THE LIGHTED MATCH

[Illustration: SHE HELD OUT HER HAND TO BENTON AND WATCHED, TRANCE-LIKE, HIS LOWERED HEAD AS HE BENT HIS LIPS TO HER FINGERS. ]

 The LIGHTED MATCH

 by

 CHARLES NEVILLE BUCK

 _Author of_

 The Key to Yesterday

 _Illustrations_ by R. F. Schabelitz

 W. J. Watt & Company Publishers New York

 COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY W. J. WATT & COMPANY

 _Published May_

 PRESS OF BRAUNWORTH & CO. BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS BROOKLYN, N. Y. 

 To K. Du P. 

 CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE I AN OMEN IS CONSTRUED 9

 II BENTON PLAYS MAGICIAN 17

 III THE MOON OVERHEARS 28

 IV THE DOCTRINE ACCORDING TO JONESY 40

 V IT IS DECIDED TO MASQUERADE 49

 VI IN WHICH ROMEO BECOMES DROMIO 56

 VII IN WHICH DROMIO BECOMES ROMEO 70

 VIII THE PRINCESS CONSULTS JONESY 82

 IX THE TOREADOR APPEARS 92

 X OF CERTAIN TRANSPIRINGS AT A CAFÉ TABLE 102

 XI THE PASSING PRINCESS AND THE MISTAKEN COUNTESS 112

 XII BENTON MUST DECIDE 123

 XIII CONCERNING FAREWELLS AND WARNINGS 137

 XIV COUNTESS AND CABINET NOIR JOIN FORCES 144

 XV THE TOREADOR BECOMES AMBASSADOR 155

 XVI THE AMBASSADOR BECOMES ADMIRAL 167

 XVII BENTON CALLS ON THE KING 178

 XVIII IN WHICH THE SPHINX BREAKS SILENCE 190

 XIX THE JACKAL TAKES THE TRAIL 203

 XX THE DEATH OF ROMANCE IS DEPLORED 214

 XXI NAPLES ASSUMES NEW BEAUTY 222

 XXII THE SENTRY-BOX ANSWERS THE KING'S QUERY 229

 XXIII "SCARABS OF A DEAD DYNASTY" 244

 XXIV IN WHICH KINGS AND COMMONERS DISCUSS LOVE 255

 XXV ABDUL SAID BEY EFFECTS A RESCUE 265

 XXVI IN A CURIO SHOP IN STAMBOUL 276

 XXVII BENTON SAYS GOOD-BY 288

XXVIII JUSSERET MAKES A REPORT 300

THE LIGHTED MATCH

CHAPTER I

AN OMEN IS CONSTRUED

"When a feller an' a gal washes their hands in the same basin at thesame time, it's a tol'able good sign they won't git married this year. "

The oracle spoke through the bearded lips of a farmer perched on the topstep of his cabin porch. The while he construed omens, a setter pupindustriously gnawed at his boot-heels. 

The girl was bending forward, her fingers spread in a tin basin, as theman at her elbow poured water slowly from a gourd-dipper. Heaped, indisorder against the cabin wall, lay their red hunting-coats, crops, andriding gauntlets. 

The oracle tumbled the puppy down the steps and watched its return tothe attack. Then with something of melancholy retrospect in his paleeyes he pursued his reflections. "Now there was Sissy Belmire an' BudThomas, been keeping company for two years, then washed hands in commonat the Christian Endeavor picnic an'--" He broke off to shake his headin sorrowing memory. 

The young man, holding his muddied digits over the water, paused toconsider the matter. 

Suddenly his hands went down into the basin with a splash. 

"It is now the end of October, " he enlightened; "next year comes in nineweeks. "

The sun was dipping into a cloud-bank already purpled and gold-rimmed. Shortly it would drop behind the bristling summit-line of the hills. 

The girl looked down at tell-tale streaks of red clay on the skirt ofher riding habit, and shook her head. "'Twill never, never do to go backlike this, " she sighed. "They'll know I've come a cropper, and theyfancy I'm as breakable as Sévres. There will be no end of questions. "

The young man dropped to his knees and began industriously plying abrush on the damaged skirt. The farmer took his eyes from the puppy foran upward glance. His face was solicitous. 

"When I saw that horse of yours fall down, it looked to me like he wastrying to jam you through to China. You sure lit hard!"

"It didn't hurt me, " she laughed as she thrust her arms into the sleevesof her pink coat. "You see, we thought we knew the run better than thewhips, and we chose the short cut across your meadow. My horse took offtoo wide at that stone fence. That's why he went down, and why we turnedyour house into a port of repairs. You have been very kind. "

The trio started down the grass-grown pathway to the gate where thehunters stood hitched. The young man dropped back a few paces to satisfyhimself that she was not concealing some hurt. He knew herhalf-masculine contempt for acknowledging the fragility of her sex. 

Reassurance came as he watched her walking ahead with the unconsciousgrace that belonged to her pliant litheness and expressed itself in hersuperb, almost boyish carriage. 

When they had mounted and he had reined his bay down to the side of herroan, he sat studying her through half-closed, satisfied eyes though healready knew her as the Moslem priest knows the Koran. While they rodein silence he conned the inventory. Slim uprightness like the strengthof a young poplar; eyes that played the whole color-gamut between violetand slate-gray, as does the Mediterranean under sun and cloud-bank; lipsthat in repose hinted at melancholy and that broke into magic with asmile. Then there was the suggestion of a thought-furrow between thebrows and a chin delicately chiseled, but resolute and fascinatinglyuptilted. 

It was a face that triumphed over mere prettiness with hints ofchallenging qualities; with individuality, with possibilities ofpurpose, with glints of merry humor and unspoken sadness; withdeep-sleeping potentiality for passion; with a hundred charmingwhimsicalities. 

The eyes were just now fixed on the burning beauty of the sunset and thethought-furrow was delicately accentuated. She drew a long, deep breathand, letting the reins drop, stretched out both arms toward the splendorof the sky-line. 

"It is so beautiful--so beautiful!" she cried, with the rapture of achild, "and it all spells Freedom. I should like to be the freest thingthat has life under heaven. What is the freest thing in the world?"

She turned her face on him with the question, and her eyes widened aftera way they had until they seemed to be searching far out in the fieldsof untalked-of things, and seeing there something that clouded them withdisquietude. 

"I should like to be a man, " she went on, "a man and a _hobo_. " Thefurrow vanished and the eyes suddenly went dancing. "That is what Ishould like to be--a hobo with a tomato-can and a fire beside therailroad-track. "

The man said nothing, and she looked up to encounter a steady gaze fromeyes somewhat puzzled. 

His pupils held a note of pained seriousness, and her voice becameresponsively vibrant as she leaned forward with answering gravity in herown. 

"What is it?" she questioned. "You are troubled. "

He looked away beyond her to the pine-topped hills, which seemed to bemarching with lances and ragged pennants, against the orange field ofthe sky. Then his glance came again to her face. 

"They call me the Shadow, " he said slowly. "You know whose shadow thatmeans. These weeks have made us comrades, and I am jealous because youare the sum of two girls, and I know only one of them. I am jealous ofthe other girl at home in Europe. I am jealous that I don't know whyyou, who are seemingly subject only to your own fancy, should crave thefreedom of the hobo by the railroad track. "

She bent forward to adjust a twisted martingale, and for a moment herface was averted. In her hidden eyes at that moment, there was deepsuffering, but when she straightened up she was smiling. 

"There is nothing that you shall not know. But not yet--not yet! Afterall, perhaps it's only that in another incarnation I was a vagrant beeand I'm homesick for its irresponsibility. "

"At all events"--he spoke with an access of boyish enthusiasm--"I 'thankwhatever gods may be' that I have known you as I have. I'm glad that wehave not just been idly rich together. Why, Cara, do you remember theday we lost our way in the far woods, and I foraged corn, and youscrambled stolen eggs? We were forest folk that day; primitive as in theyears when things were young and the best families kept house in caves. "

The girl nodded. "I approve of my shadow, " she affirmed. 

The smile of enthusiasm died on his face and something like a scowl camethere. 

"The chief trouble, " he said, "is that altogether too decent brute, Pagratide. I don't like double shadows; they usually stand for confusedlights. "

"Are you jealous of Pagratide?" she laughed. "He pretends to have asimilar sentiment for you. "

"Well, " he conceded, laughing in spite of himself, "it does seem thatwhen a European girl deigns to play a while with her American cousins, Europe might stay on its own side of the pond. This Pagratide is acommuter over the Northern Ocean track. He harasses the Atlantic withhis goings and comings. "

"The Atlantic?" she echoed mockingly. 

"Possibly I was too modest, " he amended. "I mean me and theAtlantic--particularly me. "

From around the curve of the road sounded a tempered shout. The girllaughed. 

"You seem to have summoned him out of space, " she suggested. 

The man growled. "The local from Europe appears to have arrived. " Hegathered in his reins with an almost vicious jerk which brought thebay's head up with a snort of remonstrance. 

A horseman appeared at the turn of the road. Waving his hat, he putspurs to his mount and came forward at a gallop. The newcomer rode withmilitary uprightness, softened by the informal ease of the polo-player. Even at the distance, which his horse was lessening under the insistentpressure of his heels, one could note a boyish charm in the frankness ofhis smile and an eagerness in his eyes. 

"I have been searching for you for centuries at least, " he shouted, witha pleasantly foreign accent, which was rather a nicety than a fault ofenunciation, "but the quest is amply rewarded!"

He wheeled his horse to the left with a precision that again bespoke thecavalryman, and bending over the girl's gauntleted hand, kissed herfingers in a manner that added to something of ceremonious flourish muchmore of individual homage. Her smile of greeting was cordial, but adegree short of enthusiasm. 

"I thought--" she hesitated. "I thought you were on the other side. "

The newcomer's laugh showed a glistening line of the whitest teeth undera closely-cropped dark mustache. 

"I have run away, " he declared. "My honored father is, of course, furious, but Europe was desolate--and so--" He shrugged his shoulders. Then, noting Benton's half-amused, half-annoyed smile, he bowed andsaluted. "Ah, Benton, " he said. "How are you? I see that your eyesresent foreign invasion. "

Benton raised his brows in simulated astonishment. "Are you stillforeign?" he inquired. "I thought perhaps you had taken out your firstcitizenship papers. "

"But you?" Pagratide turned to the girl with something of entreaty. "Will you not give me your welcome?"

In the distance loomed the tile roofs and tall chimneys of "Idle Times. "Between stretched a level sweep of road. 

"You didn't ask permission, " she replied, with a touch of disquiet inher pupils. "When a woman is asked to extend a welcome, she must begiven time to prepare it. I ran away from Europe, you know, and afterall you are a part of Europe. "

She shook out her reins, bending forward over the roan's neck, and witha clatter of gravel under their twelve hoofs, the horses burst forwardin a sudden neck and neck dash, toward the patch of red roofs set in amosaic of Autumn woods. 

CHAPTER II

BENTON PLAYS MAGICIAN

In the large living-room, Van Bristow, the master of "Idle Times, " hadexpressed his tastes. Here in the almost severe wainscoting, ininglenook and chimney-corner, one found the index to his fancy. It washis fancy which had dictated that the broad windows, with sills at thelevel of the floor, should not command the formal terraces and lawns ofa landscape-gardener's devising, but should give exit instead upon astrip of rugged nature, where the murmur of the creek came up throughunaltered foliage and underbrush. 

Shortening their entrance through one of the windows, the trio foundtheir host, already in evening dress. Bristow was idling on the hearthwith no more immediate concern than a cigarette and the enjoyment of thecrackling logs, unspoiled by other light. 

As the clatter of boots and spurs announced their coming, Van glanced upand schooled his face into a very fair counterfeit of severity. 

"Lucky we don't make our people ring in on the clock, " he observed. "Youthree would be docked. "

The girl stood in the red glow of the hearth, slowly drawing off herriding-gauntlets. 

Pagratide went to the table in search of cigarettes and matches, and asthe light there was dim, the host joined him and laid a hand readilyenough upon the brass case for which the other was fumbling. As he helda light to his guest's cigarette, he bent over and spoke in a guardedundertone. Benton noticed in the brief flare that the visitor's facemirrored sudden surprise. 

"Colonel Von Ritz is here, " confided Bristow. "Arrived by the next trainafter you and was for posting off in search of you instanter. He actedvery much like a summons-server or a bailiff. He's ensconced in roomsadjoining yours. You might look in on him as you go up to dress. Heseems to be in the very devil of a hurry. "

Pagratide's brows went up in evident annoyance and for an instant therewas a defiant stiffening of his jaw, but when he spoke his voice heldneither excitement nor surprise. 

"Ah, indeed!" The exclamation was casual. He watched the glowing end ofhis cigarette for a moment, then magnanimously added: "However, since hehas followed across three thousand miles, I had better see him. "

The host turned to the girl. "I'm borrowing this young man untildinner, " he vouchsafed as he led Pagratide to the door. 

Cara stood watching the two as they passed into the hall; then her facechanged suddenly as though she had been leaving a stage and had laidaside a part--abandoning a semblance which it was no longer necessary tomaintain. A pained droop came to the corners of her lips and she droppedwearily into the broad oak seat of the inglenook. There she sat, withher chin propped on her hands, elbows on her knees, and gazed silentlyat the logs. 

"Why did they have to come just now and spoil my holiday?"

She spoke as though unconscious that her musings were finding voice, andthe half-whispered words were wistful. Benton took a step nearer andbent impulsively forward. 

"What is it?" he anxiously questioned. 

She only looked intently into the coals with trouble-clouded eyes andshook her head. He could not tell whether in response to his words or tosome thought of her own. 

Dropping on one knee at her feet, he gently covered her hands with hisown. He could feel the delicate play of her breath on his forehead. 

"Cara, " he whispered, "what is it, dear?"

She started, and with a spasmodic movement caught one of his hands, foran instant pressing it in her own, then, rising, she shook her head witha gesture of the fingers at the temples as though she would brush awaycobwebs that enmeshed and fogged the brain. 

"Nothing, boy. " Her smile was somewhat wistful. "Nothing but sillyimaginings. " She laughed and when she spoke again her voice was as lightas if her world held only triviality and laughter. "Yet there beimportant things to decide. What shall I wear for dinner?"

"It's such a hard question, " he demurred. "I like you best in so manythings, but the queen can do no wrong--make no mistake. "

A sudden shadow of pain crossed her eyes, and she caught her lower lipsharply between her teeth. 

"Was it something I said?" he demanded. 

"Nothing, " she answered slowly. "Only don't say that again, ever--'thequeen can do no wrong. ' Now, I must go. "

She rose and turned toward the door, then suddenly carrying one hand toher eyes, she took a single unsteady step and swayed as though she wouldfall. Instantly his arms were around her and for a moment he could feel, in its wild fluttering, her heart against the red breast of hishunting-coat. 

Her laugh was a little shaken as she drew away from him and stood, still a trifle unsteady. Her voice was surcharged with self-contempt. 

"Sir Gray Eyes, I--I ask you to believe that I don't habitually fallabout into people's arms. I'm developing nerves--there is a whitefeather in my moral and mental plumage. "

He looked at her with grave eyes, from which he sternly banished allquestioning--and remained silent. 

They passed out into the hall and, at the foot of the stairs where theirways diverged, she paused to look back at him with an unclouded smile. 

"You have not told me what to wear. "

His eyes were as steady as her own. "You will please wear the black gownwith the shimmery things all over it. I can't describe it, but I canremember it. And a single red rose, " he judiciously added. 

"'Tis October and the florists are fifty miles away, " she demurred. "Itwould take a magician's wand to produce the red rose. "

"I noticed a funny looking thing among my golf sticks, " he remembered. "It is a little bit like a niblick, but it may be a magic wand indisguise. You wear the black gown and trust to providence for the redrose. "

She threw back a laugh and was gone. 

When she disappeared at the turning, he wheeled and went to the"bachelors' barracks, " as the master of "Idle Times" dubbed the wingwhere the unmarried men were quartered. 

Two suites next adjoining the room allotted to Benton had beenunoccupied when he had gone out that forenoon. Between his quarters andthese erstwhile vacant ones lay a room forming a sort of buffer space. Here a sideboard, a card-table, and desk made the "neutral zone, " as Vancalled it, available for his guests as a territory either separating orconnecting their individual chambers. 

Now a blaze of transoms and a sound of voices proclaimed that theapartments were tenanted. Benton entered his own unlighted room, andthen with his hand at the electric switch halted in embarrassment. 

The folding-doors between his apartment and the "neutral territory"stood wide, and the attitudes and voices of the two men he saw thereindicated their interview to be one in which outsiders should have noconcern. To switch on the light would be to declare himself a witness toa part at least; to remain would be to become unwilling auditor to more;to open the door he had just closed behind him would also be to attractattention to himself. He paused in momentary uncertainty. 

One of the men was Pagratide, transformed by anger; seemingly taller, darker, lither. The second man stood calm, immobile, with his armscrossed on his breast, bending an impassive glance on the other fromsingularly steady eyes. His six feet of well-proportioned stature justmissed an exaggeration of soldierly bearing. 

The unwavering mouth-line; level, dark brows almost meeting overunflinching gray eyes; the uncurved nose and commanding forehead were inconcert with the clean, almost lean sweep of the jaw, in spelling forcefor field or council. 

"Am I a brigand, Von Ritz, to be harassed by police? Answer me--am I?"Pagratide spoke in a tempest of anger. He halted before the other man, his hands twitching in fury. 

Von Ritz remained as motionless, apparently as mildly interested, asthough he were listening to the screaming of a parrot. 

"My orders were explicit. " His words fell icily. "They were the ordersof His Majesty's government. I shall obey them. I beg pardon, I shallattempt to obey them; and thus far my attempts to serve His Majesty havenot encountered failure. I should prefer not having to call on theambassador--or the American secret service. "

"By God! If I had a sword--" breathed Pagratide. His fury had gonethrough heat to cold, and his attitude was that of a man denied theopportunity of resenting a mortal affront. 

Von Ritz coolly inclined his head, indicating the heaped-up luggage onthe table between them. Otherwise he did not move. 

"The stick there, on the table, is a sword-cane, " he commented. 

Pagratide stood unmoving. 

The other waited a moment, almost deferentially, then went on with calmdeliberation. 

"You left your regiment without leave, captain. One might almost callthat--" Then Benton remembered an auxiliary door at the back of hisapartment and made his escape unnoticed. 

A half hour later, changed from boots and breeches into evening dress, Benton was opening a long package which bore the name of his florist intown. In another moment he had spread a profusion of roses on his tableand stood bending over them with the critically selective gaze of aParis. 

When he had made the choice of one, he carefully pared every thorn fromits long stem. Then he went out through the rear of the hall to astairway at the back. 

He knew of a window-seat above, where he could wait in concealmentbehind a screening mass of potted palms to rise out of his ambush andintercept Cara as she came into the hall. It pleased him to regardhimself as a genie, materializing out of emptiness to present the rosewhich she had chosen to declare unobtainable. 

In the shadowed recess he ensconced himself with his knees drawn up andthe flower twirling idly between his fingers. 

For a while he measured his vigil only by the ticking of a clocksomewhere out of sight, then he heard a quiet footfall on the hardwood, and through the fronds of the plants he saw a man's figure pace slowlyby. The broad shoulders and the lancelike carriage proclaimed Von Ritzeven before the downcast face was raised. At Cara's door the Europeanwheeled uncertainly and paused. Because something vague and subconsciousin Benton's mind had catalogued this man as a harbinger of trouble andbranded him with distrust, his own eyes contracted and the rose ceasedtwirling. 

Just then the door of Cara's room opened and closed, and the slenderfigure of the girl stood out in the silhouette of her black evening gownagainst the white woodwork. Her eyes widened and she paled perceptibly. For an instant, she caught her lower lip between her teeth; but she didnot, by start or other overt manifestation, give sign of surprise. Sheonly inclined her head in greeting, and waited for Von Ritz to speak. 

He bowed low, and his manner was ceremonious. 

"You do not like me--" He smiled, pausing as though in doubt as to whatform of address he should employ; then he asked: "What shall I callyou?"

"Miss Carstow, " she prompted, in a voice that seemed to raise aquarantine flag above him. 

"Certainly, Miss Carstow, " he continued gravely. "Time has elapsed sincethe days of your pinafores and braids, when I was honored with thesobriquet of 'Soldier-man' and you were the 'Little Empress. '"

His voice was one that would have lent itself to eloquence. Now its evenmodulation carried a sort of cold charm. 

"You do not like me, " he repeated. 

"I don't know, " she answered simply. "I hadn't thought about it. I wassurprised. "

"Naturally. " He contemplated her with grave eyes that seemed to admit noplay of expression. "I came only to ask an interview later. At any timethat may be most agreeable--Pardon me, " he interrupted himself with acertain cynical humor in his voice, "at any time, I should say, that maybe least disagreeable to you. "

"I will tell you later, " she said. He bowed himself backward, thenturning on his heel went silently down the stairs. 

She stood hesitant for a moment, with both hands pressed against thedoor at her back, and her brow drawn in a deep furrow, then she threwher chin upward and shook her head with that resolute gesture whichmeant, with her, shaking off at least the outward seeming of annoyance. 

Benton came out from his hiding-place behind the palms, and she lookedup at him with a momentary clearing of her brow. 

"Where were you?" she asked. 

"I unintentionally played eavesdropper, " he said humbly, handing her therose. "I was lying in wait to decorate you. "

"It is wonderful, " she exclaimed. "I think it is the wonderfulest rosethat any little girl ever had for a magic gift. " She held it for amoment, softly against her cheek. 

He bent forward. "Cara!" he whispered. No answer. "Cara!" he repeated. 

"Yeth, thir, " she lisped in a whimsical little-girl voice, looking upwith a smile stolen from a fairy-tale. 

"I am just lending you that rose. I had meant to give it to you, but_now_ I want it back--when you are through with it. May I have it?"

She held it out teasingly. "Do you want it now--Indian-giver?" shedemanded. 

"You know I don't, " in an injured tone. 

"I'm glad, because you couldn't have it--yet. " And she was gone, leavinghim to make his appearance from the direction of his own apartments. 

CHAPTER III

THE MOON OVERHEARS

At dinner the talk ran for a course or two with the hounds, then strayedaimlessly into a dozen discursive channels. 

"My boy, " whispered Mrs. Van from her end of the table, to Pagratide onher right, "I relinquish you to the girl on your other side. You havemade a very brave effort to talk to me. Ah, I know--" raising a slenderhand to still his polite remonstrance--"there is no Cara but Cara, andPagratide is--" She let her mischief-laden smile finish the comment. 

"Her satellite, " he confessed. 

"One of them, " she wickedly corrected him. 

The foreigner turned his head and nodded gravely. Cara was listening tosomething that Benton was saying in undertone, her lips parted in anamused smile. 

Through a momentary lull as the coffee came, rose the voice ofO'Barreton, the bore, near the head of the table; O'Barreton, who mustbe tolerated because as a master of hounds he had no superior and a barequorum of equals. 

"For my part, " he was saying, "I confess an augmented admiration forVan because he's distantly related to near-royalty. If that be snobbish, make the most of it. "

Van laughed. "Related to royalty?" he scornfully repeated. "Am I notmyself a sovereign with the right on election day to stand in linebehind my chauffeur and stable-boys at the voting-place?"

"How did it happen, Van? How did you acquire your gorgeous relatives?"persisted O'Barreton. 

"Some day I'll tell you all about it. Do you think the Elkridge houndswill run--"

"I addressed a question to you. That question is still before thehouse, " interrupted O'Barreton, with dignity. "How did you acquire 'em?"

"Inherited 'em!" snapped Van, but O'Barreton was not to be turned aside. 

"Quite true and quite epigrammatic, " he persisted sweetly. "But how?"

Van turned to the rest of the table. "You don't have to listen to this, "he said in despair. "I have to go through it with O'Barreton every timehe comes here. It's a sort of ritual. " Then, turning to the tormentingguest, he explained carefully: "Once upon a time the Earl of Dundredgehad three daughters. The eldest--my mother--married an American husband. The second married an Englishman--she is the mother of my fair cousin, Cara, there; the third and youngest married the third son of the GrandDuke of Maritzburg, at that time a quiet gentleman who loved the ChampsElysées and landscape-painting in Southern Spain. "

Van traced a family-tree on the tablecloth with a salt-spoon, for hisguest's better information. 

"That doesn't enlighten me on the semi-royal status of your AuntMaritzburg, " objected O'Barreton. "How did she grow so great?"

"Vicissitudes, Barry, " explained the host patiently. "Just vicissitudes. The father and the two elder brothers died off and left the third son toassume the government of a grand duchy, which he did not want, andcompelled him to relinquish the mahl-stick and brushes which he loved. My aunt was his grand-duchess-consort, and until her death occupied withhim the ducal throne. If you'd look these things up for yourself, myson, in some European 'Who's Who, ' you'd remember 'em--and save me muchtrouble. "

After dinner Cara disappeared, and Benton wandered from room to roomwith a seemingly purposeless eye, keenly alert for a black gown, a redrose, and a girl whom he could not find. Von Ritz also was missing, andthis fact added to his anxiety. 

In the conservatory he came upon Pagratide, likewise stalking about withrestlessly roving eyes, like a hunter searching a jungle. The foreignerpaused with one foot tapping the marble rim of a small fountain, andBenton passed with a nod. 

The evening went by without her reappearance, and finally the housedarkened, and settled into quiet. Benton sought the open, driven by arestlessness that obsessed and troubled him. A fitful breeze broughtdown the dead leaves in swirling eddies. The moon was under a cloud-bankwhen, a quarter of a mile from the house, he left the smooth lawns andplunged among the vine-clad trees and thickets that rimmed the creek. Inthe darkness, he could hear the low, wild plaint with which the streamtossed itself over the rocks that cumbered its bed. 

Beyond the thicket he came again to a more open space among the trees, free from underbrush, but strewn at intervals with great bowlders. Hepicked his way cautiously, mindful of crevices where a broken leg orworse might be the penalty of a misstep in the darkness. The humorseized him to sit on a great rock which dropped down twenty feet to thecreek bed, and listen to the quieting music of its night song. His eyes, grown somewhat accustomed to the darkness, had been blinded again by thematch he had just struck to light a cigarette, and he walked, as itbehooved him, carefully and gropingly. 

"Please, sir, don't step on me. "

Benton halted with a start and stared confusedly about him. A ripple oflow laughter came to his ears as he widened his pupils in the effort toaccommodate his eyes to the murk. Then the moon broke out once more andthe place became one of silver light and dark, soft shadow-blots. Shewas sitting with her back against a tree, her knees gathered between herarms, fingers interlocked. She had thrown a long, rough cape about her, but it had fallen open, leaving visible the black gown and a spot heknew to be a red rose on her breast. 

He stood looking down, and she smiled up. 

"Cara!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here--alone?"

"Seeking freedom, " she responded calmly. "It's not so good as the hobo'sfire beside the track, but it's better than four walls. The moon hasbeen wonderful, Sir Gray Eyes--as bright and dark as life; radiant alittle while and hidden behind clouds a great deal. And the wind hasbeen whispering like a troubadour to the tree-tops. "

"And you, " he interrupted severely, dropping on the earth at her feetand propping himself on one elbow, "have been sitting in the chillingair, with your throat uncovered and probably catching cold. "

"What a matter-of-fact person it is!" she laughed. "I didn't appoint youmy physician, you know. "

[Illustration: "PLEASE, SIR, DON'T STEP ON ME. "]

"But your coming alone out here in these woods, and so late!" heexpostulated. 

"Why not?" She looked frankly up at him. "I am not afraid. "

"I am afraid for you. " He spoke seriously. 

"Why?" she inquired again. 

He knelt beside her, looking directly into her eyes. "For many reasons, "he said. "But above all else, because I love you. "

The fingers of her clasped hands tightened until they strained, and shelooked straight away across the clearing. The moon was bright now, andthe thought-furrow showed deep between her brows, but she said nothing. 

The tree-tops whispered, and the girl shivered slightly. He bent forwardand folded the cape across her throat. Still she did not move. 

"Cara, I love you, " he repeated insistently. 

"Don't--I can't listen. " Her voice was one of forced calm. Then, turningsuddenly, she laid her hand on his arm. It trembled violently under hertouch. "And, oh, boy, " she broke out, with a voice of pent-up vibrance, "don't you see how I want to listen to you?"

He bent forward until he was very close, and his tone was almost fiercein its tense eagerness. 

"You want to! Why?"

Again a tremor seized her, then with the sudden abandon of one whosurrenders to an impulse stronger than one's self, she leaned forwardand placed a hand on each of his shoulders, clutching him almost wildly. Her eyes glowed close to his own. 

"Because I love you, too, " she said. Then, with a break in her voice:"Oh, you knew that! Why did you make me say it?"

While the stars seemed to break out in a chorus above him, he found hisarms about her, and was vaguely conscious that his lips were smotheringsome words her lips were trying to shape. Words seemed to him just thenso superfluous. 

There was a tumult of pounding pulses in his veins, responsive to thefluttering heart which beat back of a crushed rose in the lithe being heheld in his arms. Then he obeyed the pressure of the hands on hisshoulders and released her. 

"Why should you find it so hard to say?" He asked. 

She sat for a moment with her hands covering her face. 

"You must never do that again, " she said faintly. "You have not theright. I have not the right. "

"I have the only right, " he announced triumphantly. 

