence! I believe I can explain," he said. He was smiling, and hisbearing was easy and so full of assurance that the exclamations andwhispers died away on the instant. "I am afraid I see what hashappened," the King said. "But there need be no cause for alarm. Thisgentleman is, as Mr. Gordon says, the Commander-in-Chief of theMessinian army, and it is true he suspected that an armed force wouldinvade the island. It is not strange that he should have suspected it,and it needed no traitor to enlighten him. The visit of Father Pauland the Prince Kalonay in the yacht, and their speeches inciting thepeople to rebellion, would have warned the government that anexpedition might soon follow. The return of our yacht to this placehas no doubt been made known in Messina through the public press, andGeneral Renauld followed the yacht here to learn what he could of ourplans—of our intended movements. He came here to spy on us, and as aspy I ordered Mr. Gordon to arrest him this morning on any charge hepleased, and to place him out of our way until after to-night, when weshould have sailed. I chose Mr. Gordon to undertake this servicebecause he happened to speak the language of the country, and it wasnecessary to deal directly with the local authorities without theintervention of an outsider. What has happened is only too evident.The spy, who when he came here only suspected, now, as Mr. Gordon says,knows the truth, and he could have learned it only from one person, towhom he has no doubt paid a pretty price for the information." TheKing took a step forward and pointed with his hand at the American. "Igave that man into your keeping, sir," he cried, "but I had youwatched. Instead of placing him in jail you took him to a cafe andremained there with him for three hours, and from that cafe you camedirectly here to this room. If he knows the truth, he learned it inthat cafe, and he learned it from you!" There was a ring of suchearnestness and sincerity in the King's speech, and he delivered itwith such indignation and bitter contempt that a shout of relief, ofapprobation and conviction, went up from his hearers, and fell asquickly on the words as the applause of an audience drowns out the lastnote of a great burst of song. Barrat, in the excess of his relief,turned his back sharply on the King, glancing sideways at Erhaupt andshaking his head in speechless admiration.

"He is wonderful, simply wonderful," Erhaupt muttered; "he would havemade a great actor or a great diplomat."

"He is wasted as a King," whispered Barrat.

There was a menacing movement on the part of the younger men towardGordon and General Renauld, which the King noted, but which he made noeffort to check. Neither Gordon nor General Renauld gave any sign thatthey observed it. The American was busily engaged in searching hispockets, and from one of these he produced two pieces of paper, whichhe held up above his head, so that those in the room might see them.

"One moment, please," he began, and then waited until the tumult in theroom had ceased. "Again, I must point out to you," he said, in brisk,business-like tones, "that we are digressing. The important thing isnot who did, or did not, sell out the expedition, but that it is indanger of failing altogether. What his Majesty says is in partcorrect. I did not take this gentleman to jail; I did take him to acafe, and there he told me much more concerning the expedition than Ihad learned from those directly interested. His information, he toldme, had been sold to the Republic by one who visited the island and whoclaimed to act for one other. I appreciated the importance of what hesaid, and I also guessed that my word and his unsupported might bedoubted, as you have just doubted it. So I took the liberty ofverifying what General Renauld told me by cabling to the President ofMessina."

There was a shout of consternation at these words, but Gordon's mannerwas so confident and the audacity of his admission so surprised hishearers that they were silent again immediately, and waited, withbreathless interest, while Gordon unfolded one of the pieces of paper.

"This is a copy of the cablegram I sent the President," he said, "andto which, with his permission, I signed General Renauld's name. It isas follows:—

The President. The Palace, Messina.—They will not believe you arefully informed. Cable at once the exact hour when they will leaveTangier, at what hour they expect to land, at what place they expect toland, what sum you have promised to pay for this information, and thenames of those to whom it is to be paid.

RENAULD.

Gordon lowered the paper. "Is that quite clear?" he asked. "Do youfollow me? I have invited the enemy himself to inform you of yourplans, and to tell you who has betrayed them. His answer, which wasreceived a half hour ago, removes all suspicion from any save those henames. General Renauld and myself cease to be of the least consequencein the matter; we are only messengers. It is the President of Messinawho will speak to you now. If you still doubt that the secret of yourexpedition is known to the President you will have to doubt him."

The King sprang quickly to his feet and struck the arm of his chairsharply with his open hand.

"I shall not permit that message to be read," he said. "If we have atraitor here, he is a traitor against me. And I shall deal with him asI see fit, in private."