She shook her head. "Not when the girl is engaged. "

She looked at him with a sad droop at the corners of her lips. He satsilent--waiting. 

"Listen!" She spoke wearily, rising and leaning against the rough boleof the tree at her back, with both hands tightly clasped behind her. "Listen and don't interrupt, because it's hard, and I want to finishit. " Her words came slowly with labored calm, almost as if she werereciting memorized lines. "It sounds simple from your point of view. Itis simple from mine, but desperately hard. Love is not the only thing. To some of us there is something else that must come first. I amengaged, and I shall marry the man to whom I am engaged. Not because Iwant to, but because--" her chin went up with the determination that wasin her--"because I must. "

"What kind of man will ask you to keep a promise that your heartrepudiates?" he hotly demanded. 

"He knew that I loved you before you knew it, " she answered; "that Iwould always love you--that I would never love him. Besides, he must doit. After all, it's fortunate that he wants to. " She tried to laugh. 

"Is his name Pagratide?" The man mechanically drew his handkerchief fromhis cuff, and wiped beads of cold moisture from his forehead. 

The girl shook her head. "No, his name is not Pagratide. "

He took a step nearer, but she raised a hand to wave him back, and hebowed his submission. 

"You love me--you are certain of that?" he whispered. 

"Do you doubt it?"

"No, " he said, "I don't doubt it. "

Again he pressed the handkerchief to his forehead, and in the silveringradiance of the moonlight she could see the outstanding tracery of thearteries on his temples. 

Instantly she flung both arms about his neck. 

"Don't!" she cried passionately. "Don't look like that! You will killme!"

He smiled. "Under such treatment, I shall look precisely as you say, " heacquiesced. 

"Listen, dear. " She was talking rapidly, wildly, her arms still abouthis neck. "There are two miserable little kingdoms over there.... Horrible little two-by-four principalities, that fit into the map ofEurope like little, ragged chips in a mosaic.... Cousin Van lied inthere to protect my disguise.... It is my father who is the Grand Dukeof Maritzburg, and it is ordained that I shall marry Prince Karyl ofGalavia.... It was Von Ritz's mission to remind me of my slavery. " Hervoice rose in sudden protest. "Every peasant girl in the vineyards mayselect her own lover, but I must be awarded by the crowned heads of thereal kingdoms--like a prize in a lottery. Do you wonder that I have runaway and masqueraded for a taste of freedom before the end? Do youwonder"--the head came down on his shoulder--"that I want to be a hobowith a tomato-can and a fire of deadwood?"

He kissed her hair. "Are you crying, Cara, dear?" he asked softly. 

Her head came up. "I never cry, " she answered. "Do you believe there aremore lives--other incarnations--that I may yet live to be abutterfly--or a vagrant bee?"

"I believe"--his voice was firm--"I believe you are not Queen of Galaviayet by a good bit. There's a fairly husky American anarchist in thisgame, dearest, who has designs on that dynasty. "

"Don't!" she begged. "Don't you see that I wouldn't let them force me?It is that I see the inexorable call of it, as my father saw it when heleft his studio in Paris for a throne that meant only unhappiness--asyou would see it, if your country called for volunteers. "

He bowed his head. For a moment neither spoke. Then she took the rosefrom her breast and kissed it. 

"Sir Knight of the Red Rose, " she said, with a pitifully forced smile. "I don't want to give it back--ever. I want to keep it always. "

He took her in his arms, and she offered no protest. 

"To-morrow is to-morrow, " he said. "To-day you are mine. I love you. "

She took his head between her palms and drew his face down. "I shallnever do this with anyone else, " she said slowly, kissing his forehead. "I love you. "

Slowly they turned together toward the house. 

"I like your cavalryman, Pagratide, " he said thoughtfully. His mind hadsuddenly recurred to the scene in the foreigner's room, and he thoughthe began to understand. "He is a man. He dares to challenge royal wrathby venturing his love in the lists against his prince. "

"I wish he had not come, " she said slowly. 

"But you don't love him?" he demanded with sudden unreasoning jealousy. 

"I love--just, only, solely, you, Mr. Monopoly, " she replied. 

At the door they paused. There was complete silence save for a clockstriking two and the distant crowing of a cock. The pause belonged tothem--their moment of reprieve. 

At last she said quietly: "But you are stupid not to guess it. "

"Guess what?" he inquired. 

"There is no Pagratide. Pagratide's real name is Karyl of Galavia. "

CHAPTER IV

THE DOCTRINE ACCORDING TO JONESY

If the living-room at "Idle Times" bore the impress of Van Bristow'sindividuality and taste, his den was the tangible setting of hispersonality. 

His marriage had, only eighteen months before, cut his life sharply withthe boundary of an epoch. The den bore something of the atmosphere of amuseum dedicated to past eras. It was crowded with useless junk thatstood for divers memories and much wandering. Many of the pictures thatcumbered the walls were redolent of the atmosphere of overseas. 

There were photographs wherein the master of "Idle Times" and Mr. GeorgeBenton appeared together, ranging from ancient football days tosnapshots of a mountain-climbing expedition in the Andes, dated only twoyears back. 

It was into this sanctum that Benton clanked, booted and spurred, earlythe following morning. 

Ostensibly Van was looking over business letters, but there was a traceof wander-lust in the eyes that strayed off with dreamy truancy beyondthe tree-tops. 

Benton planted himself before his host with folded arms, and stoodlooking down almost accusingly into the face of his old friend. 

"Whenever I have anything particularly unpleasant to do, " began theguest, "I do it quick. That's why I'm here now. "

Van Bristow looked up, mildly astonished. 

During a decade of intimacy these two men had joyously, affectionatelyand consistently insulted each other on all possible occasions. Now, however, there was a certain purposeful ring in Benton's voice whichtold the other this was quite different from the time-honoredaffectation of slander. Consequently his demand for furtherenlightenment came with terse directness. 

Benton nodded and a defiant glint came to his pupils. 

"I come to serve notice, " he announced briefly, "of something I mean todo. "

Van took the pipe from his mouth and regarded it with concentratedattention, while his friend went on in carefully gauged voice. 

"I am here, " he explained, "as a guest in your house. I mean to make waron certain plans and arrangements which presumably have your sympathyand support--and I mean to make the hardest war I know. " He paused, butas Van gave no indication of cutting in, he went on in aggressiveannouncement. "What I mean to do is my business--mine and a girl's--butsince she is your kinswoman and this is your place, it wouldn't be quitefair to begin without warning. "

For a time Bristow's attitude remained that of deep and silentreflection. Finally he knocked the ashes from his pipe and came overuntil he stood directly confronting Benton. 

"So she has told you?" was his brief question at last. 

The other nodded. 

The master of "Idle Times" paced thoughtfully up and down the room. Whenat length he stopped it was to clap his hand on his class-mate'sshoulder. 

"George, " he said, with a voice hardened to edit down the note ofsympathy that threatened it, "you seem to start out with the assumptionthat I am against you. Get that out of your head. Cara has hungered forfreedom. We've felt that she had the right to, at least, her littleintervals of recess. It happened that she could have them here. Here shecould be Miss Carstow--and cease to be Cara of Maritzburg. I am sorry ifyou--and she--must pay for these vacations with your happiness. I seenow that people who are sentenced to imprisonment, should not play withliberty. "

"She is not going to play with liberty, " declared Benton categorically. "She is going to have it. She is going to have for the rest of her lifejust what she wants. " He lifted his hand in protest against anticipatedinterruption. "I know that you have got to line up with your royalrelatives. I know the utter impossibility of what I want--but I'm goingto win. If you regard me as a burglar, you may turn me out, but youcan't stop me. "

"I sha'n't turn you out, " mused Van quietly. "I wish you could win. Butyou are not merely fighting people. You are fighting an idea. It is onlyfor an idea that men and women martyr themselves. With Cara this ideahas become morbid--an obsession. She has inherited it together with anabnormally developed courage, and her conception of courage is to facewhat she most hates and fears. "

"But if I can show her that it is a mistaken courage--that instead ofloyalty it is desertion?" The man spoke with quick eagerness. 

Van shook his head, and his eyes clouded with the gravity of sympathyfor a futile resolve. 

"That you can't do. I am an American myself. I'm not policing thrones. To me it seems a monstrous thing that a girl superbly American ineverything but the accident of birth should have no chance--noopportunity to escape life-imprisonment. It doesn't altogethercompensate that the prison happens to be a palace. "

For a time neither spoke, then Bristow went on. 

"At the age of five, Cara stood before a mirror and critically surveyedherself. At the end of the scrutiny she turned away with a satisfiedsigh. 'I finks I'm lovely, ' she announced. At five one is frank. Herverdict has since then been duly and reliably confirmed by everyone whohas known her--yet she might as well have been born into unbeautiful, hopeless slavery. "

Benton went to the window and stood moodily looking out. Finally hewheeled to demand: "How did the crown of Maritzburg come to your uncle?"

"When he married my aunt, " said Bristow, "he fancied himselfsafe-guarded from the ducal throne by two older brothers. That's why hewas able to choose his own wife. He was dedicated with passionateloyalty to his brushes and paint tubes. He saw before him achievement ofthat sort. Assassination claimed his father and brothers, and, facingthe same peril, he took up the distasteful duties of government. Myaunt's life was intolerably shadowed by the terror of violence for him. She died at Cara's birth and the child inherited all the protest andacceptance so paradoxically bequeathed by her heart-broken mother. "

"Realizing that Cara could not hope to escape a royal marriage, herfather looked toward Galavia. There at least the strain was clean ... Untouched by degeneracy and untainted with libertinism. Karyl is asdecent a chap as yourself. He loves her, and though he knows she acceptshim only from compulsion, he believes he can eventually win her love aswell as her mere acquiescence. It's all as final as the laws of theMedes and Persians. "

Again there was a long silence. Bristow began to wonder if it was, withhis friend, the silence of despair and surrender. At last Benton liftedhis face and his jaw was set unyieldingly. 

"Personally, " he commented quietly, "I have decided otherwise. "

 * * * * *

Despite the raw edge on the air, the hardier guests at "Idle Times"still clung to those outdoor sports which properly belonged to thesummer. That afternoon a canoeing expedition was made up river toexplore a cave which tradition had endowed with some legendary tale ofpioneer days and Indian warfare. 

Pagratide, having organized the expedition with that object in view, hadmade use of his prior knowledge to enlist Cara for the crew of hiscanoe, but Benton, covering a point that Pagratide had overlooked, pointed out that an engagement to go up the river in a canoe is entirelydistinct from an engagement to come down the river in a canoe. He citedso many excellent authorities in support of his contention that thematter was decided in his favor for the return trip, and Mrs. Porter-Woodleigh, all unconscious that her escort was a Crown Prince, found in him an introspective and altogether uninteresting young man. 

Benton and the girl in one canoe, were soon a quarter of a mile inadvance of the others, and lifting their paddles from the water theyfloated with the slow current. The singing voices of the party behindthem came softly adrift along the water. All of the singers were youngand the songs had to do with sentiment. 

The girl buttoned her sweater closer about her throat. The man stuffedtobacco into the bowl of his pipe and bent low to kindle it into acheerful spot of light. 

A belated lemon afterglow lingered at the edge of the sky ahead. Againstit the gaunt branches of a tall tree traced themselves starkly. Belowwas the silent blackness of the woods. 

Suddenly Benton raised his head. 

"I have a present for you, " he announced. 

"A present?" echoed the girl. "Be careful, Sir Gray Eyes. You played themagician once and gave me a rose. It was such a wonderful rose"--shespoke almost tenderly, --"that it has spoiled me. No commonplace giftwill be tolerated after that. "

"This is a different sort of present, " he assured her. "This is a god. "

"A what!" Cara was at the stern with the guiding paddle. The man leanedback, steadying the canoe with a hand on each gunwale, and smiled intoher face. 

"Yes, " he said, "he is a god made out of clay with a countenance that ismost unlovely and a complexion like an earthenware jar. I acquired himin the Andes for a few _centavos_. Since then we have been companions. In his day he had his place in a splendid temple of the Sun Worshipers. When I rescued him he was squatting cross-legged on a counter amongsilver and copper trinkets belonging to a civilization younger than hisown. When you've been a god and come to be a souvenir of ruins and deadthings--" the man paused for a moment, then with the ghost of a laughwent on, "--it makes you see things differently. In the twisted squintof his small clay face one reads slight regard for mere systems andcodes. "

He paused so long that she prompted him in a voice that threatened tobecome unsteady. "Tell me more about him. What is his godship's name?"

"He looked so protestingly wise, " Benton went on, "that I named himJonesy. I liked that name because it fitted him so badly. Jonesy is notconventional in his ideas, but his morals are sound. He has seenreligions and civilizations and dynasties flourish and decay, and it hasall given him a certain perspective on life. He has occasionally givenme good council. "

He paused again, but, noting that the singing voices were drawingnearer, he continued more rapidly. 

"In Alaska I used to lie flat on my cot before a great open fire and hisgod-ship would perch cross-legged on my chest. When I breathed, heseemed to shake his fat sides and laugh. When a pagan god from Perulaughs at you in a Yukon cabin, the situation calls for attention. Igave attention. 

"Jonesy said that the major human motives sweep in deep channels, full-tide ahead. He said you might in some degree regulate their floodsby rearing abutments, but that when you try to build a dam to stop theAmazon you are dealing with folly. He argued that when one sets out todam up the tides set flowing back in the tributaries of the heart it iswritten that one must fail. That is the gospel according to Jonesy. "

He turned his face to the front and shot the canoe forward. There wassilence except for the quiet dipping of their paddles, the dripping ofthe water from the lifted blades, and the song drifting down river. Finally Benton added:

"I don't know what he will say to you, but perhaps he will give you goodadvice--on those matters which the centuries can't change. "

Cara's voice came soft, with a hint of repressed tears. "He has alreadygiven me good advice, dear--" she said, "good advice that I can'tfollow. "

CHAPTER V

IT IS DECIDED TO MASQUERADE

The first day of quail-shooting found Van Bristow's guests afield. 

Separated from the others, Benton and Cara came upon a small grove, likean oasis in the stretching acres of stubble. Under a scarlet maple thatreared itself skyward all aflame, and shielded by a festooning profusionof wild-grape, a fallen beech-trunk offered an inviting seat. The girlhalted and grounded arms. 

The man seated himself at her feet and looked up. He framed a question, then hesitated, fearing the answer. Finally he spoke, controlling hisvoice with an effort. 

"Cara, " he questioned, "how long have I?"

Her eyes widened as if with terror. "A very--very little time, dear, "she said. "It frightens me to think how little. Then--then--nothing butmemory. Do you realize what it all means?" She leaned forward and laid ahand on each of his shoulders. "Just one week more, and after that Ishall look out to sea when the sun sinks, red and sullen, into leadenwaters and think of--of Arcady--and you. "

"Don't, Cara!" He seized her hands and went on talking fast andvehemently. "Listen! I love you--that is not a unique thing. You loveme--that is the miracle. And because of a distorted idea of duty, ourlives must go to wreck. Don't you see the situation isludicrous--intolerable? You are trying to live a medieval life in a dayof wireless telegraph and air ships. "

She nodded. "But what are we going to do about it?" she questionedsimply. 

"Cara, dear--if I could find a way!" he pleaded eagerly. "Suppose Icould play the magician!"

He rose and stood back of the log. 

She leaned back so that she might look into his eyes. "I wish youcould, " she mused with infinite weariness. 

He stooped suddenly and kissed the drooping lips with a resentful senseof the monstrous injustice of a scheme of things wherein such lips coulddroop. 

"No, no, no!" she cried. "You must not! I've got to be Queen ofGalavia--I've got to be his wife. " Then, in a quick, half-frightenedtone: "Yet when you are with me I can't help it. It's wicked to loveyou--and I do. "

He smiled through the misery of his own frown. "Am I so bad as that?" hequestioned. 

"You are so bad"--she suddenly caught his hands in hers and slowlyshook her head--"that I don't trust myself on the same side of the roadwith you. You must go across and sit on that opposite side. " She lightlykissed his forehead. "That's a kiss before exile--now go. "

He measured the distance with disapproving eyes. "That must be fifteenfeet away, " he protested, "and my arms are not a yard long. " Hestretched them out, viewing them ruefully. 

"Go!" she repeated with sternness. 

He obeyed slowly, his face growing sullen. 

"If I am to stay here until I recant what I said about your odiouskingdom and your miserable throne, I'll--I'll--" He cast about for asufficiently rebellious sentiment, then resolutely asserted: "I'll stayhere until I rot in my chains. " He raised his hands and shook imaginarymanacles. "Clink! Clink! Clink!" he added dramatically. 

"You are being punished for being too fascinating to a poor little foolprincess who has played truant and who doesn't want to go back toschool. " She talked on with forced levity. "As for the kingdom, "--oncemore her eyes became wistful--"you may say what you like about it. Youcan't possibly hate it as much as I. There is no anarchist screaming hisadherence to the red flag or inventing infernal machines, who hates allthrones as much as the one small girl who must needs be Queen ofGalavia. No, _lèse-majesté_ is not the fault for which you are beingpunished. "

For a while he was silent, then his voice was raised in exile, almostcheerfully. 

"Destiny is stronger than the paretic councils of little inbred kings. Why, Cara, I can get one good, husky Methodist preacher who can do infive minutes what I hardly think your royalties can undo--ever. "

"Oh, don't!" she stopped him with plaintive appeal. "I know all that. Iknow it. Don't you realize that the longer the flight into the open blueof the skies, the harder the return to a gilt cage? But, dearest--thereis such a thing as keeping one's parole. I must go back, unless I amheld by a force stronger than I. I must go back. I have been here almosttoo long. "

"Cara, " he said slowly, "I, too, have a sense of duty. It is to you. Theopen blue of the skies is yours by right--divine right. You have nothingto do with cages, gilt or otherwise. My duty is to free you. I mean todo it. I haven't finished thinking it out yet, but I am going to findthe way. "

Her answering voice was deeply grave. 

"If you just devise a situation where I shall have to fight it all outagain, you will only make it harder for me. I must do what I must do. Icould only be rescued by some power stronger than myself. Come, let'sgo back. "

At dinner that same evening Mrs. Van announced to her guests that "byrequest of one who should be nameless, " punctuating her pledge ofsecrecy with a pronounced glance at Benton, there would be a masqueradeaffair on the evening before Cara's departure for New York. She saidthis was to be an informal sort of frolic in fancy dress, and the onlyrequirement would be that every grown-up should for an evening return tochildhood. 

On the next morning ensued a hegira from the place, the object whereofwas guarded with the most diplomatic deception and secrecy. 

"Why this unanimous desertion?" demanded Van indignantly from the headof the table when it began to develop that an exodus impended. "Do yourappetites crave the stimulus of city cooking? Are you leaving my simpleroof for the lobster palaces?"

Benton shook his head. "Singular, " he commented, studying hisgrape-fruit with the air of an oracle gazing into crystal. "There, forexample, is Colonel Centress who will probably tell you that he has hadan imperative summons to confer with his brokers and--"

He paused, while the ancient beau across the table quickly noddedaffirmation. 

"Quite so. How did you guess it?" he inquired. 

"Never talk business at table, of course, but this is a mysteriousflurry in stocks--quite a mysterious flurry. "

"Quite so, " echoed Benton. "Nevertheless, if you were to shadow thegallant Colonel in Manhattan to-day he would probably lead you to acostuming tailor, where you would discover him in the act of beingfitted with a Roman toga or a crusader's mail. "

Mrs. Porter-Woodleigh shot a malicious glance at the tall foreignerwhose emotionless face proved a constant irritation to her exuberantvivacity. "I understand, Colonel Von Ritz, " she innocently suggested, "that you are to impersonate a polar bear. "

The Galavian smiled deep in his eyes only; his lips remained sober. Onewould have said that he had not recognized the thrust. "I shall onlyremain myself, " he replied. "I am allowed to be a looker-on in Venice. "

Under her breath the widow confided to her next neighbor: "Ah! then itis true. "

"What are _you_ going to town for?" demanded Mrs. Van, lookingaccusingly at Benton, as that gentleman arose from the table. 

"I should say, " he laughingly responded, "that I am going to completefinal arrangements for getting the Isis into commission, but nobodywould believe me. You are all becoming so diplomatic of late!"

Von Ritz glanced up casually. "There is one very dangerousdiplomacy--one very difficult to become accustomed to, " he commented. "I allude to the American diplomacy of frankness. "

"The _Isis_? To think I have never seen your yacht!" mused Cara. "Andyet you are allowing me to cross on a steamer. "

"If she could be put in shape so soon, " declared Benton regretfully, glancing from Von Ritz to Pagratide, "I should shanghai Mrs. Van for achaperon and give a party to Europe. Unfortunately I can't get her inreadiness promptly enough; unless, " he added hopefully, "Miss Carstowcan postpone her sailing-day?"

CHAPTER VI

IN WHICH ROMEO BECOMES DROMIO

When Benton had straightened out his car for the run to the city, andthe road had begun to slip away under the tires, he turned to McGuire, his chauffeur. 

"McGuire, " he inquired, "where is the runabout?"

"At 'Idle Times, ' sir. You loaned it to Mr. Bristow to fill up thegarage. "

"I remember. Now, listen!" And as Benton talked a slow grin ofcontentment spread across the visage of Mr. McGuire, hinting of someenterprise that appealed to his venturesome soul with a lure beyond theordinary. 

In the city, Benton was a busy man, though his visit to the costumer'swas brief. Coming out of the place, he fancied he caught a glimpse ofVon Ritz, but the view was fleeting and he decided that his eyes musthave deceived him. He had himself patronized a rather obscure shop, recommended by Mr. McGuire. Von Ritz would presumably have selected somemore fashionable purveyor of disguises even had his assertion that hewould not masquerade been made only to deceive. Perhaps, thought theAmerican, Colonel Von Ritz was becoming an obsession with him, merelybecause he stood for Galavia and the threat of royalty's mandate. He wasconvinced of this later in the day, when he once more fancied that adisappearing pair of broad shoulders belonged to the European. This timehe laughed at the idea. The surroundings made the supposition ludicrous. It was among the tawdry shops of ship chandlers in the East Side, wherehe himself had gone in search of certain able seamen in the company ofthe sailing-master of the _Isis_. Von Ritz would hardly be consortingwith the fo'castle men who frequent the water front below BrooklynBridge. 

The few days of the last week raced by, with all the charm of sky andfield that the magic of Indian summer can lavish, and for Benton andCara, they raced also with the sense of fast-slipping hope andrelentlessly marching doom. Outwardly Cara set a pace for vivacious andcare-free enjoyment that left Mrs. Porter-Woodleigh, the"semi-professional light-hearted lady, " as O'Barreton named her, "totrail along in the ruck. " Alone with Benton, there was always the furrowbetween the brows and the distressed gaze upon the mystery beyond thesky-line, but Pagratide and Von Ritz were vigilant, to the end thattheir tête-à-têtes were few. 

Neither Benton nor Cara had alluded to the man's overbold assertion thathe would find a way. It was a futile thing said in eagerness. The day ofthe dance, the last day they could hope for together, came unprefaced bydevelopment. To-morrow she must take up her journey and her duty: herholiday would be at its end. It was all the greater reason why thisevening should be memorable. He should think of her afterward as he sawher to-night, and it pleased her that in the irresponsibility of themaskers she should appear to him in the garb of vagabond liberty, sincein fact freedom was impossible to her. 

As the kaleidoscope of the first dance sifted and shifted its pattern ofcolor, three men stood by the door, scanning the disguised figures withwatchful eyes. 

One of the three was fantastically arrayed as a cannibal chief, in brownfleshings, with cuffs upon his ankles, gaudy decorations about his neck, and huge rings in nose and ears. 

The second man was a Bedouin: a camel-driver of the Libyan Desert. Fromthe black horsehair circlet on his temples a turban-scarf fell to hisshoulders. He was wrapped in a brown cashmere cloak which droppeddomino-like to his ankles. Shaggy brows ran in an unbroken line fromtemple to temple, masking his eyes, while a fierce mustache and beardobliterated the contour of his lower face. His cheek-bones and foreheadshowed, under some dye, as dark as leather, and as his gaze searchinglyraked the crowds, he fingered a string of Moslem prayer-beads. 

The third man was conspicuous in ordinary dress. Save for the decorationof the Order of Takavo, suspended by a crimson ribbon on hisshirt-front, and the Star of Galavia, on the left lapel of his coat, there was no break in the black and white scheme of his evening clothes. Von Ritz had told the truth. He was not disguised. He stood, his armsfolded on his breast, towering above the Fiji Islander, possibly aquarter of an inch taller than the Bedouin. A half-amused smile lurkedin his steady eyes--the smile of unwavering brows and dispassionatelysteady mouth-line. 

The cannibal chief waved his hand. "Bright the lamps shone o'er fairwomen and brave men!" he declaimed, in a disguised voice; then scowledabout him villainously, remembering that an affable quoting of LordByron is incompatible with the qualities of a man-eating savage. 

The Bedouin gravely inclined his head. "_Allahu Akbar!_" he responded, in a soft voice. 

Suddenly the caravan driver commenced a hurried and zigzag course acrossthe crowded floor. The eyes of Colonel Von Ritz indolently followed. 

Through a low-silled window a girl had just entered, carrying herselfwith the untrammeled freedom of some wild thing, erect, poised from thewaist, rhythmic in motion. Her walk was like the scansion of good verse. The Bedouin caught the grace before the ensemble of costume met his eye. It was in harmony. 

She wore a silk skirt to the ankles, and about her waist and hips wasbound the yellow and red sash of the Spanish gipsy, tightly knotted, andfalling at its tasseled ends. Her arms were bare to the elbows, and gaywith bracelets; her hair fell from her forehead and temples, droppingover her shoulders in two ribbon bound braids. A tall, gray-cowled monk, whose military bearing gave the lie to his cassock, a Spanish grandee, and a fool in motley saw her at the same moment and hurried to intercepther, but with a slide which carried him a quarter of the way across thefloor the Bedouin arrived first, and before the others had come up hewas drifting away with her in the tide of the dancers. 

"Allah is good to me--Flamencine, " whispered the camel-driver as he drewher close to avoid a careless dancer. 

"Why, Flamencine?" demanded a carefully altered voice, from which, however, the music had not been eliminated. 

"Don't you remember?" The Arab stole a covert, identifying glance downat the tip of one ear which showed under its masking of brown hair--anear that looked as though it were chiseled from the pink coral ofCapri. He quoted:

 "'There was a gipsy maiden within the forest green, There was a gipsy maiden who shook a tambourine. The stars of night had not the face, The woodland wind had not the grace, Of Flamencine. '"

Then the music stopped, and with its silencing came the monk, the clown, the grandee, and others. 

In the insistent demand of the many the Arab had too few dances with theSpanish girl. There were Comanches, Samurai, policemen, Zulus andcourtiers, who, seeing her dance, discovered that their immediateavocation was dancing with her. 

Yet it wanted an hour of unmasking time when a Bedouin led a gipsymaiden from Andalusia into the deserted library, where the darkness wasbroken only by blazing logs on an open hearth. 

When they were alone he turned to her anxiously. His voice was freightedwith appeal. Her face, now unmasked, wore an expression of stunnedmisery. 

"Dear, " he asked, "how are you?"

She gazed at the flickering logs. "I should think you would know, " sheanswered wearily. Then, with a mirthless laugh, she spread both handstoward the blaze. "I'm looking ahead--I can see it all there in thefire. " Her fingers convulsively clenched themselves until blue marksshowed against the pink palms. 

He pushed a chair forward for her, but with a shake of her head shedeclined it. 

"Whoever heard of a gipsy girl sitting in a leather chair?" shedemanded. "It's more like--like some effete princess. "

She dropped to the Persian rug and, gathering her knees between herclasped hands, sat looking into the dying blaze. "For a few briefminutes I am the gipsy girl, " she added. 

"And, " he said, dropping cross-legged to the rug at her side, "when thecaravan halts at evening, and prayers have been said facing Mecca, andthe grunting camels kneel, to be unloaded, neither do we, the gipsies ofthe desert, sit in chairs. " He swayed slightly toward her, lowering hisvoice to a whisper. As the soft touch of her shoulder brushed him andelectrified him, his cashmere-draped arms closed around her and held herhungrily to him. The vagrant maiden of Andalusia and the caravan-driverof Africa sat gazing together at the glowing pictures in the logs asthey turned slowly to ashes. 

"Cara, " he went on in a voice of pent-up earnestness, "we be nomads--wetwo. 'The scarlet of the maples can shake us like the cry of buglesgoing by. ' Come away with me while there is time. Let us follow out ourdestinies where gipsy blood calls us; in the desert, the jungle, wherever you say. Let your fancy be our guide--your heart our compass. Suppose"--he paused and, with one outstretched arm, pointed to thefire--"suppose that to be a camp-fire--what do you see in the coals?"

"I have already told you, " she said wearily. "I see a throne, a lifewith all the confining littleness of a prison, with none of the breadthof an empire. I see the sacrifice of all I love. I see year upon year ofpurple desolation.... Purple is the color of mourning and royalty. "

She fell silent, and he spoke slowly. 

"I see the desert, many-hued, like an opal with the setting of the sun. I see the flickering of camp-fires and the palm-fringe of an oasis. Isee the tapering minarets of a mosque, and the long booths of thebazaars. I smell the scent of the perfume-seller's stall, the heavysweetness of attar of roses.... I hear the tinkle of camel bells.... There comes a change.... I see a mountain-pass and a mule-train crawlingthrough the dust, I see the paths that go around the world. Which of ourpictures do you prefer?"