There was a murmur of disappointment and of disapproval even, and theKing again struck the arm of his chair for silence. Kalonay advancedtoward him, shaking his head and holding out his hands in protest.

"Your Majesty, I beseech you," he began. "This concerns us all," hecried. "It is too evident that we have been betrayed; but it is notfair to any of us that we should all lie under suspicion, as we mustunless it is told who has been guilty of this infamy. I beg yourMajesty to reconsider. There is no one in this room who is not in oursecret, and whoever has betrayed us must be with us here and now. I,who have an interest second only to your own, ask that that cablegrambe read."

There was a murmur of approbation from the conspirators, andexclamations of approval and entreaty. Miss Carson, in her excitement,had risen to her feet and was standing holding her mother's hand. TheKing glanced uncertainly at Kalonay, and then turned to Barrat andErhaupt as if in doubt.

Gordon's eyes were fixed for a moment on Kalonay with a strange andpuzzled expression. Then he gave a short sigh of relief, and turningquickly searched the faces of those around him. What he saw seemed toconfirm him in his purpose, for he folded the paper and placed it inhis pocket. "His Majesty is right," he said. "I shall not read this."

Kalonay and Father Paul turned upon him angrily. "You have no choicein the matter, sir," Kalonay cried. "It has passed entirely out ofyour hands."

"I beg your Majesty that the cablegram be read," the priest demanded,in a voice that held less the tone of a request than of a command.

"I shall not read it," persisted Gordon, "because the person chieflyconcerned is not present."

"That is all the more reason for reading it," said Kalonay. "YourMajesty must reconsider."

The King whispered to Barrat, and the others waited in silence thatexpressed their interest more clearly than a chorus of questions wouldhave done.

"It shall be as you ask," the King said, at last. "You may read themessage, Mr. Gordon."

Gordon opened the paper and looked at it for some seconds of time witha grave and perplexed expression, and then, with a short breath, as onewho takes a plunge, read it aloud. "This is it," he said.

To General Renauld. Cable Office, Tangier.—They leave Tangier Tuesdayat midnight, they land at daybreak Thursday morning on the south beachbelow the old breakwater. The secret of the expedition was sold us forthree hundred thousand francs by the Countess Zara and the PrinceKalonay.

Gordon stuck the paper in his pocket, and, crossing to Kalonay, heldout his hand, with a smile. "I don't believe it, of course," he said;"but you would have it."

Kalonay neither saw the gesture nor heard the words. He was turning inbewilderment from the King to Father Paul, and he laughed uncertainly.

"What nonsense is this?" he demanded. "Whose sorry trick is this? Thelie is not even ingenious."

General Renauld had not spoken since he had entered the room, but nowhe advanced in front of Kalonay and faced him with a threateninggesture.

"The President of Messina does not lie, sir," he said, sternly. "Imyself saw the Countess Zara write out that paper, which I and otherssigned, and in which we agreed to pay to her and to you the money youasked for betraying your King."

Father Paul pressed his hand heavily on Kalonay's shoulder. "Do notanswer him," he commanded. Gordon had moved to Kalonay's other side,and the three men had unconsciously assumed an attitude of defence, andstood back to back in a little group facing the angry circle thatencompassed them. The priest raised his arm to command a hearing.

"Where is Madame Zara?" he cried.

"Ah, where indeed?" echoed the King, sinking back into his chair. "Shehas fled. It is all too evident now; she has betrayed us and she hasfled."

But on his words, as if in answer to the priest's summons, the curtainsthat hid the door into the King's private room were pulled to one side,and Madame Zara appeared between them, glancing fearfully at theexcited crowd before her. As she stood hesitating on the threshold,she swayed slightly and clutched the curtains for a moment as thoughfor support. The priest advanced, and led her to the centre of theroom. She held a folded paper in her hand, which she gave to him insilence.

"You have heard what has passed?" he asked, with a toss of his headtoward the heavy curtains. The woman raised her head and bowed. Thepriest unfolded the paper.

"Am I to read this?" he asked. The woman bowed again.

There was silence in the room while the priest's eyes ran quickly overthe paper. He crushed it in his hand.

"It is as General Renauld says," he exclaimed. "In this the Republicof Messina agrees to pay the Countess Zara and the Prince Kalonay threehundred thousand francs, if the expedition is withdrawn after it hasmade a pretence of landing on the shores of Messina."

He took a step forward. "Madame Zara," he cried, in a tone of warning,"do you pretend that the Prince Kalonay was your accomplice in this;that he knew what you meant to do?"

Madame Zara once more bowed her head.