She gave a pained, low cry, and buried her face passionately on hisshoulder. "Oh, you know, you know!" she cried, in a piteous voice. "Andyou love me, yet you tempt me to break my parole. If I could do it andbe freed of the responsibility! If a miracle could work itself!"

"Cara, " he whispered, resolutely steadying himself, "don't forget thegospel according to Jonesy. You can't dam up the tributaries of theheart. Some day you must come to me. That much is immutably written. ForGod's sake come now while the road is still clear. Otherwise we shallgrope our ways to each other, even if it be through tragedy--throughhell itself. "

For a moment she gazed at him with wide eyes. 

"I know it--" she whispered in a frightened voice. "I know it--and yet Imust go ahead. "

He rose and lifted her; then as she stood clinging to him he said: "Iask your forgiveness if I've made it harder--and one boon. Slip awaywith me and give me an hour with you. "

"They will find me. Pagratide and Von Ritz will find me, " she objectedhelplessly. "They won't let us be alone for long. "

"Listen, " he replied. "It is not too cold and the moon is brilliant. Itis the last real moon for me. Come with me in my car for a while. "

"You must not make love to me, " she stipulated. "I am going to try toget my face properly composed--and if you make love to me, I can't. Besides, when you make love I'm rather afraid of you. So you mustn't. "

Then, with a wild spasmodic gesture, she caught the edges of hiscashmere cloak and gripped them tightly in both hands as she looked upinto his eyes and impetuously contradicted herself. 

"Yes, please do, " she appealed. 

He laughed. "Destiny says I must make love to you, " he asserted, "andwho am I to disobey Destiny?"

Outside, she insisted upon waiting by the bridge while he went for hiscar. So he turned and started alone to the point on the driveway justaround the angle of the house, where McGuire, pursuant to previousorders, was to be waiting with the machine. It had been only an hoursince Benton had slipped away from the dancers and consulted withMcGuire in the shadow of the wall, instructing him explicitly in hisduties. McGuire was to wait with the machine ready upon call. The lampswere not to be lighted. When Benton came, the chauffeur was to run thecar to the point where a lady should enter it. He was at that point toleave, without words. It had been impressed on McGuire that uttersilence was imperative. The chauffeur was then to follow in therunabout, acting as a reserve in the event of need. Both cars were totake a certain circuitous route to a point on the shore thirty milesdistant, the runabout keeping just close enough to hold the first carin sight. McGuire had listened and understood. Yet now McGuire wasmissing, together with one very necessary motor-car. 

As Benton stood, boiling with wrath at the miscarriage of his plans, hefancied he heard the soft muffled song of his motor just beyond the turnwhere the road circled the house. He bent and held a lighted match closeto the gravel. On a muddied spot he found the easily recognizable treadof his tires. The car had been there. For the sake of speed he ran tothe garage near by and took a swift look at the runabout. It waswaiting, and, thanks to the God of Machines, would start on compression. He flung himself to the driver's seat and gave it the spark. Faraway--about as far as the bridge, he calculated--he heard one short, cautious blast of an automobile horn. 

Just before the last turn brought him to the bridge, where he shouldmeet Cara, he noticed a man hurrying toward him, on foot, and recognizedMcGuire. Totally mystified, he slowed down the machine. 

"Get in, you infernal blockhead, " he called. "Tell me about it as we go. I'm in a hurry. "

But McGuire performed strangely. He clapped one hand to his forehead andlooked at his employer out of large, wild eyes. "Am I dippy? My God! AmI dippy?" he exclaimed, repeating the question over and over in a low, trembling voice. 

"Apparently you are. Get in, damn you!" Benton ordered. 

"It's weird, " declared McGuire. "It's damned weird. "

"Why, sir, " he ran on, talking fast, now that the first shock was overand his tongue again loosened. "Either I've made a fool mistake, or elseI'm crazier than hell. I waited at the place you said. You--or yourghost--came and took his seat, and waved his hand. I started the car forthe bridge. He didn't say a word. At the bridge I jumped out. He wasyou--and yet you are here--same size--same costume--same beard--even thesame beads around the neck. "

They had almost reached the bridge and were slowing down when Benton, scanning the road, empty in the moonlight, grasped for the first time adefinite suspicion of what had happened. 

"Cara!" he shouted. "Good God, where is she?"

The chauffeur leaned over and shouted into his ear. "I'm telling you, sir. The lady's in that other car--with that other edition of you. And, sir--beggin' your pardon--they're beatin' it like hell!"

Benton's only answer was to feed gas to the spark so frantically thatthe car seemed to rise from the ground and shiver before it settledagain. Then it shot forward and reeled crazily into a speed neverintended for a curving road at night. 

The moonlight fell on a gray streak of a car, driven by a maniac with ascarf blowing back from a turban over two wildly gleaming eyes. 

Back at "Idle Times" a Capuchin monk, wandering apart from the dancersin consonance with the austere proclaiming of his garb, was studying thefrivolous gamboling of a school of fountain gold-fish in theconservatory. He looked up, scowling, to take a note from a servant. 

"Colonel Von Ritz said to hand this to the gentleman masquerading as amonk, " explained the man. 

"Von Ritz, " growled the monk. "He annoys me. "

He impatiently tore open the letter and scanned it. His brows contractedin astonished mystification, then slowly his eyes narrowed and kindled. 

The scrawl ran:

"Your Highness: If you see neither Mr. Benton, masquerading as an Arab, her Highness, the Princess, nor myself in ten minutes from the time ofreceiving this, take the car which you will find ready in the garage. Myorderly will be there to act as your chauffeur. Follow the main road tothe second village. Turn there to the right, and drive to the smallbay, where you will find me or an explanation. I have been conductingcertain investigations. The affair is urgent and touches matters ofgreat import to Europe as well us to Your Highness. "

CHAPTER VII

IN WHICH DROMIO BECOMES ROMEO

When Cara, waiting at the bridge, had seen the car flash up, a beardedBedouin at the wheel, she had leaped lightly to the seat beside him, without waiting for the machine to come to a full stop; then she hadthrown herself back luxuriously on the cushions with a sigh ofsatisfaction, and had only said: "Drive me fast. "

For a long time she lay back, drinking, in long draughts, the spicednight air, frosted only enough to give it flavor. There was no necessityfor speech, and above, the stars glittered lavishly, despite the whitelight of the moon. 

At last she murmured half-aloud and almost contentedly: "'Who knows butthe world may end to-night?'"

Above the throbbing purr of the engine which had already done ten miles, the man beside her caught the voice, but missed the words. He bentforward. 

"I beg your pardon?" he politely inquired. 

At the question she started violently, and both hands came to her heartwith a spasmodic movement. Von Ritz carried the car around an ugly rut. 

"Don't be alarmed, Your Highness, " he said, in a cold, evenly modulatedvoice which, though pitched low, carried clearly above the noise of thecylinders. "I may call you 'Your Highness' now, may I not? We are quitealone. Or do you still prefer that I respect your incognita?"

The girl's eyes blazed upon him until he could feel their intensefocusing, though he kept his own fixed unbendingly on the road ahead. Finally she mastered her anger enough to speak. 

"Colonel Von Ritz, " she commanded, "you will take me back at once!" Shedrew herself as far away from him as the space on the seat permitted. 

"Your Highness's commands are supreme. " The man spoke in the same evenvoice. "I intend taking Your Highness back--when it is safer for YourHighness to go back. "

He turned the car suddenly to the right and sped along the narrower roadthat led away from the main thoroughfare. 

"You will take me back, now. I had not supposed that to a gentleman--"Her voice choked into silence and her eyes filled with angry tears. 

"Your Highness misunderstands, " he said coldly. "I obey the throne. If Ilive long enough to serve it in another reign, Your Highness will beYour Majesty. Yet even then will your commands be no more supreme tome--no more sacred--than now. But even then, Your Highness--"

"Call me Miss Carstow, " she interrupted in impassioned anger. "I willhave my freedom for to-night at least. "

"Yet even then, Miss Carstow, " he calmly resumed, "when danger threatensyou or your throne, I shall take such means as I can to avert thatdanger, as I am doing now. Even though"--for a moment the cold, metallicevenness left his voice and a human note stole into his words--"eventhough the reward be contempt. "

She did not answer. 

"Your High--Miss Carstow, "--Von Ritz spoke with a deferentialfinality--"believe me, some things are inevitable. "

Suddenly the car stopped. 

The girl made a movement as though she would rise, but the man's armquietly stretched itself across before her, not touching her, butforming an effective barrier. 

She did not speak, but her eyes blazed indignantly. For the first timehe was able to return her gaze directly, and as she looked into theunflinching gray pupils, under the level brows, there was a momentarycombat, then her own dropped. He sat for a space with his armoutstretched, holding her prisoner in the seat. 

"Your Highness"--he spoke as impersonally as a judge ruling from thebench--"I must remind you again that I am your escort to-night only inorder that someone else may not be. What his plans were, I need not nowsay, but I know, and it became my duty to thwart him. It is hardlynecessary to explain how I discovered Mr. Benton's purpose. It was noteasy, but it has been accomplished. I have acquainted myself with hismovements, his intention, and his preparations; I have evencounterfeited his masquerade and stolen his car. There are bigger thingsat stake than individual wishes. I stand for the throne. Mr. Benton hasplayed a daring game--and lost. "

He paused, and she found herself watching with a strange fascination theface almost marble-like in its steadiness. 

"Some day--perhaps soon, " he went on, the arm unmoved, "you will beQueen of Galavia. " She shuddered. "You can then strip away my epauletsif you choose. For the moment, however, I must regard you as a prisonerof war and ask your parole, as a gentleman and an officer, not to leavethe car while I investigate the trouble with the motor. Otherwise--" headded composedly, "we shall have to remain as we are. "

She hesitated, her chin thrown up and her eyes blazing; then, with aglance at the unmoving arm, she bowed reluctant assent. 

"All I promise is to remain in the car, " she said. "May I go back intothe tonneau?"

Satisfying himself that the engine was temporarily dead, he responded, with a half-smile, "That promise I think is sufficient. "

He bent to his task of diagnosis. After much futile spinning of thecrank, he rose and contemplated the stalled engine. 

"Since this machine went out with lamps unlighted, and I have no matchesin this garb, I must go to that farmhouse up the hillside--where thelight shines through the trees--. Will Your Highness regard your paroleas effective until my return, not to leave the car? Yes? I thank YourHighness; I shall not be long. "

The girl for answer honked the horn in several loud blasts, and hestopped with a murmured apology to silence it by tearing off the bulband throwing it to one side. 

The Colonel turned and took his way through the woods, statuesquelyupright and spectral in his long Arab cloak. 

Benton and McGuire had just passed the crossing where Von Ritz had leftthe main road, when McGuire's quick ear caught the familiar tooting ofthe other horn and brought his hand to his employer's arm. The car wasstopped, and McGuire, by match-light, examined the road with its frostymud unmarked by fresh automobile tracks, save those running back fromtheir own tires. 

The runabout turned and slipped along cautiously to the rear, watchfulfor byways. At the cross-road McGuire was out again. His match, heldclose to the mud and gravel, revealed the tread of familiar tires. 

"All right, sir, " he briefly reported. "The other edition went thistrack. "

With a twist of the wheel Benton was again on the trail. Back in theside lane stood a car in which a girl sat alone, solemnly indignant. 

"Cara!" Benton was standing on the step. His voice was tremulous withsolicitude and perplexed anxiety. "Cara!" he repeated. "What does itmean?"

"I don't know, " she responded coolly. "Something seems to be broken. "

"I don't mean that. " McGuire was already investigating. "What does itmean?"

She sighed wearily. 

"When I foolishly agreed to play Juliet to your Romeo, " she informedhim, and her tones were frigid, "I didn't know that your Romeo wasreally only a Dromio. The other edition of you"--he flinched at thewords, and McGuire choked violently--"is back there, I believe, huntingfor matches. "

"She's all right, sir, " interrupted McGuire in triumph. "She'll travelnow. It's only disconnected spark plugs and a short circuiting. "

"Travel, then!" snapped Benton. "Leave the runabout here. The othergentleman may prefer not to walk home. "

As he swung himself into the tonneau, the chauffeur had already seizedthe wheel and the car was backing for the turn. Far back up the hillsidethere was a crashing of underbrush. A spectral figure, struggling withthe unaccustomed drapery of a Bedouin robe, emerged from the woods intothe open, and halted in momentary astonishment. 

"I believe I am under parole--to the other Dromio--not to run away, " shesuggested wearily. 

"Oh, that's all right; I'm doing this and I have no treaty withGalavia, " replied the gentleman pleasantly. "Hit her up a bit, McGuire. "

He took one of the hands that lay wearily in Cara's lap and she did notwithdraw it. She only lay back in the leather upholstery and saidnothing. Finally he bent nearer. 

"Dearest, " he said. There was no answer. 

"Dearest, " he whispered again. 

She only turned her head and smiled forgiveness. 

"What is the matter?" he asked. 

"Oh, I'm so tired--so tired of all of it, " she sighed. "Don't you see?I wish someone bigger than I am would take me away to a place where theyhad never heard of a throne--somewhere beyond the Milky Way. "

He took her in his arms, and the spangle-crowned gipsy head fell heavilyon his shoulder. She stretched up both arms towards the stars, and themoonlight glinted from her gilt bracelets. 

"Somewhere beyond the Milky Way, " she murmured, then collapsed like atired child and lay still. 

"Dearest, " he whispered, "I'll tell you a secret. " He paused andlistened to the rhythmic cylinders throbbing a racing pulse; he lookedback at the white band of road that was being flung out behind them likethread from a falling spool. He held her fiercely to him and kissed her. "I'll tell you a secret. You are being stolen. The _Isis_ is waiting ina little cove, and there is steam in her engines, and a chaplain onboard. If it's necessary I shall run up the skull and cross-bones at hermasthead. Do you hear?" Then, with a less piratical voice: "Dearest, Ilove you. "

She looked up drowsily into his eyes. "You don't have to be such aboa-constrictor, " she suggested. "You are not a cave-man, after all, youknow, if you _are_ taking a lady without asking her. " Then shecontentedly whispered: "I'm going to sleep. " And she did. 

As the car at last swept around a curve and took the shore road, Bentoncaught, far away as yet, the red and green glint of tiny port andstarboard lights on the bridge of the _Isis_, and the long ruby andemerald shafts quivering beneath in the calm waters of the bay. In thelight of a low moon, swinging down the midnight sky, the trim silhouetteof the yacht stood out boldly. 

Cara, after sleeping through the rowboat stage of the journey, awoke onthe deck of the _Isis_ and gazed wonderingly about. In her ears was thesound of anchor chains upon the capstan. 

"Is it a dream?" she asked. 

"It is a dream to me, but I am going to make it real, " he responded. 

She went to the rail. He followed her. 

"I shouldn't have let you, but I was so tired, " she said, "I hardly knewwhere the dream began and the reality ended. Ah, I wish the dream couldcome true. "

"This one is to come true, Cara, " he whispered. 

She shook her head. "Stand still!" she commanded. 

He was bending forward with his elbows on the rail. Suddenly, withsomething like a stifled sob, she caught his head in both arms and heldhim close, so close that he heard her heart pounding and her breathcoming with spasmodic gasps. He put out his arms, but she held him off. 

"No, no; don't touch me now--only listen!"

He waited a moment before she spoke again. 

"You said I was your prisoner. " Her voice dropped in a tremor as thoughthe tears would prevail, but she steadied it and went on. "I wish Iwere. Always I am your prisoner, but I must go back. It is because it iswritten. "

He straightened up and took her in his arms. "I know how you havesettled it, " he said, "but I have stolen you. The anchor is coming up. You love me--I have claimed what is mine. It is now beyond your power, your responsibility. "

"No, it is not, " she softly denied. "I will not marry you--but I loveyou--I love you!"

"You mean that if I hold you my prisoner you will still not be my wife?"he incredulously demanded. 

Slowly she nodded her head. 

The man gazed off with the eyes of one stunned and slowly fought himselfback into control before he trusted his voice. After a while, he raisedhis face and spoke in fragmentary sentences, his voice pitched low, hiswords broken. 

"But you said--just now--back there on the road--you wished someonestronger than yourself--would take you away somewhere--beyond the MilkyWay. "

His tones strengthened and suddenly he almost sang out with recoveredresolution, speaking buoyantly and triumphantly. 

"Dearest, I am stronger than you, and I'm going to take you away--I'mgoing to take you beyond the Milky Way, to the uttermost stars of Love. How can it matter to me how far, if you are there?"

Again she shook her head. 

"No, dear, " she whispered, "you are not so strong as I, in this, becauseI am strong enough to say No when my heart says only Yes--and becauseFate is stronger than any of us. "

"Boat ahoy!" came a voice from the crow's nest. 

"They have come for you, " he said, speaking as through a fog. "Show themhere, " he shouted to an officer who was hurrying to the gangway. 

Two figures came over the side, and slowly followed the first officerforward. One was a Capuchin monk, bearing himself rigidly; at his sidestrode a Bedouin, bedraggled, but erect and military of bearing. Theoriginal Arab turned with a sudden sag of the shoulders and lookedhelplessly out at the path of silver that stretched across the waterbelow, to the moon, now sunk close to the horizon. He waved one hand ina gesture of submission and despair, and stood silent. 

The gipsy girl, standing near, took a sudden step forward and stoodclose to him us the others approached. 

"They may take me back if they wish to, now, " she said, with a suddenlyupflaring defiance. "But they shall find me like this!" And she flungher arms about his neck and kissed him. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE PRINCESS CONSULTS JONESY

The coldness of the moonlight killed the pallor of Karyl's face, butadded a note of stark accentuation to his set chin and laboredself-containment. Von Ritz, despite his bedraggled masquerade was ascomposed and expressionless as though he had seen nothing beyond theexpected. With Von Ritz nothing was beyond the expected. 

He had to-night counterfeited Benton's disguise; stolen Benton's car;substituted himself for the American and made a decisive effort tointerrupt the kidnaping of a Queen. 

Finding himself checkmated, he had joined forces with the Prince andbrought the pursuit to a successful termination. His manner now wasprecisely what it had been last night, when his only excitement had beena game of billiards. Men who knew him would have told you that hismanner had been the same on a certain red and smoky day when the orderof Takavo had been pinned on his breast, in the reek and noise of abattlefield. 

After a moment of tense silence, Benton took a step forward. 

"At any suitable time, " he said, in a voice too low for Cara to catch, "I shall, of course, be entirely at your service. "

Pagratide drew a labored breath, but when he raised his head it was tolift his brows inquiringly. 

"For what?" he asked in an equally low tone. "Have I asked anyquestions?" In a matter-of-fact voice he added: "It is growing late. IfMiss Carstow has finished the inspection of your yacht, I suggest areturn. "

Benton recognized the other's refusal to read his motive. After all thatwas the best course; the only course. Pagratide stepped forward. 

"Mr. Benton had the pleasure of driving you down--" he suggested, "may Ihave the same honor, returning?"

The girl met the eyes of the Prince, with defiance in her own. 

"I am not a child!" she vehemently declared. "We may as well be honestwith each other. If he had chosen to have it so, you could not have comeaboard. I must obey the decrees of State!" She paused, then impulsivelyswept on: "I can force myself to do what I must do, but I cannot compelmy heart--that is his, utterly his. " She raised both hands. "Now youknow, " she said. "You may decide. "

Karyl inclined his head. 

"I have questioned nothing, " he repeated. "Will you honor me byreturning in my car?"

Cara tilted her chin rebelliously. 

"No, " she said, "I don't think I shall. My vacation ends to-morrow ifyou still wish it, but to-night it has not ended. I return with Mr. Benton. "

Pagratide stiffened painfully, but with supreme self-mastery he forced asmile as though he had asked nothing more than a dance--and had found itengaged. 

"I must submit, " he replied in a steady voice. "I even understand. Butyou will agree with me that they"--with a gesture toward the directionfrom which they had come--"had best know nothing. "

Benton and Von Ritz went to the gangway, where the yachtsman bentforward to give some direction to the boat crew below. 

"Karyl!" The girl moved impulsively toward the man she must marry, andlaid a hand on his arm. "Karyl, " she said plaintively, "if you onlywanted to marry me for State reasons--it would be different. It wouldn'thurt me then to hurt you. You mean so much as a friend, but I can neverbe in love with you. You are being unfair with yourself--if you go on. Imust be honest with you. "

Pagratide spoke slowly, and his voice carried the tremor of feeling. 

"You have always been honest with me, and I will make you love me. Untilyou marry me I have no privilege to question you. When you do, I shallnot have to question you. " He leaned forward and spoke confidently. "Iwould marry you if you hated me--and then I would win your love!"

An hour later the Spanish gipsy girl, having shown herself in theemptying ball-room with ingenious excuses for her long absence, tookrefuge in her own apartments. 

On sailing day, Benton, at the pier, watched the steamer stand out intothe river between the coming and going of ferry-boats and tugs. Abouthim stamped the usual farewell throng with hats raised and handkerchiefsa-flutter. The music of the ship's band grew faint as a wider and widergap of water opened between the wharf and the liner's gray hull. 

Gradually the crowd scattered back through the great barn-like spaces ofthe pier-house to be re-absorbed by cabs, motors and surface-cars intothe main arteries of the city's life. It was over. _Bon voyage_ had beensaid. One more ship had put out to sea. 

Benton stood looking after a slim figure in a blue traveling gown anddark furs, pressed against the after-rail, her handkerchief waving inthe raw wind. Most of the sea-going ones had retreated into the shelterof the saloon or cabin, but she remained. 

Van Bristow, shivering at his friend's elbow, did not suggest turningback. 

Cara stood, still looking shoreward, a furrow between her brows, herchecks pale, her fingers tightly gripping the rail. She was holding withthat grip to all her shaken self-command. 

She saw the fang-edged skyline of lower Manhattan lifting its grayshafts through wet streamers of fog; she saw flotillas of squatferry-boats shouldering their ways against the sullen heave of theriver's tide-water; she heard the discordant shriek of their steamthroats; she saw the tilting swoop of a hundred gulls, buffeting thewind; but she was conscious only of the vista of oily water wideningbetween herself and him. 

Von Ritz had long since drifted into the smoking-room where the men werechristening the voyage with brandy-and-soda and dropping into tentativegroups, regardful of future poker games. 

Pagratide, at Cara's elbow, was silent, respecting her silence. 

When at last the two had the deck to themselves and Manhattan had becomea shadowy and ragged monotone, she turned and smiled. It was a smile ofaccepting the inevitable. He went with her to the forward deck whereher staterooms were situated, and left her there in silence. 

Von Ritz, standing apart near the threshold of the smokeroom, heard hisname paged almost before the speaker had entered the door, and turned totake from the hand of the bearer a Marconigram just relayed from shore. He read it and for an instant a look of pain crossed the features thatrarely yielded to expression. Then he sought out Karyl's stateroom. 

Karyl turned wearily from the wintry picture of a sullenly heaving sea, to answer the rap on the door. His face did not brighten as herecognized Von Ritz. 

The Colonel was that type of being upon whom men may depend or whom theymust fear. Whenever there was need, Karyl had come to know that therewould be Von Ritz, but also there went with him an austerity and animpersonality that robbed him of the gratitude and love he might haveclaimed. 

Now there was a note almost surly in the expression with which thePrince looked up to greet his father's confidential representative. 

"Well?" he demanded. 

For answer the officer held out the message. 

Karyl puckered his brows over the intricacies of the code and handed itback. 

"Be good enough to construe it, " he commanded. 

"The King, " said Von Ritz, "is ill. His Majesty wishes to instruct youin certain matters before--" He broke off with something like a catch inhis voice, then continued calmly. "Recovery is despaired of, thoughdeath may not be immediate. "

Karyl turned away, not wishing the soldier to see the tears he felt inhis eyes, and Von Ritz discreetly withdrew as far as the door. There hepaused, and after a moment's hesitation inquired:

"Her Highness goes to Maritzburg--to her father's Court--I presume?"

With his back still turned, the Prince nodded. "Why?" he demanded. 

"Because--the message holds no hope--" Von Ritz paused, then addedquietly "--and if Your Highness is called upon to mount the throne, itis advisable to hasten the marriage. "

He backed out, closing the door behind him. 

In her own cabin the girl had bolted the door. At the small desk of her_suite-de-luxe_ she sat with her head on her crossed arms. For ahalf-hour she remained motionless. 

Finally she rose and, with uncertain hands, opened a suitcase, drawingfrom its place among filmy fabrics and feminine essentials a small, squat figure of time-corroded clay. The little Inca _huaca_ had perhapslooked with that same unseeing squint upon Princesses of otherdynasties so long dead that their heartbreaks and ecstasies were now thesame--nothing. 

She placed the image before her and rested her chin on one hand, gazingat its grotesque and ancient visage. 

Her eyes slowly filled with tears. Again she dropped her face on herarms and the tears overflowed. 

 * * * * *

Benton and Bristow had been sitting without speech as their motorthreaded its way through the traffic along Fourteenth Street, and it wasnot until the chauffeur had turned north on Fifth Avenue that eitherspoke. Then Benton roused himself out of seeming lethargy to inquirewith suddenness: "Do you remember the bull-fight we saw in Seville?"

His companion looked up, suppressing his surprise at a question soirrelevant. 

"You mean the Easter Sunday performance, " he asked, "when that negligent_banderillero_ was gored?"

"Just so, " assented Benton. "Do you remember the chap we met afterwardsat one of the cafés? He was being fêted and flattered for the brilliancyof his work in the ring. His name was Blanco. "

"Sure I remember him. " Van talked glibly, pleased that the conversationhad turned into channels so impersonal. "He was a fine-looking chap withthe grace of a Velasquez dancing-girl and the nerve of a bull-terrier. I remember he was more like a grandee than a _toreador_. We had him dinewith us--hard bread--black olives--fish--bad wine--all sorts of nativetruck. For the rest of our stay in Seville he was our inseparablecompanion. Do you remember how the street gamins pointed us out? Why, itwas like walking down Broadway with your arm linked in that of JimJeffries!"

He paused, somewhat disconcerted by his companion's steady gaze; then, taking a fresh start, he went on, talking fast. 

"Besides sticking bulls, he could discuss several topics in severallanguages. I recall that he had been educated for the Church. If hehadn't felt the lure of the strenuous life, he might have beencelebrating Mass instead of playing guide for us. In the end he'd havewon a cardinal's hat. "

The fixity of the other's stare at last chilled and quelled his chatterto an embarrassed silence. He realized that the object of his mildsubterfuge was transparent. 

"I'm after his address--not his biography, " suggested Benton coolly. "His name was Manuel Blanco, wasn't it?"

"Why, yes, I believe it was. What do you want with him?"

"Never mind that, " returned his friend. "Do you happen to know where helived? I seem to recall that you promised to write him frequentletters. "

"By Jove, so I did, " acknowledged Van with humility. "I must get busy. He is a good sort. His address--" He paused to search through hispocket-book for a small tablet dedicated to names and numbers, thenadded: "His address is _Numero 18, Calle Isaac Peral_, Cadiz. "

Benton was scribbling the direction on the back of an envelope. 

"You needn't grow penitent and start a belated correspondence, " hesuggested. "I am going to write him myself--and I'm going to visithim. "

CHAPTER IX

THE TOREADOR APPEARS

Slowly, with a gesture almost subconscious, Benton slipped an unopenedenvelope from his breast pocket; turned it over; looked at it andslipped it back, still unopened. Then, leaning heavily on his elbow, hegazed off, frowning, over the rail of the yacht's forward deck. 

The waters that lap the quays and wharves of Old Cadiz, green as jadeand quiet as farm-yard pools, were darkening into inkiness toward shore. White walls that had been like ivory were turning into ashy gray behindthe _Bateria San Carlos_ and the pillars of the _Entrada_. The moltensun was sinking into a rich orange sky beyond the Moorish dome andChristian towers of the cathedral. 

Shafts of red and green wavered and quaked in the black dock waters. 

Between the hulks of cork- and salt-freighters, the steam yacht _Isis_slipped with as graceful a motion as that of the gulls. Then when theanchor chains ran gratingly out, Benton turned on his heel and went tohis cabin. 

Behind a bolted door he dropped into a chair and sat motionless. Finallythe right hand wandered mechanically to his breast pocket and broughtout the envelope. He read for the thousandth time the endorsement in thecorner. 

"Not to be opened until the evening of March 5th, " and under that, "Ilove you. "

There was another envelope; an outer one much rubbed from the pocket. Itwas directed in her hand and the blurred postmark bore a date inFebruary. He could have described every mark upon the enclosing coverwith the precision of a careful detective. When his impatient fingershad first torn off the end, only to be confronted by the order: "Not tobe opened until the evening of March 5th, " he had fallen back onstudying outward marks and indications. In the first place, it had beenposted from Puntal, and instead of the familiar violet stamp ofMaritzburg, with which her other letters had been franked during the twomonths past, this stamp was pink, and its medallion bore the profile ofKaryl. 

That she had left Maritzburg, and that she had written him a message tobe sealed for a month, meant that the date of March 5th hadsignificance. That she was in Galavia meant that the significancewas--he winced. 

On the calendar of a bronze desk-set, the first four days of March werealready cancelled. Now, taking up a blue pencil, he crossed off thenumber five. After that he looked at his watch. It wanted one minute ofsix. He held the timepiece before him while the second-hand ticked itsway once around its circle, then with feverish impatience he tore theend from the envelope. 

Benton's face paled a little as he drew out the many pages covered witha woman's handwriting, but there was no one to see that or to notice thetremor of his fingers. 

For a moment he held the pages off, seeing only the "Dearest" at thetop, and the wild way the pen had raced, forming almost shapelesscharacters. 

"Dearest, " she said in part, "I write now because I must turn tosomeone--because my heart must speak or break. All day I must smile asbefits royalty, and act as befits one whose part is written for her. Unless there be an outlet, there must be madness. I have enclosed thisenvelope in another and enjoined you not to read it until March 5th. Then it will be too late for you to come to me. If you came to-night, you would find me hurrying out to meet you and to surrender. Duty wouldso gladly lay down its arms to Love, dear, and desert the fight. 

"To-night I have slipped away from the uniforms, the tawdry mockery of apuppet court, to find the pitiful comfort of rehearsing my heart-acheto you, who own my heart. In my life here every hour is mapped, and Iseem to move from cell to cell. So many obsequious jailers who callthemselves courtiers stand about and seem to watch me, that I feel as ifI had to ask permission to draw my breath. Out in the narrow streets ofthis little picture town, I see dark-skinned, bare-footed girls. Some ofthem carry skins of wine on their heads. All of them are poor. They alsoare gloriously free. As they pass the palace, they look up enviously, and I, from the inside, look out enviously. I know how Richard of theLion Heart felt when he was a prisoner in France, only I have not thecomfort of a Lion Heart, and it is not written in the book of thingsthat you shall pass outside and hear my harp--and rescue me.... Onelittle taste of liberty I give myself. It caused a terrible battle atfirst, but I was stubborn and told them that if I was going to be QueenI was going to do just what I wanted, and that if they didn't like it, they could get some other girl to be Queen, so of course they let me.... There is an old half-forgotten roadway walled in on both sides that runsthrough the town from this horrible palace to the woods upon themountain. There is some sort of foolish legend that in the old days theKings used to go by this protected road to a high point called Look-outRock, and stand there where they could see pretty much all of thismiserable little Kingdom and a great deal of the Mediterranean besides. No one uses it now except me; but I do as often as I can steal away. Idress in old clothes and take the little Inca god with me and no oneknows us. We slip off among the bowlders and pine trees where the viewis wonderful, and as his godship presides on a moss-covered rock and Isit on the carpet of pine needles, he gives me advice. Somewhere inthese woods crowds of children live. They are very shy, and for a longtime looked at me wonderingly from big liquid eyes, but now I have madefriends with them and they come and sit around me in a circle and makeme tell them fairy stories.... 

"Once, dear, I was strong enough to say 'no' to you. Twice I could notbe. "

The reader paused and scowled at the wall with set jaws. 

"But when you read this, almost three thousand miles away, there will beonly a few days between me and (it is hard to say it) the marriage andthe coronation. He is to be crowned on the same day that we are married. Then I suppose I can't even write what is in my heart. "

Benton rose and paced the narrow confines of the cabin. Suddenly hehalted. "Even under sealed orders, " he mused slowly, "one may dispose ofthree thousand miles. They, at least, are behind. " A countenancesomewhat drawn schooled its features into normal expressionlessness, asa few moments afterward he rose to open the door in response to arapping outside. 

As the door swung in a smile came to Benton's face: the first it hadworn since that night when he had taken leave of Hope. 

"You, Blanco!" he exclaimed. "Why, _hombre_, the anchor is scarce down. You are prompt!"

The physically superb man who stood at the threshold smiled. The gleamof perfect teeth accentuated the swarthy olive of his face and the crispjet of his hair. His brown eyes twinkled good-humoredly. Jaw, neck andbroad shoulders declared strength, while the slenderness of waist andthigh hinted of grace--a hint that every movement vindicated. It was thegrace of the bull-fighter, to whom awkwardness would mean death. 

"I had your letter. It was correctly directed--Manuel Blanco, _CalleIsaac Peral_. " The Spaniard smiled delightedly. "When one is once moreto see an old friend, one does not delay. How am I? Ah, it is good ofthe _Señor_ to ask. I do well. I have retired from the _Plaza de Toros_. I busy myself with guiding parties of _touristos_ here and abroad--andin the collection and sale of antiques. But this time, what is yourenterprise or pleasure, _Señor_? What do you in Spain?"

"My business in Spain, " replied Benton slowly, "is to get out of Spain. After that I don't know. Will you go and take chances of anything thatmight befall? I sent for you to ask you whether you have leisure toaccompany me on an enterprise which may involve danger. It's only fairto warn you. "

Blanco laughed. "Who reads _mañana_?" he demanded, seating himself onthe edge of the table, and busying his fingers with the deft rolling ofa cigarette. "The _toreador_ does not question the Prophets. I am atyour disposition. But the streets of Cadiz await us. Let us talk of itall over the _table d'hôte_. "

An hour later found the two in the _Calle Duke de Tetuan_, blazing withlights like a jeweler's show-case. 

The narrow fissure between its walls was aflow with the evening currentof promenaders, crowding its scant breadth, and sending up a medley oflaughter and musical sibilants. Grandees strolled stiffly erect withlong capes thrown back across their left shoulders to show the bravecolor of velvet linings. Young dandies of army and navy, conscious oftheir multi-colored uniforms, sifted along through the press, toyingwith rigidly-waxed mustaches and regarding the warm beauty of theircountrywomen through keen, appreciative eyes, not untinged withsensuousness. Here and there a common _hombre_ in short jacket, wide, low-crowned _sombrero_ and red sash, zig-zagged through thepleasure-seekers to cut into a darker side street whence drifted pungentwhiffs of garlic, black olives and peppers from the stalls of the streetsalad-venders. Occasionally a Moor in fez and wide-bagging trousers, passed silently through the volatile chatter, looking on with jet eyesand lips drawn down in an impervious dignity. 

They found a table in one of the more prominent cafés from which theycould view through the plate-glass front the parade in the street, aswell as the groups of coffee-sippers within. 

"Yonder, " prompted Blanco, indicating with his eyes a near-by group, "hewith the green-lined cape, is the Duke de Tavira, one of the richest menin Spain--it is on his estate that they breed the bulls for the rings ofCadiz and Seville. Yonder, quarreling over politics, are newspaper menand Republicans. Yonder, artists. " He catalogued and assorted for theAmerican the personalities about the place, presuming the curiositywhich should be the tourist's attribute-in-chief. 

"And at the large table--yonder under the potted palms, andhalf-screened by the plants--who are they?" questioned Bentonperfunctorily. "They appear singularly engrossed in their talk. "

"Assume to look the other way, _Señor_, so they will not suspect thatwe speak of them, " cautioned the Andalusian. "I dare say that if onecould overhear what they say, he could sell his news at his own price. Who knows but they may plan new colors for the map of Southern Europe?"

Benton's gaze wandered over to the table in question, then cameuninquisitively back to Blanco's impassive face. It took more thanEuropean politics to distract him. 

"International intrigue?" he inquired. 

The eyes of the other were idly contemplating the street windows, and ashe talked he did not turn them toward the men whom he described. Occasionally he looked at Benton and then vacantly back to the streetparade, or the red end of his own cigarette. 

"There is a small, and, in itself, an unimportant Kingdom withMediterranean sea-front, called Galavia, " said Blanco. Benton's startwas slight, and his features if they gave a telltale wince at the wordbecame instantly casual again in expression. But his interest was nolonger forced by courtesy. It hung from that moment fixed on thenarrative. 

"Ah, I see the _Señor_ knows of it, " interpolated Blanco. "The tall manwith the extremely pale face and the singularly piercing eye who sitsfacing us, "--Blanco paused, --"is the Duke Louis Delgado. He is thenephew of the late King of Galavia, and if--" the Spaniard gave anexpressive shrug, and watched the smoke ring he had blown widen as itfloated up toward the ceiling--"if by any chance, or mischance, PrinceKaryl, who is to be crowned at Puntal three days hence, should be calledto his reward in heaven, the gentleman who sits there would be crownedKing of Galavia in his stead. "

CHAPTER X

OF CERTAIN TRANSPIRINGS AT A CAFÉ TABLE

Benton's eyes seemed hypnotically drawn to the table pointed out, but hekept them tensely riveted on his coffee cup. 

"Yes?" he impatiently prompted. 

"Of course, " continued Blanco absently, "no one could regret moreprofoundly than the Grand Duke any accident or fatality which mightbefall his royal kinsman, yet even the holy saints cannot prevent evilchances!" He paused to sip his coffee. "At the right of 'Louis, theDreamer, ' as he is called, sits the Count Borttorff, who is not greatlyin favor with Prince Karyl. He, too, is a Galavian of noble birth, butParis knows him better than Puntal. He on the left, the man with thepuffed eyes and the dissipated mouth--you will notice also a scar overthe left temple--" Blanco was regarding his cigarette tip as he fleckedan ash to the floor--"is Monsieur Jusseret supposed to be high in theaffairs of the French _Cabinet Noir_. "

"There is one more--and a vacant chair, " suggested Benton. 

The _toreador_ nodded. "True, I had not forgotten the other. Tall, black-haired, not unlike yourself in appearance, _Señor_, save for aheavier jaw and the mustache which points upward. He is an Englishman bybirth, a native of the world by adoption. Once he bore a British armycommission. Now he is seen in distinguished society"--Blancolaughed--"when distinguished society wants something done which cleanmen will not do. His name, just now, is Martin. In many quarters he isbetter known as the English Jackal. Where one sees him one may scentconspiracy. "

In all the life and color compassed between the four walls of Moorishtiles and arches, Benton felt the magnet of the group irresistiblydrawing his eyes to itself. 

"And this gathering about a table for a cup of coffee, in Cadiz--what ofit?" argued Benton. He tried to speak as if his curiosity were diluteand his thoughts west of the Atlantic. "Are they not all known here?"

Again Blanco gave the expressive Spanish shrug. 

"Few people here know any of them. I only said, _Señor_, that if anychance should cause Galavia to mourn her new King that same chance wouldelevate the tall, pale gentleman from a café table to a throne. I didnot say that the chance would occur. "

"And yet?" urged Benton, his eyes narrowing, "your words seem to hintmore than they express. What is it, Manuel?"

The Spaniard took a handful of matches from a porcelain receptacle onthe table. He laid one down. 

"Let that match, " he smilingly suggested, "stand for the circumstance ofthe Grand Duke leaving Paris for Cadiz which is--well, nearer toPuntal--and less observant than Paris. " He laid another on the marbletable-top with its sulphur head close to the first, so that the tworadiated from a common center like spokes from a hub. "Regard that as acoincidence of the arrival of the Count Borttorff from the otherdirection, but at the same time, and at the precise season of thecoronation and marriage of the King. " He looked at the two matches, thensuccessively laid down others, all with the heads at the common center. "That, " he said, "is the joining of the group by the distinguishedFrenchman--that the presence of the English Jackal--that is the chancethat runs against any King or Queen of meeting death. That--" he struckanother match and held it a moment burning in his fingers "--regardthat, _Señor_, as the flaring up of ambitions that are thwarted by alife or two. "

He touched the burning match to the grouped tips of sulphur and histeeth gleamed white as he contemplated the little spurt of hissingflame. Then he dropped his flattened hand upon the tiny eruption andextinguished it, as his sudden grin died away to a bored smile. 

[Illustration: HIS TEETH GLEAMED WHITE AS HE CONTEMPLATED THE LITTLESPURT OF HISSING FLAME. ]

"There, it is over, " he yawned, "and of course it may not happen. _Quiensabe?_"

"And if they should flare up--" Benton spoke slowly, carefully, "othersmight suffer than the King?"

"How should one say? The King alone would suffice, but Kings are rarelyfound in solitude, " reasoned the Andalusian. "For a brief moment Europelooks with eyes of interest on the feasting little capital. The Kingwill not be alone. No, it must be--so one would surmise--at thecoronation. "

"Good God!" Benton gaspingly breathed the exclamation. "But, man, thinkof it--the women--the children--the utterly innocent people--the Queen!"

The Spaniard leaned back, balancing his chair on two legs, his handsspread on the table. "_Si, Señor_, it is regrettable. Yet nothing onearth appears so easy to supply as Kings--except Queens. And after all, what is it to us--an American millionaire--a Cadiz _toreador_?"

For a moment Benton was silent. When he spoke it was in quick, clear-clipped interrogation. 

"You know Puntal and Galavia?"

"As I know Spain. "

"Manuel, suppose the quaking of a throne _does_ interest me, you willgo there with me--even though I may lead you where its fall may crush usboth?"

The Spaniard grinned with a dazzling show of white teeth. His shouldersrose and fell in a shrug. "As well a tumbling castle wall as a chargingbull. "

"Good. The first thing is to learn all we can of Louis and his party. "

"There is, " observed Blanco calmly, "a table on this side also shieldedby plants. From its angle we can observe, --and be ourselves protectedfrom their view. However, we will first go for a stroll in the _calle_and return. The change of position will then be less noticeable. Also, the _Señor's_ forehead is beaded with moisture. The air of the streetwill be grateful. "

As Benton rose he noticed that the Grand Duke was leaning confidentiallytoward the member of the French _Cabinet Noir_. 

Fifteen minutes later the two men were ensconced in their more shelteredcoign, with wine glasses before them, and all the seeming of idle hoursto kill. 

"Is Louis ostensibly a friend of the throne?" demanded the American. 

"Professedly, he is, _Señor_. He will write his felicitations when themarriage and the crowning occur--he will even send suitable gifts, buthe will remain at his café here with his absinthe, or in Paris near thefair Comptessa Astaride, whom he adores, unless, of course, he goes totouch the match. "

"Does he never return to Puntal?"

"Once in five years he has been there. Then he went quietly to hishunting lodge which is ten miles, as the crow flies from the capital, yet barred off by the mountain ridge. It is two days' journey by seafrom Puntal, and save by the sea one comes only through the mountainpass, which is always guarded. Yet on that occasion heliographs reportedhis movements; the King's escort was doubled and the King went littleabroad. "

"Who stands at Louis' back? Revolutionists?"

"_Dios!_ No, _Señor_. The Galavians are cattle. Karyl or Louis, it isone to them. Galavia is a key. The key cares not at what porter's beltit jingles. Europe cares who opens and closes the lock. _Comprende?_Spain cares, France cares, Italy cares, even the Northern nations care. The movement of pawns affects castles and kings. "

Manuel suddenly halted in his flow of talk. "Blessed Saints!" hebreathed softly. "When he comes nearer you will see him--the palmsobscure him now. It is Colonel Von Ritz. He has just entered. He standsnear Karyl and the throne. He is a great man wasted in a toy kingdom. All Europe envies the services which Von Ritz squanders on Galavia. "

Benton looked up with a rush of memories, and was glad that the Galaviancould not see him. 

Like all the men concerned, Von Ritz was inconspicuously a civilian indress, but as he came down the center of the room he was, as always, thecommanding figure, challenging attention. His steady eyes swept theplace with dispassionate scrutiny. His straight mouth-line betrayed noexpression. He came slowly, idly, as though looking for someone. Whenstill some distance from the table where sat the Duke Louis, he haltedand their eyes met. Those of the Duke, as he inclined his head slightly, stiffly, wore a glint of veiled hostility. Those of Von Ritz, as hereturned the salute, no whit more cordially, were blank, except that forthe moment, as he stood regarding the party, his non-committal pupilsseemed to bore into each face about the table and to catalogue them allin an insolent inventory. 

Each man in the group uneasily shifted his eyes. Then Karyl's officerturned on his heel and left the place. Louis watched him, scowling, andas the Colonel passed into the street turned suddenly and spoke in avehement whisper. Jusseret's sardonic lips twisted into a wry smile asthough in recognition of an adversary's clever check. 

The café was now filled. Few tables remained unoccupied, and of these, several were near that of the Ducal party. 

Blanco rose. "Wait for me, _Señor_, " he whispered, then went to thefront of the café where Benton lost him in a crowd at the door. A momentlater he came lurching back. His lower lip was stupidly pendent, hiseyes heavy and dull, and as he floundered about he dropped with theaimless air of one heavily intoxicated into a chair by a vacant tablenot more than ten feet distant from that of Louis, the Dreamer. 

There he remained huddled in apparent torpor and for some momentsunobserved, until the Duke signaled to a passing waiter and indicatedthe _toreador_ with a glance. The waiter came over to Blanco. "The_Señor_ will find another table, " he said with the ingratiating courtesyof one paying a compliment. "It is regrettable, but this one isreserved. " Blanco appeared too stupid to understand, and when finally hedid grasp the meaning he rose with profuse and clumsy apologies andstaggered vacantly about in the immediate neighborhood of the conspiringcoterie. Finally, after receiving further attention and guidance fromthe waiter, he returned to Benton, and dropping into his chair leanedover, his white teeth flashing a satisfied smile. "The matches may notflare, _Señor_, " he said, "but it would appear it was planned. NowMartin and Borttorff cannot go to Puntal. Since the brief visit of VonRitz they are branded men. The others are already known to Karyl'sgovernment. "

Benton sat with his brows knitted intently listening. 

"Now, " went on Blanco, "there is one thing more. They await the man forwhom they hold the empty chair. "

There was a brief silence, then the Spaniard uttered a low exclamationof satisfaction. Benton glanced up to see a young man of frank face, blond mustache and Paris clothes drop into the vacant place with evidentapologies for his tardiness. 

"Ah, " breathed Blanco again, "I feared it would be someone I did notknow. He is the _Teniente_ Lapas, of Karyl's Palace guard. The_pobrecito_! I wonder what post he hopes to adorn at the Court of thePretender. "

For a moment the Spaniard looked on with an expression of melancholyreflection. "That boy, " he said "at last, has the trust and friendshipof the King. Before him lies every prospect of advancement, yet he hasbeen beguiled by the Countess Astaride, and throws himself into a plotagainst Karyl. It is pitiable when one is perfidious so young--and withsuch small cause. "

"Who is the Countess Astaride?" inquired the American. 

"One of the most beautiful women in Europe, to whom these children areplaythings. For her there is only Louis Delgado. It is her firing of hisdreams which makes him aspire to a throne. It is she who has thedetermination. He can see visions of power only in the colors of hisabsinthe glass. She uses men to her ends. Lapas is the latest--unless--"Blanco paused--"unless he is playing two parts, and really serves Karyl. Come, _Señor_, there is nothing further to interest us here. "

CHAPTER XI

THE PASSING PRINCESS AND THE MISTAKEN COUNTESS

With the sapphire bay of Puntal at his back, his knees clasped betweeninterlacing fingers, Benton sat on the stone sea-wall and affected towhistle up a lightness of heart. Near at hand sprawled a picturesquecity, its houses tinted in pea-greens, pinks and soft blues, or as whiteand decorative as though fashioned in icing on a cake. 

Clinging steeply to higher levels and leaning on buttressing walls, layoutspread vineyards and cane fields and gardens. Splotching the wholewith imperial and gorgeous purple, hung masses of bougonvillea betweentrellis and masonry. At a more lofty line, where the sub-tropicalprofusion halted in the warning breath of a keener atmosphere, came thescrub growth and beyond that, in succeeding altitudes, the pine belt, the snow line and the film of trailing cloud on the white peaks. 

Out of the center of the color-splashed town rose the square tower ofthe ancient cathedral, white in a coat of plaster for two-thirds of itsheight, but gray at its top in the nakedness of mossy stone. 

To its dilapidated clock Benton's eyes traveled repeatedly and anxiouslywhile he waited. 

From the clock they wandered in turn to the road circling the bay, andthe cliff at his left, where the jail-like walls of the King's Palacerose sheer from the rock, fifty feet above him. 

From the direction of the Cathedral drifted fragments of band music, andthe bugle calls of marching platoons. Everywhere festivity reigned, working great profits to the keepers of the wine-shops. 

Manuel Blanco turned the corner and Benton slipped quickly down from hisperch on the wall and fell into step as the other passed. 

"It is difficult to learn anything, _Señor_. " The Spaniard spoke low ashe led the way outward from the city. 

"Puntal is usually a quiet place and the festivities have made it like achild at a _fiesta_. One hears only 'Long live the King--the Queen!'There are to be illuminations to-night, and music, and the limit will betaken off the roulette wheels at the Strangers' Club. Bah! One couldhave read it in the papers without leaving Cadiz. "

"Then you have learned nothing?"

"One thing, yes. An old friend of mine has come for the festivities fromthe Duke's estate. He says the pass is picketed and a guard is postedat the Look-out Rock. "

"The Look-out Rock?" Benton repeated the words with an inflection ofinquiry. 

"Yes--look above you at the hill whose summit is less high than theridge peaks--there below the snow. " Blanco suddenly raised his voicefrom confidential undertone to the sing-song of the professional guide. "Yonder, " he said, scarcely changing the direction of his pointedfinger, "is the unfinished sanatorium for consumptives which the Germansundertook and left unfinished. " Two soldiers were sauntering by, smartin newly issued uniforms of tall red caps, dark tunics, sky-bluebreeches, and polished boots. "That point, " went on Blanco, dropping hisvoice again, as they passed out of earshot, "is three thousand, fivehundred feet above the sea. From the rock by the pines--if you had astrong glass, you could see the Galavian flag which flies there--the eyesweeps the sea for many empty leagues. One's gaze can also follow thegorge where runs the pass through the mountains. Also, to the otherside, one has an eagle's glimpse of the Grand Duke's hunting lodge. There is an observatory just back of the rock and flag. The speck oflight which you can see, like a splinter of crystal, is its dome, butonly military astronomers now look through its telescope. There one canread the tale of open shutters or barred windows in the house of Louis, the Dreamer. You understand?"

"Yes. "

"Now, do you see the thread of broken masonry zig-zagging upward fromthe Palace? That is a walled drive which runs part of the way up to therock. In other days the Kings of Galavia went thus from their castle tothe point whence they could see the peninsula spread out below like amap on the page of a school-book. "

"Yes? What else?"

"This. The lodge of the Duke as seen by the telescope sleepsshuttered--an expanse of blank walls. Yet the Duke is there!"

"Louis--in Galavia?"

"Wait. " Blanco laid his hand on the other's arm and smiled. 

"My friend is superstitious--and ignorant. He tells how the Duke has aship's mast with wires on a tower fronting the far side. He says Louistalks with the open sea. "

"A Marconi mast?"

Manuel nodded. 

Benton's eyes narrowed under drawn brows. When he spoke his voice wastense. 

"In God's name, Manuel, " he whispered, "what is the answer?"

The Spaniard met the gaze gravely. "I fancy, _Señor_, " he said slowly, "the matches will burn. "

"When? Where?"

"_Quien sabe?_" Blanco paused to light a cigarette. Two priests, theirblack robes relieved by crimson sashes and stockings, approached, anduntil they were at a safe distance he talked on once more at random withthe sing-song patter of the guide. "That dungeon-like building is theold Fortress _do Freres_. It has clung to that gut of rock out there inthe bay since the days when the Moors held the Mediterranean. It is saidthat the new King will convert it from a fortress into a prison. It isnow employed as an arsenal. "

Slowly the two men moved back to the busier part of the city. Theywalked in silence until they were swallowed in the crowds drifting nearthe Central Avenue. Finally Blanco leaned forward, moved by the anxiousface of his companion. "_Mañana, Señor_, " he suggested reassuringly. "Perhaps we may learn to-morrow. "

"And to-morrow may be too late, " replied Benton. 

"Hardly, _Señor_. The marriage and coronation are the day following. Itshould be one of those occasions. " Benton only shuddered. 

They swung into the _Ruo Centrale_, between lining sycamores, olivetrees and acacias, to be engulfed in a jostling press of feast-dayhumanity. Suddenly Benton felt his coat-sleeve tugged. 

"Let us stop, " Manuel shouted into his ear above the roar of thecarnival clamor. "The Royal carriage comes. "

Between a garden and the pavement ran a stone coping, topped by a talliron grill, and laden with screening vines. The two men mounted thismasonry and clung to the iron bars, as the crowd was driven back fromthe street by the outriders. Before Benton's eyes the whole mass ofhumanity swam in a blur of confusion and vertigo. The passing files ofblue and red soldiery seemed wavering figures mounted on reeling horses. The King's carriage swung into view and a crescendo of cheering went upfrom the crowd. 

Benton saw blurred circles of color whirling dizzily about a steadycenter, and the center was the slender woman at Karyl's side, who wasthe day after to-morrow to become his Queen. He saw the fixed smile withwhich she tried to acknowledge the salutations as the crowd eddied abouther carriage. Her wide, stricken eyes were shimmery with imprisonedtears. To drive through the streets of Puntal with that half-stunnedmisery written clear in lips and eyes, she must, he knew, have reachedthe outmost border of endurance. Karyl bent solicitously forward andspoke, and she nodded as if answering in a dream, smiling wanly. It wasall as some young Queen might have gone to the guillotine rather than toher coronation. As she looked bewilderedly from side to side her glancefell upon the clustering flowers of the vine. Benton gripped the ironbars and groaned, and then her eyes met his. For a moment her pupilsdilated and one gloved hand convulsively tightened on the paneling ofthe carriage door. The man dropped into the crowd and was swallowed up, and he knew by her familiar gesture of brushing something away from hertemples, that she believed she had seen an image projected from atroubled brain. 

"Come, " he said brokenly to his companion, "for God's sake get me out ofthis crowd. "

 * * * * *

The Strangers' Club of Puntal sits high on a solid wall of rock andoverlooks the sea. Its beauty is too full of wizardry to seem real, andwhat nature had done in view and sub-tropical luxuriance the syndicatewhich operates the ball rooms, tea gardens, and roulette wheels hasstriven to abet. To-night a moon two-thirds full immersed the grounds ina bath of blue and silver, and far off below the cliff wall theMediterranean was phosphorescent. In the room where the _croupiers_ spunthe wheels, the color scheme was profligate. 

Benton idled at one of the tables, his eyes searching the crowd in thefaint hope of discovering some thread which he might follow up todefinite conclusion. Beyond the wheel, just at the _croupier's_ elbow, stood a woman, audaciously yet charmingly gowned in red, with ascale-like shimmer of passementerie. A red rose in her black hair threwinto conspicuous effect its intense luster. 

She might have been the genius of _Rouge et Noir_. Her litheness had thepanther's sinuous strength. The vivid contrast of olive cheeks, carminelips and dark eyes, gave stress to her slender sensuousness. 

Hers was the allurement of poppy and passion-flower. In her movementswas suggestion of vital feminine force. 

Perhaps the incurious glance of the American made itself felt, for asshe threw down a fresh _louis d'or_, she looked up and their eyes met. For an instant her expression was almost that of one who stifles animpulse to recognize another. Possibly, thought Benton, she had mistakenhim for someone else. 

"_Mon dieu_, " whispered a voice in French, "the Comptessa d'Astaride ischarming this evening. "

"Ah, such wit! Such charm!" enthused another voice at Benton's back. "She is most perfect in those gowns of unbroken lines, with a singlerose. " Evidently the men left the tables at once, for Benton heard nomore. He also turned away a moment later to make way for an Italian inwhose feverish eyes burned the roulette-lust. He went to the farthestend of the gardens, where there was deep shadow, and a seaward outlookover the cliff wall. There the glare of electric bulbs and blazingdoorways was softened, and the orchestra's music was modulated. Presently he was startled by a ripple of laughter at his shoulder, lowand rich in musical vibrance. 

"Ah, it is not like this in your gray, fog-wrapped country. "

Benton wheeled in astonishment to encounter the dazzling smile of theCountess Astaride. She was standing slender as a young girl, all agleamin the half-light as though she wore an armor of glowing copper andgarnets. 

"I beg your pardon, " stammered the American, but she laid a hand lightlyon his arm and smilingly shook her head. 

"I know, Monsieur Martin, we have not met, but you were with the Duke atCadiz. You have come in his interest. In his cause, I acknowledge noconventions. " In her voice was the fusing of condescension and regalgraciousness. "It was wise, " she thoughtfully added, "to shave yourmustache, but even so Von Ritz will know you. You cannot be tooguarded. "

For an instant Benton stood with his hands braced on the copingregarding her curiously. Evidently he stood on the verge of somerevelation, but the rôle in which her palpable mistake cast him was onehe must play all in the dark. 

"You can trust me, " she said with an impassioned note but withoutelevating her voice. "I am the Countess--"

"Astaride, " finished Benton. 

Then he cautiously added the inquiry: "Have you heard the plans thatwere discussed by the Duke, and Jusseret and Borttorff?"

"And yourself and Lieutenant Lapas, " she augmented. 

"And Lapas and myself, " admitted Benton, lying fluently. 

"I know only that Louis is to wait at his lodge to hear by wirelesswhether France and Italy will recognize his government, " she hastilyrecited; "and that on that signal you and Lapas wait to strike theblow. "

"Do you know when?" inquired the American, fencing warily in the effortto lead her into betrayal of more definite information. 

"It must be soon--or never! But tell me, has Louis come? Has he reachedhis hunting lodge? Does he know that guards are at the rock? Do you, orLapas, wait to flash the signal from the look-out? Ah, how my gaze shallbe bent toward the flag-staff. " Then, as her eyes wandered out to sea, her voice became soft with dreams. She laughed low and shook her head. "Louis, Louis!" she murmured. "When you are King! But tell me--" againshe was anxious, executive, imperious--"tell me everything!"