"No! You must speak," commanded the priest. "Answer me!"

Zara hesitated, in evident distress, and glanced appealingly at theKing; but the expression on his face was one of grief and ofunrelenting virtue. "I do," she said, at last, in a low voice."Kalonay did know. He thought the revolution would not succeed; hethought it would fail, and so—and so—and we needed money. They mademe—I, O my God, I cannot—I cannot!" she cried, suddenly, sinking onher knees and hiding her face with her hands.

Kalonay stepped toward her and lifted her gently to her feet; but whenshe looked and saw who it was that held her, she gave a cry and pulledherself free. She staggered and would have fallen, had not Gordoncaught and held her by the arm. The King rose from his chair andpointed at the shrinking figure of the woman.

"Stand aside from her," he said, sternly. "Why should we pity her,what pity has she shown for us—for me? She has robbed me of myinheritance. But let her go, she is a woman; we cannot punish her.Her sins rest on her own head. But you—you," he cried, turningfiercely on Kalonay, his voice rising to a high and melancholy key,"you whom I have heaped with honors, whom I have leaned upon as on thearm of a brother, that you should have sold me for silver, that youshould have turned Judas!"

The crowd of volunteers, bewildered by the rapid succession of events,and confused and rendered desperate by the failure of their expedition,caught up the word, and pressing forward with a rush, surroundedKalonay in an angry circle, crying "Judas!" "Traitor!" and "Coward!"

Kalonay turned from side to side. On some he smiled bitterly insilence, and at others he broke out into swift and fiercedenunciations; but the men around him crowded closer and would notpermit him to be heard. He had turned upon them, again challengingthem to listen, when there was an opening in the circle and the menstepped back, and Miss Carson pushed her way among them and halted atKalonay's side. She did not look at him, but at the men about him.She was the only calm figure in the group, and her calmness at such acrisis, and her youth, and the fineness and fearlessness of her beauty,surprised them into a sudden quiet. There was instantly a cry fororder, and the men stood curious and puzzled, watching to see what shewould do.

"Gentlemen," she said, in a clear, grave voice. "Gentlemen," sherepeated, sharply, as a few murmurs still greeted her, "if you aregentlemen, let this lady speak. She has not finished." She crossedquickly and took the Countess Zara by the hand. "Go on, madame," sheurged, gently. "Do not be afraid. You say they made you do it. Whomade you do it? You have told us a part of the truth. Now tell us thewhole truth." For a moment the girl seemed much the older of the two,and as Zara glanced up at her fearfully, she smiled to reassure her,and stroked the woman's hand with her own. "Who made you do it?" sherepeated. "Not the Prince Kalonay, surely. You cannot hope to make usbelieve that. We trust him absolutely. Who was it, then?"

The King sprang forward with an oath; his apathy and mock dignity hadfallen from him like a mask. His face was mottled, and his viciouslittle eyes flashed with fear and anger. Erhaupt crowded close behindhim, crouching like a dog at his heels.

"She has lied enough already," the King cried. "We will not listen toher. Take her away."

"Yes, let her go," shouted Erhaupt, with a laugh. "If she had been adecent woman——"

There was a quick parting in the group and the sound of a heavy blow asKalonay flung himself upon Erhaupt and struck him in the face, so thathe staggered and fell at length upon the floor. Gordon stood over him,his fingers twitching at his side.

"Stand up, you bully," he said, "and get out of this, before we throwyou out."

Zara's face had turned a pitiful crimson, but her eyes flashed andburned with resolve and indignation. She stood erect and menacing,like an angry goddess, and more beautiful in her indignation than theyhad ever seen her.

"Now, I shall tell them the truth," she said, sternly. "That man," shecried, pointing her finger at the King, "that man whom they call aKing—that man who would have sacrificed the only friend who serves himunselfishly—is the man who sold your secret to the enemy. It was hewho made me do it. He sent me to Messina, and while the priest and thePrince Kalonay were working in the south, I sold them to the governmentat the capital. Barrat knew it, Erhaupt knew it, the King himselfplanned it—to get money. He has robbed all of his own people; he hadmeant to rob this young girl; and he is so mean and pitiful a creaturethat to save himself he now tries to hide behind the skirts of a woman,and to sacrifice her,—the woman who has given her soul to him. Andfor this—my God!" she cried, her voice rising in an accent of agonyand bitter contempt—"for this!"

There was a grim and momentous silence in the room while Zara turned,and without waiting to learn what effect her words might have, made herway swiftly through the crowd and passed on out of the room and on tothe terrace beyond.