Obviously he was mistaken for the English Jackal!

Benton countered anxiously. "Yet, Your Majesty, "--he bent low as heanticipated her ambition in bestowing the title--"Your Majesty asks somany questions all at once, and we may be interrupted. "

Once more she was in a realm of air castles as she leaned on the stonecoping and gazed off into the moonlight. "It is but the touching of abutton, " she murmured, "and _allons_! In the space of an explosion, dynasties change places. " Suddenly she stood up. "You are right. Wecannot talk here. I shall be missed. Take this"--she slipped a seal ringfrom her finger. "Come to me to-morrow morning. I am at the Hôtel deFrance. I shall be ostensibly out, but show the ring and you will beadmitted. When I am Queen, you shall not go undecorated. " She gave hishand a warm momentary pressure and was gone. 

CHAPTER XII

BENTON MUST DECIDE

On the next afternoon at the base of the flag-staff above Look-out Rock, Lieutenant Lapas nervously swept the leagues of sea and land, spreadingunder him, with strong glasses. Though the air was somewhat rarer andcooler here than below, beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, andthe cigarettes which he incessantly smoked followed each other with afurious haste which denoted mental unrest. 

At a sound of foliage rustled aside and a displaced rock bumping downthe slope, the watcher took the glasses from his eyes with a nervousstart. 

Up the hill from the left climbed an unknown man. His features werethose of a Spaniard. As the officer's eyes challenged him he halted, panting, to mop his brow with the air of one who takes a breathing spaceafter violent exertion. The newcomer smiled pleasantly as he leanedagainst a bowlder and genially volunteered: "It is a long journey fromthe shore. " Then after a moment he added in a tone of respectfulinquiry: "You are Lieutenant Lapas?"

The officer had regained his composure. He regarded the other with amild scrutiny touched with superciliousness as he nodded acquiescenceand in return demanded: "Who are you?"

"Do you see that speck of white down yonder by the sea?" Blanco drewclose and his outstretched finger pointed a line to the Duke's lodge. "Icome from there, " he explained with concise directness. 

The officer bit his lip. 

"Why did you come?" The Spaniard paused to roll a cigarette before heanswered:

"I come from the Duke, of course. Why else should I climb this accursedladder of hills?"

"What Duke?" The interrogation tumbled too eagerly from the soldier'slips to be consonant with his wary assumption of innocence. "There areso many Dukes. Myself, I serve only the King. "

The Spaniard's teeth gleamed, and there was a strangely disarmingquality in the smile that broke in sudden illumination over his darkface. 

"I have been here only a few days, " explained Blanco. Then, lying withapt fluency, he continued: "I have arrived from Cadiz in the service ofthe Grand Duke Louis Delgado, who will soon be His Majesty, Louis ofGalavia, and I am sent to you as the bearer of his message. " He ignoredthe other's protestations of loyalty to the throne as completely as heignored the frightened face of the man who made them. 

Lapas had whitened to the lips and now stood hesitant. "I don'tunderstand, " he stammered. 

The Spaniard's expression changed swiftly from good humor to thesternness of a taskmaster. 

"The Duke is impatient, " he asserted, "of delays and misunderstandingson the part of his servants. His Grace believed that your memory hadbeen well schooled. Louis, the King, may prove forgetful of those whoare forgetful of Louis, the Duke. "

Lapas still stood silent, pitiably unnerved. If the man was Karyl's spyan incautious reply might cost him his life. If he was genuinely amessenger from the Pretender any hesitation might prove equally fatal. 

Time was important. Blanco drew from his pocket a gold seal ring whichuntil last night had adorned the finger of the Countess Astaride. Uponits shield was the crest of the House of Delgado. At the sight of thefamiliar quarterings, the officer's face became contrite, apologetic, but above all immeasurably relieved. 

"Caution is so necessary, " he explained. "One cannot be too careful. Itis not for myself alone, but for the Duke also that I must have a care. "

Blanco accepted the explanation with a bow, then he spoke energeticallyand rapidly, pressing his advantage before the other's weakness shouldlead him into fresh vacillation. 

"The Duke feared that there might be some misunderstanding as to thesignal and the programme. He wished me to make it clear to you. "

Lapas nodded and, turning, led the way through the pine trees to a smallkiosk that was something between a sentinel box and a signal stationbuilt against the walls of the old observatory. 

"I think I understand, " said Lapas, "but I shall be glad to have yourepeat the Duke's commands and inform me if any changes have been made. "

"No, the arrangements stand unaltered, " replied the Spaniard. "Mydirections were that you should repeat to me the order of yourinstructions and that I should judge for His Grace whether or not yourmemory is retentive. There must be no hitch. "

"I don't know you, " demurred Lapas. 

"His Grace knows me--and trusts me. That should be sufficient, " retortedBlanco. "I bring you credentials which you will refuse to recognize atyour own risk. Unless I were in the confidence of the Duke, I couldscarcely be here with a knowledge of your plans. "

Blanco's eyes blazed in sudden and well simulated wrath. "I have no timeto waste in argument. Choose quickly. Shall I return to Louis and informhim that you refuse to trust those he selects to bear his orders?"

For an instant the Spaniard stood contemptuously regarding the other'sterror, then with a disgusted exclamation he turned on his heel andstarted to the door of the kiosk. But Lapas was in a moment catching athis elbow and protesting himself convinced. He led Blanco back to aseat. 

"Listen. " The Lieutenant sat at the crude table in the center of thesmall room and talked rapidly, as one rehearsing a well-learned lesson. 

"The Fortress _do Freres_ is stocked with explosives. Karyl goes therewith Von Ritz and others of his suite to inspect the place with the viewof turning it into a prison. The Grand Duke, waiting at his huntinglodge, is to receive by wireless the message from Jusseret andBorttorff, who convey the verdict of Europe, as to whether or not it isdecided to recognize his Government. If their message be favorable, hewill raise the Galavian flag on the west tower of the hunting lodge, andI shall relay the message here with the flag at Look-out Point. Thisflag-pole will be the signal to those in the city whose fingers are onthe key, and whose key will explode the powder in _do Freres_. If theflag which now flies from the flag-staff here is still flying when theKing enters the fortress, the cap will explode. If the flag-staff isempty, the King's visit will be uneventful. It will require fifteenminutes for the King to go from the Palace to the Fortress. I must notremain here--I must be where I can see. "

Lapas rose and consulted his watch with nervous haste. "You will excuseme?" he added. "I must be at my post. Are you satisfied?"

Blanco also rose, bowing as he drew back the heavy chair he hadoccupied. "I am quite satisfied, " he approved. His hands were grippingthe chairback and when Lapas had taken two paces to the front, andBlanco had appraised the distance between, the chair left the floor. With the same lightning swiftness of motion that had brought salvos ofapplause from the bull-rings of Cadiz and Seville, he swung it above hishead and brought down its cumbersome weight in an arc. 

Lapas, his eyes fixed on the door, had no hint. A picture of serene skyand steady mountains was blotted from his brain. There was blacknessinstead--and unconsciousness. 

A bleeding scalp told the _toreador_ that the blow had only cut andstunned. 

Rapidly he bound and gagged his captive. Dragging him back through thenarrow room he made certainty doubly sure by tying him to the base ofthe neglected telescope in the abandoned observatory. 

A hundred yards below the rock, tucked out of sight of the man at theflag-pole, stretched a ledge-like strip of level ground, backed by thethick tangle of growth which masked the slope. Beyond its edge ofroughly blocked and crevassed stone, the gorge fell away a dizzythousand feet. Out of the pines struggled the half-overgrown path whereonce a road had led from the castle. This way the earlier Lords ofGalavia had come to look across the backbone of the peninsula, to theeast. 

As Benton paced the ledge impatiently, awaiting the outcome of Blanco'sreconnoiter, he noticed with a nauseating sense of onrushing peril howthe purpled shadows of the mountains were lengthening across the valleyand beginning to creep up the other side. 

Each time his pacing brought him to the edge of the clearing he pausedto look down at the sullen walls of Karyl's castle. 

A woman, flushed and breathless from the climb, pushed through the scrubpines at the path's end and stopped suddenly at the marge of theclearing. Her slender girlish figure, clad in corduroy skirt and bluejersey, was poised with lance-like straightness, and a grace as free asa boy's. Her hands, cased in battered gauntlets, went suddenly to herbreast, as though she would muffle the palpitant heart beneath thejersey. She stood for a moment looking at the man and the ultramarine ofher eyes clouded slowly into gray. The pink flush of exercise diedinstantly to pallor in her cheeks. 

Then the lips overcame an impulse to quiver and spoke slowly in anundertone and with marked effort. "This is twice that I have seen you, "she whispered, "although you are three thousand miles away. "

The man wheeled, not suddenly, but heavily and slowly. "I am real, " heanswered simply. 

Cara put out one hand like a sleep-walker, and came forward, stillincredulous. 

"Cara, dearest one!" he said impetuously. "You must have known that Iwould be near you--that I would be standing by, even though I couldn'thelp!"

She shook her head. "I have been having these hallucinations, you know, of late. " She explained as though to herself. "I guess it's--it's justmissing people so that does it. "

She was close to him now, close, too, to the sheer drop of the cliff, walking forward with eyes wide and fixed on his face. He took a quickstep forward and swept her to him, crushing her against his breast. 

She gave a glad exclamation of realization, and her own arms closedimpulsively around his neck. 

"You are real! You are real!" she whispered, looking into his eyes, hergauntleted hands holding his face between them. 

"Cara, " he begged, "listen to me. It's my last plea. You said in theletter I have in my pocket--there where your heart is beating--that youcould not refuse me if I came again. Dear, this is 'again. ' The _Isis_is a speck out there at sea awaiting a signal. Will you go? I have nothrone to offer, but--"

"Don't, " she cried, holding a hand over his lips. "For a minute--justfor a little golden minute--let us forget thrones. " Then as the furrowcame back between her brows: "Oh, boy, it's my destiny to be alwaysstrong enough to resist happiness when I might have it by being lessstrong, and always too weak to bear bravely what must be borne--when itcan't be helped. "

He stood silent. 

After a moment she went on. "And I love you. Ah, you know that wellenough, but up there beyond your head which I love, I see the green andwhite and blue flag of Galavia which I hate, and destiny commands me tobe disloyal to you for loyalty to it. On the eve of life imprisonment, "she went on, clinging to him, "I have stolen away to play truant perhapsfor the last time--still craving freedom, longing for you; and now Ifind freedom, and you, just to lose you again! I can't--I can't--yes--Ican--I will!"

Suddenly he held her off at arms' length and looked at her with astrange wide-eyed expression of discovery. 

"But, " he cried with the vehemence of a sudden thought, "you are uphere--safe! Safe, whatever happens down there! Nothing that occurs therecan affect you!"

"Safe, of course, " she spoke wonderingly. "What danger is there?"

The man turned. "For God's sake--let me think a moment!" He dropped onthe pine needles and sat with his hands covering his face and hisfingers pressed into his temples. She came over. 

"Does that prevent your thinking?" she softly asked, dropping on herknees at his side and letting one hand rest on his shoulder. 

For moments, lengthening into minutes, he sat immovable, fighting backthe agonized and torrential flood of thought which burst upon him withunwarned temptation. The danger was not after all a danger to the womanhe loved, but a menace to his enemy. She was safe three thousand feetabove the threatening city. He had only to hold his hand, perhaps, for ahalf-hour; had only to keep her here and let matters follow theircourse. 

He was not entertaining the thought, except to assure himself that hecould not entertain it, but it was racking him with its suddenness. TheKing was there--in peril. She was here--safe. Insistently these twofacts assaulted his brain. 

"Pardon, _Señor_. " Blanco broke noisily down through the pines andhalted where the path emerged. For an instant he stood in bewilderedsurprise. 

"Pardon, Your Highness--" he exclaimed, bending low; then, quenching therecognition in his eyes and assuming mistake, he laughed. "Ah, I askforgiveness, _Señorita_. I mistook you for the Princess. The resemblanceis strong. I see my error. "

"Manuel!" Benton rose unsteadily and stared at the _toreador_ with aface pallid as chalk. He spoke wildly, "Quick, Manuel--have you learnedanything?"

The Spaniard glanced inquiringly at the girl, and as Benton noddedreassurance went on in a lowered voice. Only fragments of his speechreached Cara's ears. Her own thoughts left her too apathetic to listen. 

"The plan is this. It is to happen at the Fortress _do Freres_ thisafternoon while the King inspects the arsenal. Now, in fifteen minutes!"He pointed down toward the city. "See, the cortége leaves the Palace!Lapas was to be here at the rock--the blessed Saints help him! He ishobbled to his telescope. " Swiftly he rehearsed the story as it had comefrom the lips of Lapas. 

Benton was studying the Duke's lodge with his glasses. "There is a flagflying on the west tower, " he muttered. 

He turned slowly toward the Princess. Outstanding veins were tracingcordlike lines on his temples. His fingers trembled as he focused theglasses. 

Blanco looked slowly from one to the other. Suddenly he threw back bothshoulders and his eyes grew bright in full comprehension of thesituation he had discovered. 

"_Señor!_" he whispered. 

"Yes?" echoed the American in a dull voice. 

"_Señor_--suppose--suppose I have confused the signals?" The tone wasinsinuating. 

Benton's mind flashed back to a Sunday School class of his childhood andhis infantile horror for the tale of a tempter on a high mountainoffering the possession of all the world if only--if only--

He took a step forward. Speech seemed to choke him. 

"In God's name!" he cried, "you have not forgotten?"

The Spaniard slowly shook his head and smiled. The expression gave tohis face a touch of the sinister. "No--but it is yet possible to forget, _Señor_. I serve no King, I serve you. Sometimes a mistake is the truestaccuracy. _Quien sabe?_"

The Andalusian looked at the girl who stood puzzled and waiting. "Sometimes in the _Plaza de Toros, Señor_, " he went on, speaking rapidlyand tensely, "the throngs cry, '_Bravo, matador_!' and toss coins intothe ring. Yet in a moment the same throngs may shout until theirthroats are hoarse: '_Bravo, toro_!' A King is like a bull in the ring, _Señor_--he has a fickle fate. To me he is nothing--if it pleasesthem--it is their King--let them do as they wish. " He shrugged hisshoulders. 

Benton straightened. "Manuel, " he said with a strained tone, "the flagcomes down. "

The Andalusian smiled regretfully, and once more shrugged his shoulders. 

"As you say, _Señor_, but are you sure you wish it so?"

"Manuel, I mean that!" said the American with a steadied voice. "And forGod's sake, Manuel, " he added wildly, "throw the rope over the gorgewhen you have done it!"

For a moment Benton stood rigid, his hands clenched together at his backas he watched the quick step of the Andalusian climbing to theflag-staff. At last he turned dully and looked down where he could seethe royal cortége, not yet half-way along the road to the fortress, thenhe went over to the girl's side. 

"Cara, " he said, "I have earned the right to kiss you good-by. "

"It's yours without the earning, but good-by--!" She shuddered. "Whatdoes it all mean?" she asked in bewilderment. "What was it youdiscussed?"

"Listen, " he commanded. "Tell Von Ritz or Karyl that Lapas is a traitorand a prisoner in the observatory; that Louis is at his lodge and thatthe Countess Astaride is a conspirator in a plot to assassinate theKing. Tell them that a percussion cap and key connect the magazines of_do Freres_ with the city. "

The Princess looked at him with eyes that slowly widened in amazedcomprehension. "I understand, " she whispered. "And the flag--see, it iscoming down--that means?"

He dropped on one knee and lifted her fingers to his lips. "It meansthat you are to be crowned Queen in Galavia to-morrow, " he answered witha groan. "Long live the Queen!"

CHAPTER XIII

CONCERNING FAREWELLS AND WARNINGS

"To-morrow!" repeated the girl with a shudder. 

Both stood silent under such a strain as cannot be long sustained. Atthe crunch of branch underfoot and the returning Blanco's, "_Señor!Señor!_" both started violently. 

"Look, _Señor_, " exclaimed the Spaniard. "The King has entered thefortress. " Then, seeing that the eyes of both man and girl turned at hiswords from an intent gaze, not on the town but the opposite hills, headded, half-apologetic: "I shall go, _Señor_, and look to my prisoner. If you need me, I shall be there. "

With the same stricken misery in her eyes that they had worn as shepassed in her carriage, Cara remained motionless and silent. 

The bottom of the valley grew cloudy with shadow. The sun was kissinginto rosy pink the snow caps of the western ridge. A cavalcade ofhorsemen emerged at last from _do Freres_ and started at a smart trotfor the Palace. Cara pointed downward with one tremulous finger. Bentonnodded. 

"Safe, " he said, but without enthusiasm. 

"I must go. " Cara started down the path and the man walked beside her asfar as the battered gate which hung awry from its broken columns. Overit now clambered masses of vine richly purple with bougonvillea. Shebroke off a branch and handed it to him. "Purple, " she said again, "isthe color of mourning and royalty. "

Blanco noted the coming of evening and realized that it would be well toreach the level of the city before dark. He knew that if Lapas was to beturned over to Karyl's authorities, steps to that end should be takenbefore he was discovered and released by those of his own faction. Heaccordingly made his way back to the gate. 

Benton was still standing, looking down the alley-way which ran betweenthe half ruined lines of masonry. His shoulders unconsciously sagged. 

The Spaniard approached quietly and stood for a moment unwilling tointerrupt, then in a low voice touched with that affectionate note whichmen are not ashamed to show even to other men in the Latin countries, hesaid: "_Señor_ Benton!"

The American turned and put out his hand, grasping that of the_toreador_. His grip said what his lips left unworded. 

"_Dios mio!_" exclaimed Blanco with a black scowl. "We saved the King, but we bought his life and his throne too high! He cost too dear!"

"Blanco, " Benton spoke with difficulty, "I have brought you with me andyou have asked no questions. The story is not mine to tell. "

The Andalusian raised a hand in protestation. 

"It is not necessary that you tell me anything, _Señor_. I have seenenough. And I know the King was not worth the price. "

Benton shook his head. "Are you going on with me, now that you know whatyou know?"

"_Señor_, it grieves me that you should ask. I told you I was at yourdisposition. " The Spaniard went on talking rapidly, talking with lipsand eyes and gesture. "When you came to Cadiz and took me with you onthe small steamer, I did not ask why. I thought it was as Americans areinterested in all things--or perhaps because the many million _pesetas_of the _Señor's_ fortune might be affected by changing the map ofEurope. No matter. You were interested. It was enough. "

He swept both hands apart. 

"But had I known then what to-day has taught me, I should have held mytongue that evening when the Pretender plotted in the café. "

"To-morrow, " said Benton slowly, "there will be festivity. I can't behere then. I must leave to-night--but you, _amigo mio_, you must stayand watch. If Lapas is taken prisoner and silenced there will be no onein Puntal who will suspect you. No one knew me and if I leave at once, the Countess will hardly learn who was the mysterious man to whom shegave a ring. "

"But, _Señor_, "--Blanco was dubious--"would it not be better that Ishould be with you?"

"You can serve me better by remaining here. I would rather have you nearHer. "

The man from Cadiz nodded and crossed himself. 

"I am pledged, _Señor_, " he asserted. 

"Then, " continued the American, "for a time we must separate. The _Isis_will sail to-night. "

The men walked together to the terminal station of the small ratchetrailway. When they parted the Spaniard and the yachtsman had arranged atelegraph code which might be used by the small but complete wirelessequipment of the _Isis_. An hour later the launch from the yacht tookhim aboard at the ancient stone jetty, where the fruit-venders andwine-sellers shouted their jargon, and the seaweed clung to the landingstage. 

 * * * * *

When Karyl had returned to the Palace after the inspection of theFortress _do Freres_, he had sent word at once to that part of thePalace where Cara had her suite. She was accompanied by her aunt, theDuchess of Apsberg, and her English cousin, Lilian Carrowes, who alsoknew something of the life in America with the Bristows. 

The King craved an interview. He had not seen her since morning and hisrequest conveyed the desolation occasioned by the long interval of emptytime. 

The girl, who in the more informal phases had consistently defied theCourt etiquette, sent an affirmative reply, and Karyl, still in uniformand dust-stained, came at once to the rooms where she was to receivehim. 

There was much to talk of, and the King came forward eagerly, but thegirl halted his protestations and rapidly sketched for him the summaryof all she had learned that afternoon. 

With growing astonishment Karyl listened, then slowly his brows cametogether in a frown. 

It was distasteful to him beyond expression to feel that he owed hislife and throne to Benton, but of that he said nothing. Lapas had been, in the days of his childhood, his playmate. He had been the recipient ofevery possible favor, and Karyl, himself ingenuous and loyal to hisfriends, felt with double bitterness that not only had his enemy savedhim, but, too, his friend had betrayed him. 

Then came a hurried message from Von Ritz, who begged to see the King atonce. The soldier must have been only a step behind his messenger, forhardly had his admittance been ordered when he appeared. 

The officer looked from the King to the Princess, and his eyestelegraphed a request for a moment of private audience. 

"You may as well speak here, " said Karyl dryly. "Her Highness knows whatyou are about to say. "

"Lieutenant Lapas, " began Von Ritz imperturbably, "has not been seen atthe Palace to-day. His duties required his presence this evening. He wasto be near Your Majesty at the coronation to-morrow. "

"Where is he?" demanded the King. 

"That is what I should like to know, " replied Von Ritz. "I learn thatlast night the Count Borttorff was in Puntal and that Lapas was withhim. To-day the Countess Astaride left Puntal, greatly agitated. I aminformed that from her window she watched _do Freres_ with glassesduring Your Majesty's visit there, and that when you left she swooned. Within ten minutes she was on her way to the quay and boarded theout-going steamer for Villefranche. These things may spell gravedanger. "

So rarely had Karyl been able to anticipate Von Ritz in even thesmallest matter that now, despite his own chagrin, he could not repressa cynical smile as he inquired: "What do you make of it?"

Von Ritz shook his head. "I shall report to Your Majesty within anhour, " he responded. 

"That is not necessary, " Karyl spoke coolly. "You will, I am informed, find Lieutenant Lapas bound to a telescope at the Rock. You will findthe explosives at _do Freres_ connected with a percussion cap which wasto have been touched while we were there this afternoon. The Countesswas disappointed because the percussion cap was not exploded. Sometimes, when ladies are bitterly grieved, they swoon. "

For a moment the older man studied the younger with an expression ofsurprise, then the sphinx-like gravity returned to his face. 

"Your Majesty, may I inquire why the cap failed to explode?" he asked, with pardonable curiosity. 

"Because"--Karyl's cheeks flushed hotly--"an American gentleman, who hadbeen here a few hours, intercepted the signal--and reversed it. "

For an instant Von Ritz looked fixedly into the face of the King, thenhe bowed. 

"In that case, " he commented, "there are various things to be done. "

CHAPTER XIV

COUNTESS AND CABINET NOIR JOIN FORCES

When Monsieur François Jusseret, the cleverest unattached ambassador ofFrance's _Cabinet Noir_, had first met the Countess Astaride, hissardonic eyes had twinkled dry appreciation. 

This meeting had seemed to be the result of a chance introduction. Ithad in reality been carefully designed by the French manipulator ofunderground wires. Louis Delgado he already knew, and held in contempt, yet Louis was the only possible instrument for use in converting certainvague possibilities into definite realities. Changing the nebulous intothe concrete; shifting the dotted line of a frontier from here to thereon a map; changing the likeness that adorned a coin or postage-stamp:these were things to which Monsieur Jusseret lent himself with the samezest that actuates the hunting dog and makes his work also his passion. 

If the vacillation of Louis Delgado could be complemented by the strongambition of a woman, perhaps he might be almost as serviceable as thoughthe strength were inherent. And Paris knew that Louis worshiped at theshrine of the Countess Astaride. The Countess was therefore worthinspecting. 

The presentation occurred in Paris, when the Duke took his acquaintanceto the charming apartments overlooking the Arc de Triomphe, where thelady poured tea for a small _salon_ enlisted from that colony ofambitious and broken-hearted men and women who hold fanatically to thefaith that some throne, occupied by another, should be their own. Herewith ceremony and stately etiquette foregathered Carlists andBonapartists and exiled Dictators from South America. Here one heard thegossip of large conspiracies that come to nothing; of revolutions thatgo no farther than talk. 

In Paris the Duke Louis Delgado was nursing, with lukewarm indignation, wrath against his royal uncle of Galavia who had fixed upon him a sortof modified exile. 

Louis had only a languid interest in the feud between his arm of thefamily and the reigning branch. He would willingly enough have taken ascepter from the hand of any King-maker who proffered it, but he wouldcertainly never, of his own incentive, have struck a blow for a throne. 

Sometimes, indeed, as he sat at a café table on the _Champs Elysées_when awakening dreams of Spring were in the air and a military band wasplaying in the distance, dormant ambitions awoke. Sometimes when hewatched the opalescent gleam in his glass as the garçon carefullydripped water over absinthe, he would picture himself wresting from theincumbent, the Crown of Galavia, and would hear throngs shouting "Longlive King Louis!" At such moments his stimulated spirit would indulge inlarge visions, and his half-degenerate face would smile through itsgentle but dissipated languor. 

Louis Delgado was a man of inaction. He had that quality of personaldaring which is not akin to moral resoluteness. He was ready enough at afancied insult to exchange cards and meet his adversary on the field, but a throne against which he plotted was as safe, unless threatened byoutside influences, as a throne may ever be. 

When Louis presented Jusseret to the Countess Astaride there flashedbetween the woman of audacious imagination and the master of intrigue amessage of kinship. The Frenchman bent low over her hand. 

"That hand, Madame, " he had whispered, "was made to wield a scepter. "

The Countess had laughed with the melodious zylophone note that caressedthe ear, and had flashed on Jusseret her smile which was a magic thingof ivory and flesh and sudden sunshine. She had held up the slenderfingers of the hand he had flattered, possibly a trace pleased with theeffect of the Duke's latest gift, a huge emerald set about with smallbut remarkably pure brilliants. She had contemplated it, critically, andafter a brief silence had let her eyes wander from its jewels to theFrenchman's face. 

"Wielding a scepter, Monsieur, " she had suggested smilingly, "is lessdifficult than seizing a scepter. I fear I should need a stronger hand. "

"Ah, but Madame, " the Frenchman had hastened to protest, "these are thedays of the deft finger and the deft brain. Even crowns to-day are notwon in tug-of-war. "

The woman had looked at him half-seriously, half-challengingly. 

"I am told, Monsieur Jusseret, " she said, "that no government in Europehas a secret which you do not know. I am told that you have changed acrown or two from head to head in your career. Let me see _your_ hand. "

Instantly he had held it out. The fastidiously manicured fingers were astapering and white as her own. 

"Madame, " he observed gravely, "you flatter me. My hand has donenothing. But I do not attribute its failure to its lack of brawn. "

"Some day, " murmured Delgado, from his inert posture in the deepcushions of a divan, "when the time is ripe, I shall strike a decisiveblow for the Throne of Galavia. "

Jusseret's lip had half-curled, then swiftly he had turned and flashed alook of inquiry upon the woman. Her eyes had been on Louis and she hadnot caught the quick glint that came into the Frenchman's pupils, or thethoughtful regard with which he studied her and the Duke across the edgeof his teacup. Later, when he rose to make his adieux, she noted thethoughtful expression on his face. 

"Sometimes, " he had said enigmatically, and had paused to allow hismeaning to sink in, "sometimes a scepter stays where it is, not becausethe hand that holds it is strong, but because the outstretched hand isweak or inept. Your hand is suited. "

She had searched his eyes with her own just long enough to make him feelthat in the give-and-take of glances hers did not drop or evade, and he, trained in the niceties of diplomatic warfare, had caught the message. 

So the Countess had been fired with ardent dreams and later, when thetime seemed ripe, it was to her that Jusseret went, and with her that hemade his secret alliance. 

The ambitions cherished by Marie Astaride to become Louis' queen weresecondary to a sincere devotion for Louis himself. 

When at the last he had weakened and threatened to crumple, it was shewho goaded him back to resolution. When the Duke had gone half-heartedlyto his lodge to await the decision of the European Powers, it was shewho went to Puntal to direct the conspirators and watch, from thewindows of her hotel suite, the fortress on the jetty. 

Her one deplorable error had been in mistaking Benton for Martin. Thishad been natural enough. Though she had never met the "English Jackal, "she had once or twice seen him at a distance, and she had been misled bya strong resemblance and an excessive eagerness. 

The afternoon she had spent on the balcony of her suite, her eyes fixedon the Fortress _do Freres_. 

At last, with a wildly beating heart she had seen the King, Von Ritz andthe escort ride up to the entrance and disappear. She hadwaited--waited--waited, her nerves set for the climax, until thecontinued silence seemed an unendurable shock. 

Then the King and escort emerged. She, sitting pale and rigid, saw themmount and turn back unharmed toward the city. Her ears, eagerly set forthe detonation which should shake the town and reverberate along themountain sides, ached with the emptiness of silence. 

Across the street a soldier, off duty and in civilian clothes, sat onthe sea-wall and whittled. Incidentally he noticed that Madame theCountess was interested beyond the usual in some matter. He was there tonotice Madame the Countess. His instructions from Von Ritz had been tokeep a record of her goings and comings, and who came to see her or wentaway. 