The King crouched back in his chair like a common criminal in the dock,glancing fearfully from under his lowered eyebrows at the faces abouthim, and on none did he see the least question of doubt but that Zarahad at last spoken the truth.

"She lies," the King muttered, as though answering their unspokenthoughts, "the woman lies."

There was no movement from the men about him. Shame for him, and griefand bitter disappointment for themselves, showed on the face of each.From outside a sea-breeze caught up the sand of the beach and drove itwhispering against the high windows, and the beat of the waves upon theshores filled out and marked the silence of the room.

The Prince Kalonay stepped from the circle and stood for a momentbefore the King, regarding him with an expression of grief and bitterirony. The King's eyes rose insolently, and faltered, and sank.

"For many years, your Majesty," the Prince said, but so solemnly thatit was as though he were a judge upon the bench, or a priest speakingacross an open grave, "the Princes of my house have served the Kings ofyours. In times of war they fought for the King in battle, theybeggared themselves for him in times of peace; our women sold theirjewels for the King, our men gave him their lives, and in all of thesecenturies the story of their loyalty, of their devotion, has had butone sequel, and has met with but one reward,—ingratitude andselfishness and treachery. You know how I have served you, Louis. Youknow that I gave up my fortune and my home to go into exile with you,and I did that gladly. But I did more than that. I did more than anyking or any man has the right to expect of any other man. I servedyour idle purposes so well that you, yourself, called me your jackal,the only title your Majesty has ever bestowed that was deserved. Thereis no low thing nor no base thing that I have not done for you. Toserve your pleasures, to gain you money, I have sunken so low that allthe royal blood in Europe could not make me clean. But there is alimit to what a man may do for his King, and to the loyalty a King mayhave the right to demand. And to-day and here, with me, the story ofour devotion to your House ends, and you go your way and I go mine, andthe last of my race breaks his sword and throws it at your feet, and isdone with you and yours forever."

Even those in the room who held no sympathy in their hearts for thesentiment that had inspired the young man, felt that at that moment andin their hearing he had renounced what was to him his religion and hisfaith, and on the faces of all was the expression of a deep pity andconcern. Their own adventure, in the light of his grief and bitternessof spirit, seemed selfish and little, and they stood motionless, in anawed and sorrowful silence.

The tense strain of the moment was broken suddenly by the advent on thescene of an actor who had, in the rush of events, been neglected andforgotten. The little Crown Prince had stood clinging to his nurse'sskirts, an uncomprehending spectator of what was going forward. But henow advanced slowly, feeling that the silence invited him to claim hisfather's notice. He halted beside the chair in which Louis sat, hishead bent on his hands, and made an effort to draw himself up to hisfather's knee.

But the King pushed him down, and hid his face from him. The childturned irresolutely, with a troubled countenance, and, looking up, sawthat the attention of all was fixed upon him. At this discovery asudden flood of shyness overtook him, and he retreated hastily untilhis eyes fell on the Prince Kalonay, standing alone, with his own eyesturned resolutely away. There was a breathless hush in the room as thechild, with a happy sigh, ran to his former friend and comrade, andreached up both his arms. The tableau was a familiar one to those whoknew them, and meant only that the child asked to be lifted up andswung to the man's shoulder; but following as it did on what had justpassed, the gesture and the attitude carried with them the significanceof an appeal. Kalonay, as though with a great effort, lowered his eyesto the upturned face of the child below him, but held himself back andstood stiffly erect. A sharp shake of the head, as though he arguedwith himself, was the only sign he gave of the struggle that was goingon within him.

At this second repulse, the child's arms dropped to his side, his lipsquivered, and he stood, a lonely little figure, glancing up at thecircle of men about him, and struggling to press back the tears thatcame creeping to his eyes.

Kalonay regarded him steadfastly for a brief moment, as though he sawhim as a stranger, searching his face with eyes as pitiful as thechild's own; and then, with a sudden, sharp cry, the Prince dropped onhis knee and caught the child toward him, crushing him against hisheart, and burying his face on his shoulder. There was a shout ofexultation from the nobles, and an uttered prayer from the priest, andin a moment the young men had crowded in around them, struggling to bethe first to kiss the child's hands, and to ask pardon of the man whoheld him in his arms.

"Gentlemen," Kalonay cried, his voice laughing through his tears, "weshall still sail for the island of Messina. They shall not say of usthat we visited the sins of the father on a child. I was weak, myfriends, and I was credulous. I thought I could break the tradition ofcenturies. But our instincts are stronger than our pride, and theHouse I have always served I shall serve to the last." He swung theCrown Prince high upon his shoulder, and held his other arm above hishead. "You will help me place this child upon his throne," hecommanded, and the room rang with cheers. "You will appeal to hispeople," he cried. "Do you not think they will rise to thisstandard-bearer, will they not rally to his call? For he is a truePrince, my comrades, who comes to them with no stain of wrong ortreachery, without a taint, as untarnished as the white snow that liessummer and winter in the hollow of our hills, `and a child shall leadus, and a child shall set them free.' To the yacht!" he shouted. "Wewill sail at once, and while they wait for us to be betrayed into theirhands at the north, we shall be landing in the south, and thousandswill be hurrying to our standard."

His last words were lost in a tumult of cheers and cries, and the youngmen poured out upon the terrace, running toward the shore, and fillingthe soft night-air with shouts of "Long live the Prince Regent!" "Longlive our King!"

As the room grew empty Kalonay crossed it swiftly and advancing to MissCarson took her hand. His face was radiant with triumph and content.He regarded her steadily for a moment, as though he could not findwords to tell his feelings.

"You had faith in me," he said, at last. "Can I ever make youunderstand how much that means to me? When all had turned against meyou trusted me, you had faith in me, in the King's jackal."

"Silence; you must never say that again," the girl commanded, gently."You have shown it to be the lie it always was. We shall call you theDefender of the Faith now; you are the guardian of a King." She smiledat the little boy in his arms, and made a slight courtesy to them both."You have outgrown your old title," she said; "you have a proud onenow, you will be the Prince Regent."

Kalonay, with the child in his arms, and Miss Carson were standingquite alone. General Renauld had been led away, guarded by a merryband of youngsters; the King still crouched in his chair, with Barratbowed behind him, but pulling, with philosophic calm, on a cigarette,and Father Paul and Gordon were in close conversation with Mrs. Carsonat the farther end of the room. The sun had set, and the apartment wasin semi-darkness. Kalonay moved closer to Miss Carson and lookedboldly into her eyes, "There is a prouder title than that of theRegent," he whispered; "will you ever give it me?"

The girl started, breathing quickly, and turned her head aside, makingan effort to free her hand, but Kalonay held it closer in his own."Will you give it me?" he begged.

Then the girl looked up at him smiling, but with such confidence andlove in her eyes that he read his answer, though she shook her head, asthough to belie the truth her eyes had told him.

"When you have done your work," she said, "come to me or send for me,and I shall come and give you my answer; and whether you fail orsucceed the answer will be the same."

Kalonay stooped quickly and kissed her hand, and when he raised hisface his eyes were smiling with such happiness that the little child inhis arms read it there, and smiled too in sympathy, and pressed hisface closer against his comrade's shoulder.

Gordon at this moment moved across the room and bowed, making a deepobeisance to the child.

"Might I be permitted," he asked, "to kiss his Royal Highness? Ishould like to boast of the fact, later," he explained.

The Crown Prince turned his sad, wise eyes on him in silence, andgravely extended a little hand.

"You may kiss his Highness's hand," said Kalonay, smiling.

Gordon laughed and pressed the fingers in his own.

"When you talk like that, Kalonay," he said, "you make me feel likeAlice in the court-room with the Kings and Queens around her. A dozentimes this afternoon I've felt like saying, `After all, they are only apack of cards.'"

Kalonay shook his head and glanced toward Miss Carson for enlightenment.

"I don't understand," he said.

"No, you couldn't be expected to," said Gordon; "You have not beeneducated up to that. It is the point of view."

He stuck out the middle finger of his hand, and drove it three timesdeliberately into the side of the Crown Prince. The child gasped andstared open-mouthed at the friendly stranger, and then catching thelaugh in Gordon's eyes, laughed with him.

"Now," said Gordon, "I shall say that I have dug the King of Messina inthe ribs—that is even better than having kissed him. God bless yourRoyal Highness," he said, bowing gravely. "You may find medisrespectful at times," he added; "but then, you must remember, I amgoing to risk a valuable life for you. At least it's an extremelyvaluable one to me."

Kalonay looked at Gordon for a moment with serious consideration, andthen held out his hand. "You also had faith in me," he said. "I thankyou. Are you in earnest; do you really wish to serve us?"

"I mean to stay by you until the boy is crowned," said the American,"unless we separate on our several paths of glory—where they will leaddepends, I imagine, on how we have lived."