Therefore, when the King and his small retinue had trotted past thewindow and when Madame the Countess rose to go in, and when just as shecrossed the low sill of the window she suddenly caught up both hands toher throat and fell heavily to the floor, the soldier, whittling a smallcrucifix, made a record of that also. When a moment later a gentlemanwhom he had not seen in Puntal for months, but whom he knew as the CountBorttorff, because that gentleman had formerly been Major of hisbattalion, hurriedly left a closed carriage and entered the place, theincident was noted. When still later both Borttorff and the Countessemerged and reëntered the conveyance, driving rapidly away, he likewisenoted these things. Going from the pier whither he had followed theclosed carriage, he reported his observations with soldierly dispatch toColonel Von Ritz. 

The Grand Duke Louis meanwhile, waiting in great anxiety, had receivedthe message which had come by the wireless mast. The words were in code, and being translated they read: "France, Italy, Spain, Portugal willrecognize. Strike. " The signature was "Jt. , " which Delgado knew forJusseret. The Duke had been greatly excited. He paced the room in anervous tremor. It was arranged that a small steamer, which had stood ashort distance offshore since yesterday to relay the wireless messageand make it doubly sure, should pick the Duke up as soon as Lapassignaled by a triple dip of the flag that the fortress had beendestroyed. The steamer was then to rush the Grand Duke around the capeto Puntal, bringing him in as though he had come from Spain. Thoseconspirators who were in the capital, strengthened by those who woulddeclare for Louis, with Karyl dead and no other heir existent, wouldproclaim him King. Lapas would see that the royal salute was fired asthe steamer entered the harbor, and the Countess would either meet himand explain all the details or would speak with him by Marconi if shehad left the town. 

Louis spent the forenoon in an agony of anxiety and impatience. Allafternoon he watched through binoculars the white and blue and greenflag on the rock above him. He was waiting for the triple dip thatshould tell him the fortress had been scattered in débris and with itthe government. Evidently the King was late going to the arsenal. 

He had imagined it would be earlier. The hours dragged interminably. Louis walked the stone buttress where the flag which he had raised insignal to Lapas flapped and whipped against its staff. At last hisbinoculars, fixed on the rock, caught the dip of the colors there. Witha great sigh of relief the Duke watched to see them rise and dip, riseand dip again. The flag came down the length of the pole--and did not goup. 

Panic seized the Pretender. There was no way of talking with the ridgethree thousand feet above. It was a climb of an hour and a half by thepass. Evidently there had been a miscarriage. In the prearranged code offlag signals the only provision for the drooping of the colors on thehill was in the event that it should be wished to stop the explosion. That would be only in the event of refusal by the governments torecognize; the governments had not refused! Possibly Lapas had turnedtraitor!

There had also been some unexplained delay seaward. The little steamer, which should have remained near by, was a speck on the horizon, andwithout her there was no possibility of escape. Wildly Louis, theDreamer, hurried to his improvised Marconi station and called the ship. Finally toward evening came a response and with it a message fromsomewhere out at sea, relayed from ship to ship around the peninsula. 

The message said simply in code: "Failure. Make your escape. " It wassigned "M. A. "--Marie Astaride. 

Louis rushed, panic-stricken, down to the shore. He and the few men withhim paced the beach in the settling twilight with desperate anxiety. Thesteamer seemed to creep in, snail-like, over the smooth water. Meanwhilebinoculars fixed on the pass showed a number of small specks siftinglike ants through the lofty opening. Troops were advancing. It was nowthe life-and-death question of which would arrive first, the boats fromthe ship that had stood off at sea a bit too long, or the soldierscoming across the broken backbone of the mountains. 

At last the ship had drawn near, and circled under full steam far enoughout to get away to a flying start as soon as the Ducal party had beentaken on board. Small boats were rushed toward the beach and Louis, theDreamer, with his party waded knee-deep into the water to meet therescuers. 

At the same moment a bugle call announced the coming of Karyl'ssoldiery. 

As Louis Delgado went over the side, he turned quickly back and, leaningover the rail, gazed through the settling darkness toward shore. 

"Do we make for Puntal, Your Majesty?" inquired the captain, saluting. 

Louis turned coldly. "No. "

The officer looked at the Duke for a moment and read defeat in his eyes. 

"Where then--Your Grace?" he inquired. 

Louis winced under the quick amendment of title. "Anywhere, " he saidshortly; "anywhere--except Puntal. "

CHAPTER XV

THE TOREADOR BECOMES AMBASSADOR

Manuel Blanco was ubiquitous during the first days following thecoronation. He listened to the fragments of talk that drifted along thestreets. He frequented the band concerts in the Public Gardens and dranknative vintages in the wine-shops. He elbowed his way naïvely intochattering groups with his ears primed for a careless word. Nowhere didhe catch a note hinting of intrigue or danger. It seemed a soundconclusion that if the plotters had not entirely surrendered theirproject for switching Kings in Galavia, their conspiracies were beingonce more fomented on foreign soil, just as the first plan had beenincubated in Cadiz. 

One evening shortly after the dual celebration, a steamer laden withtourists lay at anchor in the bay, outlined in points of light like aset-piece of fireworks. Hundreds of new sight-seeing faces swarmed alongthe narrow, cobbled streets. This would be a great night in theStrangers' Club and Blanco decided to spend an hour there. 

In evening dress he moved through the gardens and pavilions of thecasino on the rock, where with the coming of darkness the gayety of thetown began to focus and sparkle. 

The coronation of Karyl had brought to an end official mourning for thelate King, and the crêpe which had palled the national insignia on allpublic buildings had been cleared away. With this restoration of publicgayety came a liberal sprinkling of uniforms to the throngs that crowdedthe ball-rooms, tea-gardens and gambling halls. 

Blanco was standing apart, looking on, when he felt a light touch on hisshoulder and turned to find a young officer at his back who smilinglybegged him for a moment in the gardens. The Spaniard noticed that theman who addressed him wore the epaulettes of a Captain of Infantry andthe added stripe and crown of gold lace at the cuff which designatedservice in the household of the reigning family. 

He turned and accompanied the officer through the wide door into thelantern-hung grounds, passing between the groups which clusteredeverywhere about small wicker tea-tables. There were no quiet orsecluded spots in the gardens of the Strangers' Club to-night, but aftera brief glance right and left the Captain led the way to a table in ashadowed niche between two doors. The light there was more shadowed andthe tides of promenaders did not crowd so close upon it as elsewhere. Asthe two came up a third man rose from this table and Manuel foundhimself looking into the flinty eyes of Colonel Von Ritz. 

Von Ritz spoke briefly. If _Señor_ Blanco could spare the time, HisMajesty wished to speak with him. 

The younger officer turned back into the casino and Von Ritz led the_toreador_ through the front gardens, where the tennis courts lay barebetween the palms. The acacias and sycamores were soft, dark spotsagainst the far-flung procession of the stars. 

The street outside was crowded with fiacres and cabs. Von Ritz signaledto a footman and in a moment more Blanco and his escort had stepped intoa closed carriage and were being driven toward the Palace. They enteredby a side passage and the Colonel conducted him through several hallsand chambers filled with uniformed officers, and finally into a moreremote part of the building where they met only an occasional servant. At last they came into a great room entirely empty but for themselves. About the walls hung ripened portraits. The decorations were ofArabesque mosaics with fantastic panels of Moorish tiling. It might havebeen a grandee's house in Seville, patterned on the Alcazar. Evidentlythis was part of a private suite. Heavy portières were only partly drawnacross a wide window with the sill at the floor level, and through themBlanco dimly saw a balcony giving out over a small garden, andcommanding more distantly the harbor and town lights below. Fromsomewhere in the garden came the splashing of a small fountain. 

Here Von Ritz left his charge to himself, silently departing with a bow. For a while the Spaniard remained alone. The room was not so brightlyilluminated as many through which he had come on his way across thePalace. Light filtered through swinging lamps of wrought metal encrustedwith prisms of green and amber and garnet. The Moorish scheme depends inpart upon its shadows. Finally a gentleman entered from a balcony. Hewas neither in uniform nor in evening dress. His face was smooth-shavenand pleasing. 

Blanco fancied this was a secretary or attendant of some sort, and wasconscious of slight surprise that as he entered the place he smoked acigarette with a freedom scarcely fitting the King's personal chambers. At the window the gentleman halted and looked Blanco over with a frankbut not offensive curiosity. Manuel returned the gaze, wondering wherehe had seen the face before, yet unable to identify it. Then thenewcomer crossed and proffered the Spaniard a cigarette from a goldcase, which the _toreador_ declined with a shake of his head. 

"_Gracias, Señor_, " he said, "but I am waiting for the King. "

The other smiled, and the visitor noticed that even in smiling his lipsfell into lines of sadness. 

"None the less, " he said pleasantly, "a man may as well have the solaceof tobacco while he waits--even though he awaits a King. "

The Andalusian once more shook his head, and the other continued tostudy him with that undisguised interest which his eyes had worn fromthe first. 

"So you are one of the two men, " he said, "who learned what all thesecret agents of the Throne failed to unearth. Incidentally it is to youthat the present King owes not only his Crown, but his life as well. " Hepaused. 

"After all, " he went on, "it is neither your fault nor Mr. Benton's thatthe King could have done very well without either the Crown or his life. You restored something which perhaps he held worthless.... But that ishis own misfortune. "

Blanco's expressive face mirrored a shade of resentment. He had come onsummons from the King and found himself listening to the familiar, evendisrespectful, chatter of some underling who laughed at his Monarch andlightly appraised the value of his life while he smoked cigarettes inthe Royal apartments. The Spaniard bowed stiffly. 

"I observe you are in the confidence of the King, " he said, in a tonenot untouched with disapproval. 

The other man's lips curled in amusement. After a moment he replied withsimple gravity. 

"I am the King. "

Blanco stood gazing in astonishment. "You--the King!" Then, recognizingthat the shaving of a mustache and the change into civilian clothes hadmade the difference in a face and figure he had seen only on the streetsand through shifting crowds, he bowed with belated deference. 

Karyl once more held out his case. "Now perhaps you will have acigarette?"

The _toreador_ took one and lighted it slowly. The King went on. 

"My sole pleasure is pretending that I am not a Monarch. Betweenourselves, I should prefer other employment. You, for example, I am toldhave won fame in the bull ring--and it was fame you earned foryourself. "

Blanco flushed, then, bethinking himself of the fact that he had beenbrought here presumably with a purpose, he ventured to suggest: "YourMajesty wished to see me about some matter?"

The other shook his head. 

"No, " he said slowly, "it was not really I who sent for you. It was HerMajesty, the Queen. "

Before he had time for response the _toreador_ caught the sound of ashaken curtain behind him, but since he stood facing the King he did notturn. 

Karyl, however, looked up, and then swiftly crossed the room. As hepassed, Blanco wheeled to face him and was in time to see him holdingback the portières of a door for the Queen to enter. 

She was gowned in black with the sparkle of passementerie and jet, andat her breast she wore a single red rose. As she stood for a moment onthe threshold, despite the majesty of her slender poise it appeared toBlanco that her grace was rather that of something wild and free andthat the Palace seemed to cage her. But that may have been because, asshe paused, her hands went to her breast and a furrow came between herbrows, while the corners of her lips drooped wistfully like a child's. 

The King stooped to kiss her hand, and she turned toward him with asmile which was pallid and which did not dissipate the unhappiness ofher face. Then Karyl straightened and said to Blanco, who felt himselfsuddenly grow awkward as a muleteer: "The Queen. "

Manuel dropped on one knee. At a gesture from Cara he rose and waitedfor her to speak. Karyl himself halted at the door for a moment, thencame slowly back into the room. He picked up from a tabouret adecoration of the Star of Galavia, and, crossing over, pinned it to theSpaniard's lapel. 

"There!" he said, with a good-humored laugh. "You made me a somewhatvalueless present a few days back. You will find that equally useless, Sir Manuel. You may tell Mr. Benton that I envy him such an ally. "

With a bow to the Queen, the King left the apartment. 

For a moment the girl stood at the door, with the same expression andthe same silence, unbroken by her since her entrance, then she turned tothe Spaniard and spoke directly. Her voice held a tremor. 

"How is he?"

"I have not seen him since the day on the mountain, " returned Manuel. 

"He has, in you, a very true friend. "

"Your Majesty, I am his servant, " deprecated the toreador. 

"If I had friends like you, " she smiled, "it would matter little whatthey called themselves. And yet, if there is but one like you, I hadrather that that one be with him. I want you to go to him now and remainwith him. "

"Your Majesty, _Señor_ Benton left me here to watch for recurringdangers. I am now satisfied that nothing threatens, at least for thepresent. I might, as Your Majesty suggests, better be with him. "

"Yes--yes--with him!" she eagerly agreed; then her voice took on thetimbre of anxiety. "I am afraid. Sometimes I am afraid for him. He isnot a coward, but there are times when we all become weak. I appointyou, Sir Manuel--" the girl smiled wanly--"I appoint you my Ambassadorto be with him and watch after him--and, Sir Manuel--" her voice shook alittle with very deep feeling--"I am giving you the office I had ratherhave than all the thrones in Christendom! Will you accept it?"

She held out her hand, and taking it reverently in his own, theAndalusian bowed low over it. He did not kneel, for now he was theAmbassador in the presence of his Sovereign. "With all the Saints for mywitnesses, " he declared fervently, "I swear it to Your Majesty. "

There was gratitude in her eyes as they met the whole-heartedness of thepledge in his. For a moment she seemed unable to speak, though there wasno dimness of tear-mist in her pupils. She stood very upright andsilent, and her breathing was deep. Then slowly her hands came up andloosened the flower at her breast. 

"The King has decorated you, Sir Manuel, " she said. "I don't think Mr. Benton would care for knighthood--and I could not confer it--butsometime--not now--some day after you have both departed from Galavia, give him this. Tell him it may have a message which I may not put inwords. If he can read the heart of a rose deeply enough, perhaps he canfind it there. "

When Blanco had carefully folded the emblem of his embassy in paper anddeposited it in his breast pocket, she gave him her hand again, and, turning, went out through the same door that she had entered. 

Back in the town, Blanco had certain investigations to make. He knew VonRitz's men had been too late to capture the Duke, and that the CountessAstaride had sailed by the steamer leaving for French and Italian ports. Wherever these two conspirators should meet would become the next pointto watch. 

Blanco felt sure that Louis would be willing to drop back into theroutine of his life in Paris, freshly stocked with pessimistic memoriesof how a crown had slipped through his fingers. It would take driving toprevent him lagging into the inertia of sentimental brooding. On theother hand, he knew that the Countess Astaride, having gone so far, would never again relinquish her ambitions. He knew the temper of theCountess's mind from various bits of gossip he had heard and now alsofrom what he had seen. He knew that, while she was entirely willing toparticipate in a murder plot to further her designs, she was not firedsolely by a lust for power. More deeply she was actuated by her wish tomake Louis Delgado a man of potentiality because she loved LouisDelgado. 

That love might evidence itself in savagery toward men who obstructedthe road which her lover must travel to a crown, but it was a ferocityborn of love for the Pretender. 

Since this was true it was not probable that she would allow the matterto end where it stood. Even if she were willing, it was more thancertain that Jusseret had not entered into the undertaking without somesufficient end in view. Having entered it, he would not relinquish itbecause the first attempt had been bungled. 

That same night Manuel sent a message to the _Isis_, saying that he wassailing the following morning by the Genoa steamer and asking that theyacht meet the ship and take him on board. Having done that much, hewent to the hotel where the Countess had stopped and told the clerk thathe had news of importance to communicate to Madame the Countess, andthat he wished to learn her present address. The clerk, like all Puntal, was ignorant of what important matters had just missed happening, but hehad instructions from this lady to assume ignorance as to herdestination. Blanco, however, showed the seal ring which she had saidwould prove a passport to her presence and which Benton had left withhim. He was promptly informed that she had taken passage forVillefranche, and had ordered her mail forwarded there in care of thesteamship agency. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE AMBASSADOR BECOMES ADMIRAL

More suggestive of a stowaway than a millionaire, thought Blanco thefollowing afternoon, when he had come over the side of the _Isis_ andsought out the owner of the yacht. Benton had turned hermit andwithdrawn to the most isolated space the vessel provided. It was reallynot a deck at all--only a space between engine-room grating andtarpaulined lifeboats on what was properly the cabin roof. Here, removedfrom the burnished and ship-shape perfection of the yacht's appointment, he lay carelessly shaven and more carelessly dressed. 

The lazily undulating Mediterranean stretched unbroken save for theyacht's stack, funnels and stanchions, in a sight-wide radius of blue. Overhead the sky was serene. Here and there, in fitful humors, the seaflowed in rifts of a different hue. 

The sun was mellow and the breeze which purred softly in the cablesoverhead came with the caressing breath that blows off the orange grovesof Southern Spain. Ahead lay all the invitation of the south of France;of the Riviera's white cities and vivid countryside; of Monte Carlo'scasinos and Italy's villas. Beyond further horizons, waited the charm ofGreece, but the man lay on an old army blanket, clad in bagging flannelsand a blue army shirt open at the throat. His arms were crossed abovehis eyes, and he was motionless, except that the fingers which grippedhis elbows sometimes clenched themselves and the bare throat above theopen collar occasionally worked spasmodically. 

Blanco had come quietly, and his canvas shoes had made no sound. For atime he did not announce himself. He was not sure that Benton was awake, so he dropped noiselessly to the deck and sat with his hands claspedabout his knees, his eyes moodily measuring the rise and fall of theglaringly white stanchions above and below the sky-line. At frequentintervals they swept back to the other man, who still lay motionless. Itwas late afternoon and the smoke-stack shadows pointed off in attenuatedlines to the bow while the sky, off behind the wake, brightened into thecolors of sunset. Finally Benton rose. The unexpected sight of Blancobrought a start and an immediate masking of his face, but in the firstmomentary glimpse the Andalusian caught a haggard distress whichfrightened him. 

"I didn't know you had come, " said Benton quietly. "How long have youbeen here?"

"I should say a half-hour, _Señor_, " replied Manuel, casually rolling acigarette. 

"Why didn't you rouse me? I'm not very amusing, but even I could haverelieved the dullness of sitting there like a marooned man on aderelict. "

"Dullness?" inquired the _toreador_ with a lazy lift of the brows. "Itis ease, _Señor_, and ease is desirable--at sea. "

The American sat cross-legged on the deck and held out his hand for acigarette. When he asked a question he spoke in matter-of-fact tones. Heeven laughed, and the Andalusian chatted on in kind, but secretly andnarrowly he was watching the other, and when he had finished hisscrutiny he told himself that Benton had been indulging in the dangerouspastime of brooding. 

"Tell me--everything, " urged the yacht-owner. "What are therevolutionists doing and how is--how are things?" Carefully he avoideddirecting any question to the point on which his eagerness for news waspoignant hunger. 

When Blanco told how Louis had left Galavia just before the soldiersreached the lodge, Benton's face darkened. "That was fatal blundering, "he complained. "So long as Delgado is at large the Palace is menaced. If they had taken him, and held him under surveillance, the _CabinetNoir_ would be disarmed. Now they will try again. "

Blanco nodded. 

"There is no charge they can make against him, " he mused. "They cannotbring him back because the government cannot admit its peril. Outwardlyhis bill of health is clean. Assuredly when they let him slip, _Señor_, they committed a grave error. "

Benton rose and paced the deck in deep reflection. At last he halted andspread his hands in a gesture half-despairing. 

"My God!" he said in a low voice. "The anxiety will drive me mad! Yousaw their methods. An entire cortége was to be blown into the air--justto kill Karyl. Next time, what will they attempt?" He broke off with ashudder. 

"I have seen the Queen, " said Blanco slowly. 

Benton wheeled. For an instant his face lighted, then he leaned forward. He said nothing, but his whole attitude was a question. 

"You behold in me, Sir Manuel Blanco, " began the Andalusian grandly. Then, slipping his arm through that of the other man, he began leadinghim around the deck. When he had finished his narrative, he said: "Ibegin my office as Ambassador by delivering this packet. " From hispocket he produced the paper-wrapped rose. "I was instructed to give itto you at some future time. Possibly, _Señor_, I am over-prompt. Lawyersand diplomats should be deliberate. "

The Mediterranean day had died slowly from east to west while the menhad talked, and the last shred of glowing sky was darkening into the seaat the edge of the world astern, when Benton greedily thrust out hishand for the packet. 

"_Gracias_, " he said bluntly, and turning away went precipitously to hiscabin. 

After dinner, when the Captain had betaken himself to the bridge and thesmoke from the Spaniard's cigarettes and Benton's pipe had begun towreathe clouds against the ceiling-beams, Blanco broached his diplomacy. 

In the dulled expressionlessness of the face opposite him and the stoopof the shoulders, Manuel read a need for an active antidote against thecorrosive poison of despair. 

"Where are we going now, _Señor_?"

Benton shrugged his shoulders. 

"'_Quien sabe!_' as you say in Spain. We are simply cruising, drifting, keeping out of sight of land. "

"And drifting is the precise thing, _Señor_, which we must not do. Ihave hitherto done without question what you have said. Now I hold anew dignity. " There was a momentary flash of teeth as he smiled. "AsAmbassador, I make a request. May I be permitted to take entire controlof affairs for a brief time? Also, will you for a few days obey _my_instructions, without question?"

Benton looked across the table at the dark face half-obscured behind ablue fog of cigarette smoke. After a moment he smiled. 

"Admiral, " he said, "issue your orders. "

"You will instruct the Captain, " said Manuel promptly, "to head at oncefor Villefranche. There you, _Señor_, will leave the yacht, and I willgo with it to Monte Carlo. I wish to be as soon as possible in thecasino where the drone of the _croupier_ and the clink of outflowing_louis d'or_ constitute the national refrain. "

Benton's eyes narrowed in perplexity. On his face was written curiosity, but he had agreed to ask no questions. He unhesitatingly put his fingeron the electric bell. 

"Ask the Captain to come here as soon as he is at leisure, " he directedwhen the steward had responded to the call. 

"Good, " commended Blanco. Then with a sorrowful shake of his head hecommiserated: "I am sorry that you are to be denied the excitement ofthe _rouge et noir_ and the _trente et quarente_ of the gold table, _Señor_, but if the Countess Astaride and Louis should meet there, thelady would know you. I fancy that she will not again mistake you forsomeone else. As for myself, neither of them yet knows me. "

"Are they at Monte Carlo?" Benton sat suddenly upright, and Blanco hadthe first reward of his diplomacy, as he noted the quickening interestin the questioning eyes. 

"I am only guessing, _Señor_. If the guess is good, I may learnsomething. What is in my mind, may fail. If you are willing to trust meI would rather not reveal it now. "

"And I?" questioned Benton. "Have I any part to play in this, or do yougo it alone?"

Blanco leaned forward. 

"It may be necessary to have someone near enough to the Palace in Puntalto insure immediate action--action to be taken on the instant.... Youmust return to the city, _Señor_.... It will be for only a few days. TheGrand Palace Hotel is above the town in large gardens.... If you chooseyou can remain there with your presence absolutely unknown, so far asthe city proper is concerned. Also, the Marconi office has a station inthe hotel grounds. With a code which we have yet to arrange, I can keepin touch with you.... "

The next day Benton was a passenger by steamer from Villefranche toPuntal. 

The Grand Palace Hotel, dominating its own acres of subtropical gardens, looks down on the city as one seated on an eminence commands the commonthings at his feet. Between its grounds and the scalloped bay, run thehuddled habitations of the town's water-front, with its delicatelytinted walls and riotously colored gardens invading every crevice. 

Following the semicircle of the bay, the eye commands that othereminence where the King's Palace shuts itself in austerely at the verycenter of the arc. Through the clustered, tea-sipping loungers on thegalleries and terraces Benton made his way several days later, wearingthe studiously affected unconcern of the tourist; an unconcern which hefound it desperately difficult to assume in Puntal. 

Driven by a growing and intense desire to put distance between himselfand all alien humanity, he turned into a narrow, steeply climbing streetwhich ran twisting between toy-houses and vine-cumbered garden-walls, until at last it lost its right to be called a street and became merelya narrow, trail-like path up the mountain-side. The wanderer climbedinterminably. He took no thought of destination and satisfied himselfwith the physical exertion of the laborious going. 

His heart pounded faster as he attained the altitude of the pine woodswhere he seemed to have left humanity behind him. Once or twice he saw ashy, half-wild child who fled from its task of gathering fagots at hisapproach, to gaze at him out of startled eyes from a safe distance. 

Occasionally he would stop to look down, from some coign of vantage, atcascading threads of water tumbling into the gorge below, or at achâlet-like house perched far beneath in its trim patch of agriculture. Finally he stretched himself indolently on a carpet of pine needles atthe brink of a drop to the valley. Then, with a sense of recognition, hesaw the tumbled-down gate of the King's driveway below him to the left, and his face became set and miserable as memory began its work oftearing open wounds not yet old. 

Suddenly there drifted up a chorus of children's laughter. He sat upsuddenly and looked about, but no one was in sight. Again he heard anunmistakable peal of shrill, childish merriment, seemingly close athand. He lay flat and looked over the ledge, holding on to a root of agnarled pine that grew far out at the marge. 

Under him, not more than twenty yards below, on a similar naturalplatform, sat a circle of peasant children, their eyes large withwonderment and interest. In their center, also seated on the earth, wasthe Queen of Galavia. She was dressed in a short walking skirt and ablue jersey, and as the man gripped the pine root to which he held, andgazed over, she lifted an outstretched finger of a gauntleted hand inillustration of some particularly wonderful point of what was palpably aparticularly wonderful fairy story. A third burst of delight came fromthe listening and responsive auditors, who had no idea by whom they werebeing entertained. 

The peasants of Galavia speak Portuguese. As Benton shifted his positionso that he could eavesdrop without being discovered, he found that hecould catch some of the words. 

"Tell us another story--" piped a high treble voice, "--a story aboutthe beautiful Princess who married the King. " The demand was seconded byan immediate clamor of eager voices. 

The girl rose unsteadily and shook her head. For a moment she stoodlooking off over the miles of sea with her hands at her breast and hereyes clouded, oblivious of the small companions of her truancy. Shestretched out both strong young arms toward the Mediterranean. 

Then she heeded the children's clamor again and, turning to them, shelaughed. 

"No, no!" she teasingly answered, and the man above realized for thefirst time that Portuguese is a tongue of liquid music. "These are fairystories without Princesses. These are perfectly good fairy stories, youknow. " Then with a sudden burst of confidence, "In really-truly life, Princesses are not much good. Don't any of you ever be a Princess if youcan help it!" After planting this seed of treasonable ideas she turnedaway, adding: "No, no, no! I've run away and I must go back. To-morrowwe will have a wonderful story--but no more to-day. "

Slowly she made her way down to the old gate, stopping twice to look outto the sea, and above her, choking off the shout that clamored at hislips, the man sat motionless and gave no intimation of his presence. 

Finally he rose and made his way unsteadily back to the city. He walkedslowly down between the wine-shops, noisy with laughter, to the roadalong the bay. Immersed in reflection and forgetful of his resolution tokeep as much as possible out of sight, he went openly and conspicuouslyalong the street that overhangs the water, where at sunset all Puntalpromenades. It was only when a detachment of soldiers in the familiaropera-bouffe uniform went clanking by to change the guard at the Palacegates that he remembered he was to have remained inconspicuous. With asense of chagrin for his indiscretion, he turned into a side streetwhich sloped upward toward his hotel. This street was so little usedthat between its cobble stones tender sprigs of grass made the way asgreen as a turf course. 

CHAPTER XVII

BENTON CALLS ON THE KING

There were several things to harrow Benton's thoughts aside from theingenious tortures of memory. Blanco should have arrived at Monte Carloon the day of their separation. Benton himself had proceeded slowly toPuntal and had now been an isolated guest at the Grand Palace Hotel fortwo days, yet he had heard nothing from Manuel. Still the man from Cadizhad not been idly cruising. The _Isis_ had duly dropped her anchor inthe ultramarine waters where the rock of Monaco juts out like abeckoning finger, and Monte Carlo spreads the marble display of itsrococo façades at the feet of the Maritime Alps. 

That night, in the most detailed perfection of evening dress, hewandered good-humoredly, yet aloof, through the crowds. He haunted thegroups that swarmed about the busy wheels in the casino. He mingled withthe diners upon the terraces of the principal hotels. He brushed elbowswith the strollers along the promenade and about the _Cercle desEtrangers_, and all the while his studiously alert eyes wandered withseeming vacancy of expression over the faces of the men and women whomhe passed. 

Safe in the surety of being himself unknown, he trained his countenanceinto the ennui of one who has no object beyond killing the hour andcontributing his quota to the income of the syndicate. 

The evening was wasted, together with a few _louis_, and the nextmorning found the Spaniard scrutinizing every face along the _Promenadedes Anglais_ at Nice. Then he searched Cannes and Mentone, but byevening he was back again in the sacred City of Black and Red. 

As he disembarked from the yacht's launch and came up the white stairsto the landing-stage, his eyes were still indolently wandering, butbefore he reached the level of the _Boulevard de la Condamine_, theexpression changed with the suddenness of discovery into a glint almosttriumphant. It was only with strong effort that he banished thesatisfied light from his pupils and forced them to wander absentlyagain, along the glitter and color of the palm-lined promenade. 