"Or on how we die," Kalonay added. "I am glad to hear you speak so.If you wish, I shall attach you to the person of the Crown Prince. Youshall be on the staff with the rank of Colonel."

Gordon made a low and sweeping bow.

"Rise, Sir Archibald Gordon," he said. "I thank you," he added. "Weshall strive to please."

Miss Carson shook her head at him, and sighed in protest.

"Will you always take everything as a joke, Archie?" she said.

"My dear Patty," he answered, "the situation is much too serious totake in any other way."

They moved to the door, and there the priest and Mrs. Carson joinedthem; but on the threshold Kalonay stopped and looked for the firsttime since he had addressed him at the King.

He regarded him for some seconds sternly in silence, and then pointed,with his free hand, at the crown of Messina, which still rested on thetable at the King's elbow. "Colonel Gordon," he said, in a tone ofassured authority, "I give the crown of Messina into your keeping. Youwill convey it, with all proper regard for its dignity, safely on boardthe yacht, and then bring it at once to me."

When he had finished speaking the Prince turned and, without looking atthe King, passed on with the others across the terrace and disappearedin the direction of the shore, where the launch lay waiting.

Gordon crossed the room and picked up the crown from the table, liftingit with both hands, the King and Barrat watching him in silence as hedid so. He hesitated, and held it for a moment, regarding it with muchthe same expression of awe and amusement that a man shows when he ispermitted to hold a strange baby in his arms. Turning, he saw thesinister eyes of the King and of Barrat fastened upon him, and hesmiled awkwardly, and in some embarrassment turned the crown about inhis hands, so that the jewels in its circle gleamed dully in the dimlight of the room. Gordon raised the crown and balanced it on hisfinger-tips, regarding it severely and shaking his head.

"There are very few of these left in the world now, your Majesty," hesaid, cheerfully, "and the number is getting smaller every year. Wehave none at all in my country, and I should think—seeing they are sofew—that those who have them would take better care of them, and tryto keep them untarnished, and brushed up, and clean." He turned hishead and looked inquiringly at the King, but Louis made no sign that heheard him.

"I have no desire, you understand me," continued Gordon, unabashed, "totake advantage of a man when he is down, but the temptation to say `Itold you so' seems almost impossible to resist. What?" he asked—"Ibeg your pardon, I thought you spoke." But the King continuedscornfully silent, and only a contemptuous snort from Barrat expressedhis feelings.

Gordon placed the crown carefully under his arm, and then removed itquickly, with a guilty look of dismay at its former owner, and let itswing from his hand; but this fashion of carrying it seemed alsolacking in respect, so he held it up again with both hands and glancedat the King in some perplexity.

"There ought to be a sofa-cushion to go with this, or something tocarry it on," he said, in a grieved tone. "You see, I am new at thissort of thing. Perhaps your Majesty would kindly give me some expertinformation. How do you generally carry it?"

The King's eyes snapped open and shut again.

"On my head," he said, grimly.

Gordon laughed in great relief.

"Now, do you know, I like that," he cried. "That shows spirit. I amglad to see you take it so cheerfully. Well, I must be going, sir," headded, nodding, and moving toward the door. "Don't be discouraged. Assomeone says, `It's always morning somewhere,' and in my countrythere's just as good men out of office as there are in it. Good-night."

While the sound of Gordon's footsteps died away across the marbleterrace, the King and Barrat remained motionless and silent. Thedarkness in the room deepened and the silence seemed to deepen with it;and still they remained immovable, two shadowy figures in the desertedapartment where the denunciations of those who had abandoned them stillseemed to hang and echo in the darkness. What thoughts passed throughtheir minds or for how long a time they might still have sat in bittercontemplation can only be guessed, for they were surprised by the sharprattle of a lock, the two great doors of the adjoining room were thrownwide open, and a broad and brilliant light flooded the apartment.Niccolas, the King's majordomo, stood between the doors, a blacksilhouette against the glare of many candles.

"His Majesty is served!" he said.

The King lifted his head sharply, as though he found some lurkingmockery in the words, or some fresh affront; but in the obsequious bowof his majordomo there was no mockery, and the table beyond glistenedwith silver, while a pungent and convincing odor of rich food waswafted insidiously through the open doors.

The King rose with a gentle sigh, and nodded to his companion.

"Come, Barrat," he said, taking the baron's arm in his. "The rascalshave robbed us of our throne, but, thank God, they have had the graceto leave me my appetite."

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