For Manuel had seen a slender, well-groomed figure leaning on the copingof the sea-wall and gazing out with obvious amusement on the life of theharbor. Although the Spaniard did not allow himself a second glance, heknew that his search was ended. The attention of the man above wasdreamily fixed on the bay where a dozen darting motor-boats cut swiftcourses hither and thither. His attitude was graceful. His bearing mighthave been almost noble except for a deplorable lack of frankness whichspoiled otherwise fine eyes, and a self-indulgent weakness which marredthe angle of the chin. 

The Bay at Monte Carlo is a haven for luxurious craft. Now the Prince ofMonaco's yacht lay at anchor and several others, hardly less handsome, rode snugly offshore, but with the enthusiasm of a connoisseur the tallgentleman disregarded all the rest and let his admiring gaze dwell onthe _Isis_. 

The face was studiously altered. Where there had been a full mustachethere was now only a thinly clipped line, waxed and uptilting in needlepoints. It had been dark brown. Now it was black. The hair formerlybrushed straight back from the forehead now showed beneath the hat-band. The Van Dyke which had masked the receding tendency of the chin wasshaven away. Evidently the gentleman wished to present a changedappearance to the world, but the visionary eyes were unmistakably thoseof Louis, the Dreamer, and in lapses of thought the fingers of the righthand nervously twisted and untwisted, after the manner of an oldpersonal trick. 

As Blanco came up the stairs he brushed clumsily against the strangerand paused to apologize. 

"I am inexcusably awkward, " he avowed with engaging contriteness. 

The Duke protested that it was not worth mention, and added with asmile, "I noticed that you came from that yacht. I think she is one ofthe most beautiful little vessels I have ever seen. "

"Thank you, Monsieur. " Blanco was apparently much flattered. "She isAmerican built, and has some appointments which I have not seenelsewhere. " Then smilingly, but in hot haste, he rushed away. 

During the course of the evening the Andalusian contrived to throwhimself repeatedly across the Duke's path. On each occasion he appearedto be in great haste and under the necessity of immediate departure, though he never left without a cordial word of recognition. He playedhis game so adroitly that at the end of the evening the Duke felt asthough he and the stranger from the American-built yacht were old andpleasant acquaintances. 

It was as they stood watching the stiffer gambling of the elect in theupper room of the Casino, after the wheels below had ceased to spin, that the tall gentleman turned to Blanco. 

"How do you say? Would a cup of coffee or a glass of wine go amiss?"

Without a trace of eagerness, the Andalusian assented and a few minuteslater he found himself across a café table at the Nouvel Hôtel deParis; listening to Louis, the Dreamer's soft voice, and watching theslender fingers which nervously toyed with a Sévres cup. 

"She is extremely beautiful in her lines, " Louis was declaring. "I amfond of yachts that are properly built. I am planning one myself, andeach new vessel holds for me a fresh interest. "

"Ah, indeed!" The Spaniard was delighted. "Then we have fallen upon acommon enthusiasm. I am never so happy as when talking to a keenyachtsman. " Yet so long as the conversation threatened those nauticaltechnicalities in which he was utterly deficient, he managed to let theother do the talking. 

Manuel at last set down his cup and, looking up with a flash, as ofsudden inspiration, suggested: "But doubtless you will be stopping inMonte Carlo a day or two? Possibly you will do me the honor ofinspecting the boat?"

The other protested that his friend was too good. He regarded himselfhighly honored. He would be most charmed. But apparently the idea wasdeveloping and Blanco was conceiving even more extended notions ofhospitality. 

"Stay!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Why not breakfast with me, on board, to-morrow at twelve? The launch will be at the landing at elevenforty-five. I could take you cruising for a few knots, and let you testher sailing qualities, returning in abundant time for dinner and theamusements of the evening. "

Louis gave the matter a moment's reflection, then declared that theprogramme was delightful. He would not be engaged until the evening. 

Blanco laughed uproariously. "It is most amusing, " he declared. "I havehad supper with you--you are to breakfast with me, and I have not yettold you my name!" He was searching for a card-case, which seemingly hehad misplaced. "I cannot find a card. No matter, my name is Sir ManuelBlanco. "

The Duke smiled as he rose from the table and took up hat and cane. "Iwas equally forgetful, " he said. "My name is Monsieur Breuillard. "

The following day had advanced well into the afternoon, and MonsieurBreuillard had punctuated with graceful compliment each point ofexcellence in the equipment of the _Isis_, when Blanco led the way intothe small smoking saloon. 

"Sailing qualities may not have been fairly tested, " admitted SirManuel, "since the sea was serene, the sky brilliant, and the breezeinsufficient to ruffle the water. "

"The more charming, Monsieur!" exclaimed the guest, whose mood after apleasing day was mellow and complacent. 

Blanco waved Monsieur Breuillard to an easy chair and pointed outcigars. As chance would have it, he stood before the door, which he hadjust closed. 

"By the way--Your Grace--" He broke off abruptly to mark the effect ofthe title on the other man. Evidently he found it highly pleasing for hesmiled as the Dreamer winced and came violently to his feet, pale andrigid, but as yet too astounded for speech. 

"I did not tell you, did I, " went on the Spaniard, "that I have been SirManuel Blanco only a few days, and that the title was conferred on me byyour royal kinsman, Karyl of Galavia, for a trifling service inconfounding his enemies? Before that I was a _matador_ in Andalusia. "

Delgado stood petrified, his features livid and his eyes blazing withrage. An instinct warned him that to surrender to passion would be onlyto trap himself more deeply. The man blocking the door filled itsbreadth with his strong shoulders. Louis turned his head and his eyescaught through the open porthole a glimpse of the receding shore-line ofthe Riviera. Blanco followed the glance and smiled. 

"We shall be losing shore in a short time, " he calmly announced. "May Ihave the honor of showing Your Grace to your stateroom?"

 * * * * *

On the next evening Benton emerged from his rooms at the Grand PalaceHotel in Puntal, and threading his way through the loungers on thegalleries, sought out a remote corner of the garden, where, under ablossom-freighted vine, he could hear the surge of the sea, and, in atempered softness, the Viennese waltz of the hotel band. Under him theharbor mirrored lights along the shore and those of ships at anchor. Ata distance the windows of the Palace could be seen. 

"I beg your pardon--"

Benton recognized the coldly modulated voice before he glanced up at thecloaked figure. 

"Colonel Von Ritz, " he said, "I am honored. "

Von Ritz bowed. 

"His Majesty requests that you will do him the honor of coming to thePalace with me--now. "

Despite the form of request in which the summons was couched, Von Ritzclothed it in a coldness that brought to Benton's mind the implacablepoliteness of an arrest. At the hint he stiffened. 

"If His Majesty requests my presence, " he replied with some shortness, "it will be a pleasure to present myself at once. If--" he paused andlooked at the stiffly erect figure before him, "if the peremptory toneyou assume is a part of your instruction, I must remind you that I am anAmerican citizen, entirely free to accept or decline invitations--evenwhen they come from the Palace. "

Von Ritz replied with unruffled gravity. 

"If it will add to your sense of security, Mr. Benton, I shall bepleased to drive you to your Legation and to have your government'srepresentative accompany us. "

Benton flushed. "I was not speaking from any sense of personalinsecurity, " he explained. "But I wished you to understand the manner inwhich I prefer to be approached. "

The Colonel waited with perfect courtesy for the American to finish, then he went on in the same distantly polite tone and manner. "I had notquite finished delivering my message when you--when you began to speak. His Majesty instructs me to say that if you will accompany me to thePalace he will regard it as a courtesy and will be grateful. He commandsme to add that he does not send this message officially or as comingfrom the Court. It is simply that the Count Pagratide wishes to see youand that it is obviously impossible for His Majesty--for the CountPagratide--to call on you here. "

Benton was irritated with himself for his display of temper, and moreirritated with Von Ritz for his calm superiority of manner. His murmuredapology was offered with no very good grace as he turned to follow theother's lead. Opposite the hotel entrance he stopped. 

"Colonel, " he said, "I have been awaiting news from Manuel Blanco. Hemay send a message or come himself, and if so it may be vital for him toestablish instant communication with me. "

"Certainly, " agreed Von Ritz. "I would suggest that you introduce myaide, who may be trusted, at the hotel and that he be instructed tobring you any message. By that means, _Señor_ Blanco, or his news, canfollow you directly to the Palace--and it does not become necessary totake others into your confidence. "

The same young Captain who had summoned Blanco in the Casino was left toact as messenger and Benton, following the officer through a side gateand into a side street, stepped into a closed carriage. 

"I had not supposed that the Palace knew of my presence in Puntal, "commented the American as he took his seat opposite the Colonel ofCavalry. 

"You were seen on the promenade. It was reported from several sources, "Von Ritz made answer. "Also, " he added as an afterthought, "we knew ofyour arrival two hours after you reached Puntal. You registered at thehotel under your own name. "

"Does the Queen also know of my presence?" asked Benton. 

"No, " was the brief reply. 

For the remainder of the drive conversation died. The two men sat mutelyopposite each other as the carriage jolted over the cobble-stonedstreets, until the driver turned into the castle gates. 

Then Von Ritz again leaned forward. 

"Mr. Benton, " he explained, "it happens that this evening a ball isbeing given at the Palace for the members of the Diplomatic Corps. HisMajesty, supposing that you would desire a quiet reception, instructedme to take you to the gardens of his private suite where he will shortlyjoin you; unless, " added Von Ritz courteously, "you prefer theThrone-room and dancing _salles_?"

Benton's reply was prompt. 

"I believe I am to see the Count Pagratide, " he answered. "I am gratefulto the Count for arranging that I might be secluded. "

Blanco had gone into some detail in describing the chamber where he hadmet the King, and later the Queen. Benton now recognized the place towhich he was conducted, from that description. As before, the room wasempty and the portières of the wide windows were partly drawn. Throughthe opening he could see the small area perching on a space redeemedfrom the solid rock. Dark masses against the sky marked the palms of thegarden, and through the window drifted the splashing of a fountainmingled with the distant strains of the same Viennese waltz that thehotel band had been playing. That year you might have heard it from theGolden Gate to Suez and back again from Suez to the Golden Gate. 

CHAPTER XVIII

IN WHICH THE SPHINX BREAKS SILENCE

Left alone, Benton spent ten minutes in the room, then passed throughthe window to the balcony and went down into the miniature garden. Hisface was hot and his pulses heightened. The garden was gratefully cooland quiet. 

From the window, through which he had come, a broad shaft of temperedluminance fell across the fountain and laid a zone of soft light athwartthe low stone benches surrounding it. Then it caught, and faintly edgedwith its glow, the granite balustrade at the shoulder of the cliff. Elsewhere the little garden was enveloped in the velvet blackness of thenight, against which the points of town and harbor lights, far below, were splinters of emerald and ruby. The moon would not rise until late. 

The American strolled over to the shaded margin which was unspoiled bythe light. He brushed back the hair from his forehead and let the seabreeze play on his face. 

Finally a light sound behind him called his attention inward. The Kingand Von Ritz stood together in the doorway. Both were in dress uniform. Karyl, even at the side of the soldierly Von Ritz, was striking in thewhite and silver of Galavia's commanding general. Across his breastglinted the decorations of all the orders to which Royalty entitled him. 

The King, with a deep breath not unlike a sigh, came forward to thefountain. There he halted with one booted foot on the margin of thebasin and his white-gauntleted hands clasped at his back. He had not yetseen Benton, who now stepped out of the shadow to present himself. As hecame into view Karyl raised his eyes and nodded with a smile. 

"Ah, Benton, " he said, "so you came! Thank you. "

The American bowed. He wished to observe every proper amenity of Courtetiquette. He was still chagrined by the memory of his rudeness to VonRitz, yet he was determined that if Karyl had sent for him as the CountPagratide, he must receive him on equal terms and without ceremony. 

"Certainly, " he replied. Then with a short laugh he added: "I have neverbefore been received by a crowned head. If my etiquette proves faulty, you must score it against my ignorance--not my intention. "

"I sent for you, " said Karyl slowly, as the eyes of the two men met infull directness, "and you were good enough to come. I am a crownedhead--yes--that is my damned ill-fortune. Let us, for God's sake, in sofar as we may, forget that! Benton, back there--" his voice suddenlyrose and took on a passionate tremor as he lifted one gauntleted hand ina sweep toward the west--"back there in your country, where you were agrandee of finance and I an impecunious foreigner, there was no ceremonybetween us. If we can forget this livery"--Karyl savagely struck hisbreast--"if you will try to forget that you are looking at a toy King, fancifully trimmed from head to heel in braid and medals--then perhapswe can talk!"

"Your Majesty--" demurred Von Ritz in a tone of deep protest. 

The King swept his arm back as one who brushes an unimportant intruderinto the background. 

"And we must talk, " went on Karyl vehemently, "as two men, not as oneman and a puppet. "

The American stood looking on at the violence of the King's outburstwith a sense of deep sympathy. Again the Colonel stepped forward with aninterposed objection. 

"If I may suggest--" he began in an emotionless inflection which fell instartling contrast with the surcharged vehemence of the other. Then hehalted in the midst of his sentence as Karyl wheeled passionately toface him. 

"My God, Colonel!" cried the King. "There is not a debt of gratitude inlife that I do not owe to you--I and my house! I am crushed under myobligations to you. You have been our strength, our one loyal support, and yet there are times when you madden me!" The officer stood waiting, respectful, impersonal, until the flood of words should subside, but fora while Karyl swept agitatedly on. 

"You wear a sword, Von Ritz, which any monarch in Europe would hire atyour own price. Any government would let you name what titles and honorsyou wished in payment--"

"Your Majesty!"

"Forgive me, I know your sword is not for sale. I mean no suchintimation. I mean only that it has a value. I mean you are a man, andthe game to you is the large one of statecraft. It is really you whorule this Kingdom. Ah, yes, you remonstrate, but I tell you it is true, and the damnable shame is that it is not a Kingdom worthy of yourgenius! You, Von Ritz, are the engine, the motive force--but I--in God'sholy name, what am I?"

He raised his hands questioningly, appealingly. 

"You, " replied the older soldier calmly, "are the King. "

"Yes, " Karyl caught up the words almost before they had fallen from thelips of the other. "Yes, I am the King. I am the miserable, gildedfigurehead out on the prow, which serves no end and no purpose. I amthe ornamental symbol of a system which the world is discarding! I am amedieval lay figure upon which to hang these tinsel decorations, theseribbons!"

"Your Majesty is excited. "

"No, by God, I am only heartbroken--and I am through!" The King's handsdropped at his sides. The passion died out of his voice and eyes, leaving them those of a man who is very tired. For a moment there wassilence. It was broken by the American. 

"Pagratide, " he asked, "why did you send for me?"

The King stood rigid with the illuminating shaft from the door touchinginto high-lights the polish of his boots and the burnish of hisaccouterments. Finally he turned and in a voice now deadly quietcountered with another question. 

"Benton, why did you save me?"

The American answered with quiet candor. 

"I went into it, " he said, "because I feared the danger might threatenCara. Once in, only a murderer could have turned back. "

"So I thought. " Karyl nodded his head, then he turned and pacedrestively up and down the path between the fountain and the balcony. Atlast he halted fronting the American. 

"I wish to God, Benton, you had let that traitor Lapas and hisconstituents touch their damned button. I wish to God you had let themlift me, amid the stones of _do Freres_, into eternity! But that wish isuncharitable to Von Ritz and the others who must have gone with me. " TheKing broke off with a short laugh. "After all, " he added, "of course, asyou say, you couldn't do it. "

Benton shook his head. "No, " he said, "I couldn't do it. "

Again Karyl paced back and forth, and again he stopped, facing theAmerican. 

"Benton, it is hard for two men to talk in this fashion. Perhaps no twoother men ever did. I find myself a jailer to the woman I love--Oh, yes, I am also imprisoned by Royalty but that does not alter matters. " Thevoice shook. The gauntleted hands were tightly gripped, but the speakerwent steadily on. "And you love her!"

For an instant Benton looked at the other, hesitant. Then realizing theunquestionable sincerity with which the King spoke, he answered withequal frankness. 

"Pagratide--over there--I thought I could enter Paradise. I did lookinto Paradise. Then I had to set my face back again to the desert--andin the desert one has only memory and hunger and thirst. "

"Yours is hunger and thirst--yes!" exclaimed the King of Galavia. "Butmine is the hunger and thirst of Tantalus. "

There was a low pained exclamation from the balcony and both men wheeledin recognition of the voice and the shadow that divided the band oflight in the doorway. 

The Queen stood on the low sill and though her head and figure were onlysketched in shade against the tempered luminance at her back herexclamation told them that she had heard. She stood in the unbrokensweep of her Court gown. Her slim hands gripped the ermine which fellfrom her shoulders to the floor and slowly crushed it between clenchedfingers. About her head the light touched her hair into a soft nimbus. 

Karyl stepped impetuously forward and held out his hand to lead her intothe garden. Benton, who had involuntarily started toward the balcony atthe first sight of her, caught his lip in his teeth and halted where hestood. 

The girl remained for a moment, astonished at the sight of the two men, incredulous of what she had heard. 

She had slipped away for a moment of respite from the fatiguingrequirements of the ball-room. She had come here because she had feltsure that here she could be alone. She had come, driven by the promptingof her heart, to look out to the Mediterranean and wonder where, betweenits gates at Gibraltar and Suez, Benton might at that moment be. Andfrom the balcony she had seen him in the garden and had heard a part ofthis talk before the spell of her astounded muteness broke intoexclamation. 

"You heard what we were saying. " Karyl spoke gently, deferentially. "Andit seemed to you incredible that we should be confidential on such asubject. It would be so, except that we are both seeking the sameend--your service--" he paused, then added miserably--"and yourhappiness. "

She listened in wonderment as she held out her hand to Benton andwatched trance-like his lowered head as he bent his lips to her fingers. 

"Cara!" Karyl had stepped back and was leaning over, his elbows restingon the stone back of one of the low benches. His fingers tightly graspedthe carved ornaments at its top. His words were carefully chosen andmeasuredly spoken. He knew that if he permitted one expression to escapehim unguardedly, with it would slip away the command by which he wascurbing mutinous emotions. 

"Cara, I happened to be born a Prince, who should one day develop into aKing. It chanced that Nature had a sense of humor--so Nature paid me adroll compliment. She gave me a futile ambition to be a man--me, whomshe had decided was to be only a King!"

The group stood silent and attentive in a strained tableau, except forVon Ritz, who paced back and forth just beyond the fountain, as thoughrespectfully repudiating the whole unseemly episode. 

"Then I fell in love with you, " went on the King of Galavia. "Youmarried me--because State reasons demanded it. I could not win yourlove--he did!" He turned toward Benton, and his voice, though it heldits slow control, was bitter. 

"Benton, do you fancy this puny game amuses me? Do I not know that youcould buy a principality like this for a souvenir of Europe if ithappened to please you? The one time I have been allowed to feel a manwas in your country, where we met as equal rivals.... No, not equal eventhen, because you were the winner, I the loser. "

"Karyl, " the Queen spoke in a low voice, "I can give you loyalty, admiration, respect and my life to use as you see fit to use it. I giveas freely as I can. My love I do not refuse--it is just ... Just that itis not mine to give. " She spoke with unutterable weariness. "I seem tobring only sorrow to those who love me. "

"You can give me all but love, " Karyl repeated very softly, leaningforward toward her, "and love is all there is! Without it I take allelse you give me as a thief takes, without right. If being a King meansbeing your jailer, then I am done with being a King!"

"Your Majesty, " cut in Von Ritz sharply, "it is time to terminate thistalk. It has no end. It is aimless argument which comes only back to thestarting point. "

The King wheeled and met the eyes of his adviser. The studiedself-control he had maintained since Cara's arrival slipped from him andhis voice broke out explosively. 

"It has an end!" he cried. "I will show you the end. If I cannot buildempire I can do something else, I can throw this damnable little Kingdomdown into the chaos it deserves!... I can abdicate to my cousin, LouisDelgado, who wants the throne I don't want!... I can stamp on thistinseled trumpery.... I can break jail!" He turned with an impassionedout-sweeping of his hands. Coming swiftly from behind the bench, hehalted tensely before Benton and leaned defiantly forward. "Then I canfree her--and by God I shall fight you for her on equal terms, inch byinch, not holding her in duress, but fighting for her free consent. Shehas been trapped by Fate into marrying me and at heart she rebels. Ishall set her free and then by God I will win her back!"

Von Ritz had stood by as the King rushed on in climax after climax ofheated words. Now he took one swift stride forward. From his quiet facehad fallen every trace of impassiveness. When he spoke his voicetrembled with the irresistible eloquence of power and fire. 

"My God, boy!" He seized Karyl by his shoulders and wheeled him so thatthey stood face to face. There was in his manner nothing of deference, nothing of the subordinate. Now he stood transformed, the man of action;the dominant, compelling force before whom littler men must wither. Thiswas no longer Von Ritz the emotionless. It was Von Ritz the King-maker, burning with vitalizing passion. 

"My God, boy, are you mad? Do you think other men have never loved andsacrificed themselves for duty--kept unuttered, locked in their hearts, things they were hungry to say?... Do you think that your hard task ofKingship is yours to play with--to desert?... Why, boy, I've taught youyour manual of arms, I've drilled you, trained you, watched you growfrom childhood. My heart has beaten with joy because you were free ofevery degenerate trace that has marked and scarred Europe's cancerousRoyalty! I've seen you come clean-hearted, straight-minded intoman-hood; prepared you to show the world what a Kingdom can be with aclean King--a strong King! I've fitted you to bear a burden which only aman could bear--to remind the world that 'King' means the Man WhoCan--and I thought you could do it!" He paused only to draw a longbreath, then hastened on again. "Yes, your task is thankless. YourPrincipality is small, but it is a keystone in Europe's arch. It is suchPrincelings as you who must send clean blood down to the thrones ofto-morrow.... Is that not enough?... Have I built a King, day by day, year by year, idea by idea, only to see him wither and crumple under thefirst blast? Go on with your task, in God's name! Probably they willmurder you ... Assassination may at the end be your reward, but only thecoward fears the outcome! For God's sake, Karyl, don't desert me underfire!"

He paused with a gesture eloquent of appeal. When next he spoke hisvoice was slow, deliberate. 

"And the other picture! The café tables of Paris are crowded withRoyalty that has been; with the miserable children of conquered andabdicated Kings!"

The King dropped exhaustedly to the bench, his fore-arms on his knees, his gloved fingers hanging limp. After a moment he rose again and wentto Cara. 

"I want to fight for you, " he said simply. "I want to free youfirst--then fight for you. "

"Karyl, " she answered gently, "if you do _this_, you will enslave mysoul, and my imprisonment will be only harder. You will make me awrecker of governments--a traitor to my duty. "

The King turned and looked out to sea. 

"I must think, " he said in a tired voice. "Perhaps it is only a matterof time. Delgado is free. Perhaps I shall not have to present him withmy throne. Conceivably he may come and take it. "

Von Ritz approached again and took Karyl's hand. To him a King was, atlast analysis, only the best product of the King-maker's craft. He was aKing-maker--before him stood a tired boy whom he loved. 

"You will fight, " he said, "and you will fight with hell's fury. Thefirst step will be to recapture this Pretender. With him in hand--"

"Which is in itself impossible, " retorted Karyl. 

At the window appeared the young Captain who had been left at the hotel. His hand was at his forehead in salute. Von Ritz went to meet him and ina moment returned for Benton. Together the two men went out. Fiveminutes later they had come again into the garden. With them came ManuelBlanco. 

The bull fighter paused to bow low to the Queen, then to the King. Atlast he spoke with some diffidence. 

"I have taken the very great liberty, " he said, "of making the DukeLouis Delgado an enforced guest on the yacht--where he awaits YourMajesty's pleasure. "

CHAPTER XIX

THE JACKAL TAKES THE TRAIL

"When the Duke avowed himself to be kidnaped, he committed an error sograve that it can hardly be--overestimated. " The speaker used the lastword as an afterthought. His first inclination was to say, forgiven. 

Monsieur Jusseret sat upright in the brougham, scorning the supportingcushions at his back. His small, shrewd eyes frowned his deepdisapproval over the roofs of Algiers outspread below him. He scowled onthe gaudy and tatterdemalion color of the native city. He scowled on thesmart brilliancy of the French quarter basking along the _Place duGovernment_ and the _Boulevard de la Republique_. 

The Countess Astaride leaned back and smiled from the depths of thecushions. 

"It is usually a mistake to be made a prisoner, " she smiled. 

"But such a foolish mistake, " quarreled Jusseret. "To permit oneself tobe lured into so palpable a trap. It is most absurd. "

"Now that it is done, " inquired the woman, "is it not almost as absurdto waste time deploring the spilled milk? We must find a way to set himfree. "

"I have done all that could be done. I have stationed men whom I cantrust throughout Puntal and Galavia. They are men Karyl likewise thinkshe can trust. The distinction is that I know--where he merely thinks. "

"And these men--what have they done?" The Countess laid one gloved handeagerly on the Frenchman's coat-sleeve. 

"These men have gradually and quietly reorganized the army, thebureaucracy, the very palace Guard. We have undermined the government'spower, until when the word is passed to strike the blow, a honey-combedsystem will crumble under its own weight. When Karyl calls on histroops, not one man will respond. Well--" Jusseret smileddryly--"perhaps I overstate the case. Possibly one man will. I think wewill hardly convert Von Ritz. "

"Ah, that is good news, Monsieur. " The Countess breathed the words witha tremor of enthusiasm. 

"It is, however, all useless, Madame--since His Grace is unavailable. Incaptivity he is absolutely valueless. "

"In captivity he has a stronger claim upon our loyalty than in power!"

The dark-room diplomat regarded her with a disappointed smile. 

"For a clever woman, _Comptesse_, who has heretofore played the game sobrilliantly, you have grown singularly unobservant. I am not a crusader, liberating captive Christian knights. I am France's servant, playing asomewhat guileful game which is as ancient as Ulysses, and subject tocertain definite rules. "

"Yes, but--"

"But, my dear lady, this revolution I have planted--nourished andcultivated to ripeness--I cannot harvest it. Outside Europe must notappear interested in this matter. If the Galavian people led by a memberof the Galavian Royal House revolts! _Bien!_ More than_bien_--excellent!" Jusseret spread his palms. "But unless there is aleader, there can be no revolution. No, no, Louis should have kept outof custody. "

The Countess leaned forward with sudden eagerness. 

"And if I free him? If I devise a way?"

The Frenchman turned quickly from contemplation of the landscape to herface. 

"Ah!" he exclaimed. "Once more you are yourself; the cleverest woman inEurope, as, always, you are the most charming!"

"Do you know where Monsieur Martin may be found?"

Jusseret looked at her in surprise. 

"I supposed he was here, consulting with you. I sent him to you with aletter--recommending him as a useful instrument. "

"He was in Algiers, but I sent him away. " The Countess laughed. "Hewanted money, always money, until I wearied of furnishing his purse. "

"Even if he were available he could hardly go to Puntal, Madame, "demurred Jusseret. "Von Ritz knows him. "

"True. " The Countess sat for a time in deep thought. 

"There is one man in Puntal, " said Jusseret with sudden thought, "whomight possibly be of assistance to you. He is not legally a citizen ofGalavia. He even has a certain official connection with anothergovernment. He is a man I cannot myself approach. " Jusseret had beentalking in a low tone, too low to endanger being overheard by the_cocher_, but now with excess of caution he leaned forward and whispereda name. The name was José Reebeler. 

 * * * * *

It was June. Three months had passed since the Grand Duke had steamedinto Puntal Harbor as Blanco's prisoner of war. The Duke had since thatday been a guest of the King. His goings and comings were, however, guarded with strict solicitude. One day he went after his custom for astroll in the Palace garden. He was accompanied by two officers of thePalace Guard especially selected by Von Ritz for known fidelity. At thegarden gates stood picked sentinels. That evening a fisherman's boatstole out of the harbor. Neither Louis Delgado nor his guard returned. The sentinels failed to respond at roll-call. 

As the King and the Colonel listened to the report of the escape, Karyl's face paled a little and the features of Von Ritz hardened. Orders were given for an instant dispatch in cipher, demanding from asecret agent in Algiers all information obtainable as to the movementsof the Countess Astaride. The reply brought the statement that theCountess had, several days before, sailed for Alexandria and Cairo. 

Von Ritz became preternaturally active, masking every movement under hisaccustomed seeming of imperturbable calm. At last he brought his reportto the King. "It signifies one thing which I had not suspected. Amongthe men whom I thought I could most implicitly trust, there is treason. How deep that cancer goes is a matter as to which we can only makeguesses. "

Karyl took a few turns across the floor. 

"And by that you mean that we are over a volcano which may break intoeruption at any moment?"

Von Ritz nodded. 

"And the Queen--" began Karyl. 

"I have been thinking of Her Majesty, " said the Colonel. "She shouldleave Puntal, but she will not go, if it occurs to her that she is beingsent away to escape danger. Her Majesty's courage might almost be calledstubborn. "

The King made no immediate response. He was standing at a window, looking out at the serenity of sea and sky. His forehead was drawn inthought. He knew that Von Ritz was right. Had Cara hated him, instead ofmerely finding herself unable to love him, he knew that the first threatof danger would arouse the ally in her, and that the suggestion offlight would throw her into the attitude of determined resistance. Shewas like the captain who goes down with his ship, not because he lovesthe ship, but because his place is on the bridge. 

Von Ritz went on quietly. 

"God grant that Your Majesty may be in no actual danger. But we mustface the situation open-eyed. Your place is here. If by mischance youshould fall, there is no reason why--" he hesitated, then added--"whythe dynasty should end with you. In Galavia there is no Salic law. HerMajesty could reign. Undoubtedly the Queen should be in some saferplace. "

The King dropped into a chair and sat for some minutes with his eyesthoughtfully on the floor. Abstractedly he puffed a cigarette. At lasthe raised his face. It was pale, but stamped with determination. 

"There is only one thing to do, Von Ritz. There is one availablerefuge. "

The soldier read the reluctant eyes of the other, and spared him thenecessary explanation with a question. "Mr. Benton's yacht?" heinquired. 

Karyl nodded. "The yacht. "

"I, too, had thought of that, but how can you arrange it, Your Majesty?"

"We must persuade her that she requires a change of scene and that thisis the one way she can have it without conspicuousness. It can be givenout that she has gone to Maritzburg, and I shall tell her"--Karyl smiledwith a cynical humor--"that I am over-weary with this task of Kingship, and that I shall join her within a few days for a brief truancy from thecares of state. "

"It may be the safest thing, " reflected the officer. "It at least freesour minds of a burdensome anxiety. "

"I shall persuade her, " declared Karyl. "She can take severalladies-in-waiting and you can accompany her to the yacht and explain toBenton. Direct him to cruise within wireless call and to avoid citieswhere the Queen might be in danger of recognition. She must remain untilwe gain some hint as to when and where the crater is apt to break intoeruption. "

Jusseret was busy. His agencies were at work over the peninsula. It wasthe sort of conspiracy in which the Frenchman took the keenestdelight--purely a military revolution. 

The peasant on the mountains, the agriculturist in his buttressed andterraced farm, the grape-grower in his vineyard and the artisan andlaborer in Puntal did not know that there was dissatisfaction with thegovernment. 

But in the small army and the smaller bureaucracy there was plotting andundermining. Subtle and devious temptations were employed. Captains sawbefore them the shoulder straps of the major, lieutenants the insigniaof the captain, privates the chevrons of the sergeant. 

Meanwhile, from a town in southerly Europe, near the Galavian frontier, Monsieur Jusseret in person was alertly watching. 

Martin, the "English Jackal, " much depleted in fortune, drifting beforevagabond winds and hailing last from Malta, learned of the Frenchman'sseemingly empty programme. Since his dismissal by the Countess, therehad been no employer for his unscrupulous talents. Now he needed funds. Where Jusseret operated there might be work in his particular line. Heknew that when this man seemed most idle he was often most busy. Martinhad come to a near-by point by chance. He went on to Jusseret's town, and then to his hotel, with the same surety and motive that directs thevulture to its carrion. The Jackal was ushered into the Frenchman'sroom in the tattered and somewhat disheveled condition to which hisrecent weeks of vagabondage had subjected him. 

Jusseret looked his former ally over with scarcely concealed contempt. Martin sustained the stare and returned it with one coolly audacious. 

"I daresay, " he began, with something of insolence in his drawl, "it'shardly necessary to explain why I'm here. I'm looking for something todo, and in my condition"--he glanced deprecatingly down at his fadedtweeds--"one can't be over nice in selecting one's business associates. "

Jusseret was secretly pleased. He divined that before the end came theremight be use for Martin, though no immediate need of him suggesteditself. There were so few men obtainable who would, without question, undertake and execute intrigue or homicide equally well. It might beexpedient to hold this one in reserve. 

"We will not quarrel, Monsieur Martin, " he said almost with a purr. "Itis not even necessary to return the compliment. It is so wellunderstood, why one employs your capable services. "

The Englishman flushed. To defend his reputation would be a waste oftime. 

"_Madame la Comptesse_ d'Astaride, " explained Jusseret, "has gone toCairo. She may require your wits as well as her own before the game isplayed out. Join her there and take your instructions from her. " As hespoke the map-reviser began counting bills from his well-supplied purse. Martin looked at them avidly, then objected with a surly frown. 

"She sent me away once, and I don't particularly care for the Cairoidea. "

"This time she will not send you away. " Jusseret glanced up with a blandsmile. "And it seems I remember a season, not so many years gone, whenyou were a rather prominent personage upon the terrace of Shephard's. You were quite an engaging figure of a man, Monsieur Martin, in flannelsand Panama hat, quite a smart figure!"

The Englishman scowled. "You delight, Monsieur, in touching the rawspots--However, I daresay matters will go rippingly. " He took the billsand counted them into his own purse. "A chap can't afford to be toosentimental or thin-skinned. " He was thinking of a couple of clubs inCairo from which he had been asked to resign. Then he laughed callouslyas he added aloud: "You see there's a regiment stationed there, justnow, which I'd rather not meet. I used to belong to its mess--once upona time. "

Jusseret looked up at the renegade, then with a cynical laugh he rose. 

"These little matters _are_ inconvenient, " he admitted, "butembarrassments beset one everywhere. If one turns aside to avoid hisold regiment, who knows but he may meet his tailor insistent uponpayment--or the lady who was once his wife?"

He lighted a cigarette, then with the refined cruelty that enjoyedtorturing a victim who could not afford to resent his brutality, headded:

"But these army regulations are extremely annoying, I daresay--theserules which proclaim it infamous to recognize one who--who has, undercertain circumstances, ceased to be a brother-officer. "

The Englishman was leaning across the table, his cheek-bones red and hiseyes dangerous. 

"By God, Jusseret, don't go too far!" he cautioned. 

The Frenchman raised his hands in an apologetic gesture, but his eyesstill held a trace of the malevolent smile. 

"A thousand pardons, my dear Martin, " he begged. "I meant only to besympathetic. "

CHAPTER XX

THE DEATH Of ROMANCE IS DEPLORED

"And yet, " declared young Harcourt, "if there still survives, anywherein the world, a vestige of Romance, this should be her refuge; her laststand against the encroachments of the commonplace. "

He spoke animatedly, with the double eagerness of a boy and an artist, sweeping one hand outward in an argumentative gesture. It was a gesturewhich seemed to submit in evidence all the palpitating colors of Caprisunning herself among her rocks: all the sparkle and glitter of the Bayof Naples spreading away to the nebulous line where Ischia bulkedherself in mist against the horizon: all the majesty of the cone wherethe fires of Vesuvius lay sleeping. 

Across the table Sir Manuel Blanco shrugged his broad shoulders. 

Benton lighted a cigarette, and a smile, scarcely indicative of frankamusement, flickered in his eyes. 

"Do you hold that Romance is on the run?" he queried. 

"Where do you find it nowadays?" demanded the boy in flannels. "There!"With the violence of disgust he slammed a Baedeker of Southern Italydown upon the table. "That is the way we see the world in these days! Wego back with souvenir postcards instead of experiences, and when we gethome we have just been to a lot of tramped-over places. I'll wager thata handful of this copper junk they call money over here, would buy in abull market all the real adventure any of us will ever know. "

The three had been lunching out-doors in a Capri hotel with flagstonesfor a floor and overhanging vine-trellises for a roof. Chance had thrownthis young stranger across their path, and luncheon had cemented anacquaintanceship. 

"Who can say?" suggested Benton. "Why hunt Trouble under the alias ofRomance? Vesuvius, across there, is as vague and noiseless to-day as awraith, but to-morrow his demon may run amuck over all this end ofItaly! And then--" His laugh finished the speculation. 

"And yet, " went on the boy, after a moment's pause, "I was just thinkingof a chap I met in Algiers a while back and later on the boat to Malta. I ran across him in one of those vile little twisting alleys in theKasbah quarter where dirty natives sit cross-legged on shabby rugs andeye the 'Infidel dogs' just as spiders watch flies from loathsomewebs--ugh, you know the sort of place!" He paused with a slight shudderof reminiscent disgust. "I fancy he has had adventures. We had a glassof wine later down at one of the sidewalk cafés in the _Boulevard de laRepublique_. He showed me lots of things that a regular guide would haveomitted. The fellow was on his uppers, yet he had been something else, and still knew genteel people. Up on the driveway by the villas, wherefashion parades, he excused himself to speak with a magnificentlydressed woman in a brougham, and she chatted with him in a manner almostconfidential. He told me later she might some day occupy a throne; Ithink her name was the Countess Astaride. "

Benton looked up quickly and his eyes met those of the Spaniard with aswiftly flashed message which excluded Harcourt. 

"This fellow and I were on the same boat coming over to Valetta, "continued the young tourist. "One night in the smoke-room, the stewardwas filling the glasses pretty frequently. At last he becameconfidential. "

"Yes?" prompted Benton. 

"Well, he told me he had once held a commission in the British Army andhad seen service in diplomacy as military attaché. Then he gotcashiered. He didn't go into particulars, and of course I didn'tcross-question. He recited some weird experiences. He had been a cattleman in Australia and a horse-trader in Syria and had served the Sultanin Turkey. There were lots of things that would have made a good book. "The boy's voice took on a note of young ardor. "But the great story wasthe one he told last. He had stood to win a title of nobility in thistwo-by-four Kingdom of Galavia, but it had slipped away from him just onthe verge of attainment. "

Harcourt slowly drained his thin Capri wine and set down the goblet. 

"I must watch the time, " he remembered at last, drawing out his watch. "I do the Blue Grotto this afternoon.... Well, to continue: This chapgave the name Browne (he insisted that it be Browne with an e), thoughwhile he was drunk he called himself Martin. 

"He told a long and complicated story of plans in which a King was tolose his life and throne. He said that the secret cabinets of several ofthe major European governments were interested, and that just ascarefully prepared plans were about to be consummated somethinghappened--something mysterious which none of the cleverest agents of thegovernments had been able to solve. In some unfathomable way someone haddiscovered everything and stepped between and disarranged. No upheavalfollowed and of course Browne never won his title. They have never yetlearned who saved that throne. Someone is working magic and gettingaway with it under the eyes of Europe's cleverest detectives. "

The boy stopped and looked about to see if his recital had aroused theproper wonderment. Both men gave expression of deep interest. Flatteredby the impression he had made, Harcourt went on. "Now you fellows areold travelers--men of the world--I am a kid compared to you. Yet haseither of you stumbled on such a story as that? So you see wonderfulthings do sometimes happen under the surface of affairs with never aripple at the top of the water. Browne--or Martin--said that the Dukewould reign yet--oh, yes, he said the Powers would see to that!"

"_Señor_, what became of your friend?" inquired Blanco. 

"Oh!" the boy hesitated for a moment, then broke into a laugh. "I'mafraid that's an anti-climax. They found that he was simply a nervystowaway. He had not booked his passage and so--"

"They put him off?"

"Yes, at Malta. Meantime he was stripped to the waist and armed with ashovel in the stoke-hold. "

Benton laughed. 

"There was another phase to it, though--" began the boy afresh. 

At that moment the whistle of the small excursion steamer below brokeout in a shrill scream. Young Harcourt hurriedly pushed back his chairand grabbed for his Panama hat. "Cæsar!" he cried, "there's the whistle. I shall miss my boat for the Grotto. " And he hastened off with a shoutof summons to a crazy victoria that was clattering by empty. 

During a long silence Blanco studied the cone of Vesuvius. 

"Blanco!" Benton leaned across the table with an anxious frown andstretched out a hand which over-turned the wine glasses. "There was onething he said that stuck in my memory. He said the Powers would see thatin the end Louis had his throne. "

The Spaniard shook his head dubiously. 

"The Powers have lost their instrument! You forget, _Señor_, that thisis underground diplomacy. It must appear to work itself out and the newKing must be logical. With Louis a prisoner their meddling hands arebound. "

Benton rose and pushed back his chair. His companion joined him andtogether they passed out through the stone-flagged court and into theroad. For fifteen minutes they walked morosely and in silence throughthe steep streets where the shops are tourist-traps, alluringly baitedwith corals and trinkets. Finally they came out on the beach where manyfishing boats were dragged up on the sand, and nets stretched, drying inthe sun. 

Then Benton spoke. 

"In God's name, Manuel, what do I care who occupies the throne ofGalavia? No other man could so block my path as Karyl. " Then as one inthe confessional he declared shamefacedly: "I have never said it to anyman because it is too much like murder, but--sometimes I wish I hadreached Cadiz one day later than I did. " He drew his handkerchief andwiped the moisture from his forehead. 

The Spaniard skillfully kindled a cigarette in the spurt of a match, which the gusty sea-breeze made short-lived. 

"And now, " he calmly suggested, "it is still possible to let Europe playout her game alone. After all, _Señor_, we are as the young _touristo_indicated--only amateurs. "

"And yet, Manuel, " the American smiled half-quizzically, "yet we seemforeordained to play bodyguard to Karyl. Fate throws him on our hands. "

"We might decline in future to accept the charge. "

Benton halted so close to the water's edge that a bit of sea-weed waswashed up close to his feet. "Any threat to the throne of Galavia now isalso a threat to Her. We must learn what these Powers purpose doing. "He threw back his shoulders and his step quickened with the resolutionof fresh action. 

"Besides, " he supplemented, "Delgado is a dreaming degenerate! We mustget back into the game. "

The Spaniard laughed. "As you say, _Señor_. After all, this merecruising grows monotonous. Playing the game is better. "

When, at twilight that evening, the launch came chugging back to theyacht with the mail from Naples, Benton caught sight of a blue envelopein which he recognized the form of the Italian telegraph. He tore itopen and his brows contracted in incredulous wonderment as he read themessage. 

"Miss Carstow and two other ladies arrive Parker's Hotel Naples Tuesdayafternoon. Rely on your meeting her with yacht. She will explain. Beready to sail immediately on arrival. Address reply Pagratide, careGrand Palace Hotel. "

Benton smiled almost happily as he scrawled, in reply, "_Isis_ and selfat Miss Carstow's service. Waiting under steam. Benton. "

CHAPTER XXI

NAPLES ASSUMES NEW BEAUTY

The following day was Tuesday. It found Benton nearer cheerfulness thanhe had been since the _Isis_ had in February pointed her bow eastwardfor the run across the Atlantic, under sealed orders. 

To Blanco the yachtsman announced that he would lunch at Parker's, andevasively asked the Spaniard if he would mind being left alone for theday. 

As the coachman, hailed at random from the mob of brigands by theCustom-house entrance, cracked his whip over the bony stallion in thefiacre shafts, Benton began to notice that Naples was altogethercharming. He found no refusals for the tatterdemalion vagabonds whopattered alongside to thrust their violets over the carriage door. 

At last, as he paced one of the main parlors of the hotel, his eyesriveted on the street entrance, he heard a laugh behind him; a laughtempered with a vibrant mellowness which was of a sort with no otherlaugh, and which set him vibrating in turn, as promptly as a tuning-forkanswers to its note. 

The sound brought him round in such electric haste as almost resulted incollision with the girl behind him. 

He was prepared, of course, to find in her incognita no suggestion ofRoyalty, yet now when he met her standing alone, and could take the handshe held out to him with her heart-breaking, heart-recompensating smile, he felt a distinct sense of astonishment. 

"I'm having a holiday, " she declared. "It's to be the Queen's day offand you are being allowed to play host with the _Isis_. Do you approve?"

With abandonment to the delight of mere propinquity, he laid away sorrowagainst the returning time of her absence, as one lays away an umbrellauntil the next shower. 

"Approve?" he mocked. "It's like asking the drowning man if he approvesof being picked up. "

For a moment her eyes clouded and a droop threatened her lips. 

"But, " she said in a softer tone, "what if you've got to be thrown backinto the sea again?" Then she added, "And, you see, I have. Probably I'mvery foolish to come. The prison will only be blacker, but I couldn'tstand it. I wanted--" She looked at him with the frankness which hasnothing to conceal--"I wanted to forget it all for a little time. "

With a frigid salutation, Colonel Von Ritz arrived. As he addressed theAmerican, despite his flawless courtesy, his voice still carried theundercurrent of antagonism which no word of his had ever failed toconvey to Benton, since their first meeting in America. 

"If Miss Carstow"--he uttered the assumed name with distaste--"willexcuse you, " he suggested, "I should like a word. "

Von Ritz led the way out of doors and between the tables and trellisesof the garden until he came upon a spot which seemed to promise thegreatest possible degree of privacy. There he stopped and stood lookingstraight ahead of him. 

"All that I now tell you, Mr. Benton"--his voice was even and polite toa nicety, yet distinctly icy--"is of course a message from the King. "

"Meaning, " Benton smiled with polite indifference, "that your personalcommunications with me would be few?"

"Meaning, " corrected Von Ritz gravely, "that in His Majesty's affairs, Ispeak only on His Majesty's authority. "

"Colonel, I am at your service. "

"In the first place, " began the Galavian at last, "His Majesty wished meto explain why he has presumed on your further assistance. You are theonly man outside Galavia who understands--and whom the King mayimplicitly trust, trust even with the safety of Her Majesty, theQueen. "

"You will convey to the King my appreciation of his confidence. "Somehow, between the American and this emissary of Karyl, there couldnever be any attitude other than that of the utmost formality. 

Von Ritz sketched the situation. 

"It is important that the world should not know of Her Majesty'sdeparture. It would be an admission to the conspirators that the Kingfeels his weakness, and would invite attack. For this reason she couldnot leave in the ordinary way. Fortunately, it is not difficult for HerMajesty to escape recognition. She is perhaps the one Queen in Europewhose published portraits would not make it impossible for her to gounknown through the cities of the Continent. Her prejudice againstphotographs has given her that immunity. She might walk through Parisunrecognized. "

Benton looked narrowly at Von Ritz. "How much does she know of thetruth?"

"Absolutely nothing. She has been persuaded to regard the truancy as abreak in the routine of Court life, which--" Von Ritz hesitated, thenwent on doggedly--"which she finds distasteful. She does not even knowthat the Duke is free. That is as closely guarded a secret as the factthat he was being held under duress. "

The soldier paused, then went on. "The King has told Her Majesty that hehopes to join her on your yacht within a few days. You will pleaseencourage that fiction. In point of fact, " with a gesture of despair, "if His Majesty were to leave now he would never return, and if heremains now he may never again leave. I must myself hasten back. "

The two men went at some length over the details of the situation. Itwas agreed that the simple name of a town received by wireless should bea signal upon which the _Isis_ would proceed with all possible haste tothe place designated. If the necessity should arise for Karyl's leavingGalavia, he might in this way take refuge on the yacht. This, explainedVon Ritz, was only the final precaution of preparing for every exigency. His Majesty was determined not to leave his city alive, until he couldleave it in the full security of his established government. 

The King also made another request. If Blanco could be spared and wouldconsent to come to Puntal, his proven ability, together with hisunderstanding of the language and the fact that he was not generallyknown in Puntal, would give him untold value. All the government'ssecret agents were either under suspicion of treason or too well knownto the conspirators to be of great avail. If Blanco agreed to come, hemight return with Von Ritz, or follow him at once and await instructionsat his hotel, using care to avoid the semblance of open communicationwith the Palace. 

On his return to the parlors, Cara presented Benton to herladies-in-waiting, the Countess Fernandez and the Countess Jaurez, whowere to travel as Miss Carstow's aunts. 

 * * * * *

When there is a three-quarter moon and an atmosphere as subtle asperfume; when the walls of the city lose their ragged lines and meltinto soft shadow shapes, relieved here and there by lights which thewaters mirror, night and the Bay of Naples are not bad. Then the smallboats which bob alongside are filled with picturesque beggars raisinghuge bunches of violets on bamboo poles to the deck rails, and themingling of singing voices with guitars sets it all to music. 

On the forward deck Benton stood leaning on the rail and looking towardthe city. At his side was Cara Carstow. She was silent, but she shookher head, and the man's solicitous scrutiny caught the deepeningthought-furrow between her eyes, and the twitching of her fingers. 

He bent forward and spoke softly. "Cara, what is it?" She looked up andsmiled. "I was remembering that I stood just here, once before, " shesaid. 

"Do you think, " he asked quietly, "that there has been a moment sincethen that I have not remembered it? That night you belonged to me and Ito you. "

"I guess, " she said rather wearily, "we don't any of us belong toourselves or to those we love most. We just belong to Fate. "

"Cara!" He gripped the rail tightly and his words fell evenly. "Overthere in America, you admitted to me that you loved me. That was whenyou were not yet Queen of Galavia. " He brought himself up with a suddenhalt. She looked up as frankly as a child. 

"I didn't admit it, " she said. "We only admit things against our will, don't we? I told you gladly. "

"And now--!" He held his breath as he looked into her eyes. 

"Now I am the Queen of a hideous little Kingdom, " she shuddered. "Itwouldn't do for me to say it now, would it?"

"Oh!" The man leaned again heavily on the rail. The monosyllable waseloquent. Impulsively she bent toward him, then caught herself. For amoment she looked out at the water undulating under the moon likemother-of-pearl on a waving fan. "But it was all right to say I lovedyou then, " she went on reflectively, after a pause. "I had a perfectright then to tell you that I loved you better than all the small totalof the world beside, and--" her voice faltered for a moment--"and, " witha musical laugh, she illogically added, "I have nothing to take back ofwhat I then said, though of course I can't ever say it again. "

CHAPTER XXII

THE SENTRY BOX ANSWERS THE KING'S QUERY

Several days later, Blanco arrived in Puntal shortly after the lazy noonhour. 

Out of disconnected fragments of fact and memory he had evolved atheory. It was a theory as yet immature and half-baked, but one uponwhich he resolved to act, trusting to the lucky outcome of subsequentevents for the filling in of many gaps, and the making good of manydeficiencies. 

Among the shreds of fragmentary information which Manuel had previouslystored away in his memory was the fact that one José Reebeler was acapitalist. This was not exclusive information. Every guide and casualacquaintance hastened to sing for the newcomer the saga of Reebeler'simportance. One was informed that this magnate owned the three touristhotels and their acres of vine-covered gardens; that he controlled thehalf-humorous pretense of a street-railway company and that even thehuge, dominating rock upon which perched the pavilions and casino of theStrangers' Club was his property. Still more significant, to Blanco'sreasoning, was the fact that Reebeler, though Puntal-born, was ofBritish parentage and that over his house, in the _Ruo do Consilhiero_, floated both British and American flags, while the double coat-of-armsabove his balcony proclaimed him the consular agent of both governments. Here, reasoned Blanco, was a man shielded behind the devices of twonations, neither of which was engaged in petty Mediterranean intrigue. He would be the last man in Puntal to challenge a suspicious glance fromthe Palace, yet as a man of moneyed enterprise his wish for concessionsmight well give a political coloring to his thoughts. Somewhere he hadheard that the Strangers' Club aspired to the establishment of agambling Mecca which should rival Monte Carlo in magnitude and that thepresent impediment was the frown of the government upon such a wholesalegambling enterprise. It was quite unlikely that the Delgado governmentwould discourage a syndicate which could turn a munificent revenue intoits taxing coffers. 

Through a shaded courtyard where a small fountain tinkled, Blancostrolled to the Consular office and rapped on the door. He was conductedby a native servant to an inner room. Here, while a great blue-bottlefly droned and thumped, Reebeler, a heavy Briton with mild eyes, sprawled his length in a wicker chair and poured brandy and soda. FirstBlanco represented himself as an adoptive American, touring the worldand interested in natural resources. When his host had exhausted thesubject of the wine-grower's battle against the ravages of "_oidiumTuckeri_" and "_phyloxera_, " Blanco picked up a stick of sealing-waxfrom the table and commenced toying with it in a manner of aimlessness. He struck match after match and melted pellet after pellet of wax, thenabsently he took from his pocket a gold seal-ring and made, with itsshield, several impressions on the wax. Reebeler's eyes were half-closedas he gazed vacantly at the pigeons cooing and strutting in hiscourtyard. 

"See, I have at last got a good impression. " The Spaniard idly tossedover the scrap of paper upon which he had stamped a half-dozen of LouisDelgado's crests from the die of the Comptessa Astaride's ring. 

The Consul took the fragment of paper with the manner of one forced bypoliteness to assume an interest in trivialities which bore him. 

"See how clearly the device of His Grace stands out in the lastimpression, " casually suggested Blanco, then with eyes narrowly bent onthe other he saw the astonished start as his vis-a-vis realized whatdevice had been imprinted on the paper. It was the sign for which he hadplayed. When Reebeler's eyes came up questioningly to his own, he, too, was looking off through the raised window where the limp curtain barelytrembled in the light breeze. 

"The ring is interesting, " suggested the Consul. 

"The arms seem to be those of a family of Galavia which is connectedwith Royalty. Did you pick it up in a curio shop? If so, some servantmust have stolen it. "

Blanco stood up. "We waste time fencing, _Señor_ Reebeler, " he said, "His Grace, Louis Delgado, was held captive by the King until severaldays ago. He then escaped. That escape has been kept secret by the King. Only men in the Duke's confidence know of it. I am in the service of HisGrace and I report to you. In these times we do not carry signed lettersof introduction--those of us at least who are not protected behind theinsignia of Consular office. "

There was a long silence. Reebeler, under the influence of brandy andperplexity, breathed heavily. Blanco poured from a squat bottle andwatched the soda bubble in the glass. 

Finally the Consul inquired with a show of indifference: "Why do youassume that I know anything of this matter?"

Blanco laughed. "I have already told you that I come from His Grace. Naturally His Grace knew to whom to commend me. I have frankly givenmyself into your hands by declaring my sentiments. On the other hand, you decline a similar confidence. You are discreet. " He waved his hand. "_Adios_. "

"Wait. " The Consul stopped him at the door. He paused, cleared histhroat and then abruptly suggested: "Suppose you return to-morrow atsix. "

The Spaniard bowed. "I only wish you to test me, _Señor_. "

That evening Blanco knew that he was being shadowed. The next day he hadthe same sense of being incessantly watched. This was a thing which hehad expected and for which he was prepared. Promptly at six o'clock hereturned to the _Rue do Consilhiero_. 

He knew that his greatest danger lay in the possibility of communicationby the conspirators with the Duke or the Countess, but he had beenassured that Marie Astaride was in Cairo and it could safely be assumedthat Delgado would return to Galavia only at the psychological moment. If either of these assumptions were false Louis would, of course, recognize the description of his kidnapper. The Countess would connectthe episode of the ring with the former checkmating of her plans. At allevents, he must chance those possibilities. 

This time the Consulate was discreetly shut in by drawn jealousies. Within, beside Reebeler himself, were a number of men, all of whomnarrowly scrutinized the newcomer. Those who were not in uniformcarried themselves with a cocky smartness that belied their civilianclothes. The man from Cadiz returned their gaze with the sameimperturbable steadiness and the same concealed wariness which he hademployed when, in the _Plaza de Toros_, he awaited the charge of thebull. 

For a time they allowed him to stand in silence under the embarrassingbatteries of their eyes, then an elderly officer assumed the position ofspokesman. 

"If you are a spy your experience will be brief, " he announced. 

Blanco smiled. 

"That is as it should be, _Señor_. Spies are not entitled to an oldage. "

"We are going to test you, " continued the officer. "We have need of menof courage. If, as you claim, the Duke sent you, he must have done sobecause he regarded you as available. If you prove trustworthy, allright. If not, it is your misfortune, because in the place where we meanto use you you will have no opportunity to betray us, and a veryexcellent opportunity of meeting death. We cannot now communicate withHis Grace for corroboration, so we shall let you prove yourself. Youseem to bear no message from the Duke. That has the smell of suspicion. "

"On the contrary, " retorted the Spaniard, "the Duke believed that a manwho was a stranger might prove of value. I was to take my instructionsfrom you. "

Blanco wondered vaguely what the future held for him. Evidently theiracceptance of his services was to bear a close resemblance toimprisonment. He could see in the programme small opportunity to servethe King. His instructions had been to win into their confidence and dowhat he could. 

 * * * * *

Two weeks later, in the small garden giving off from the King's privateapartments, and perched half-way up the buttressed side of the rock onwhich sat the Palace, Karyl impatiently awaited the coming of ColonelVon Ritz. Below he could hear a brass band in the Botanical Gardens andout in the bay a German war-ship, decorated for a dance, blazed like aset piece in a pyrotechnic display. 

There was peace, summer, perfume, in the moonlit air and Karyl smiledironically as he reflected that even the bodyguard so carefully selectedby Von Ritz might at any moment enter the place and raise the shout of"Long live King Louis!"

Leaning over the parapet, he could see one of his fantasticallyuniformed soldiery pacing back and forth before a sentry-box, his musketjauntily shouldered, and a bayonet glinting at his belt. Karyl stoodlooking, and his lips curled skeptically as he wondered whether the manwould repel or admit assassins. 

Somewhat wearily the King turned and leaned on the stone coping of theouter wall. He was at one end where a shadow cloaked him, but he lighteda cigarette and the match that flared up threw an orange-red light onhis face, showing eyes which were lusterless. For a few moments he heldthe match in his hollowed palms, coaxing its blaze in the breeze. Beforeit had burned out there came a sharp report and Karyl heard the spat offlattening lead on the masonry at his back. The echo rattled along therocky side of the hill. One of the sentry-boxes had answered his unaskedquestion of loyalty. 

He waited. There was no rush of feet. No medley of anxiously inquiringvoices. Others had heard the report, of course, yet no one hastened toinquire and investigate. The King, pacing farther back where hissilhouette was less clearly defined, laughed again, very bitterly. 

Finally Von Ritz came. "It seems that we can rely on no one, " he said. "The Palace Guard had been picked from the few in whom I still believed. I had hoped there was a trustworthy remnant. "

"One of them has just tried a shot at me with one of my own muskets. "The King spoke impersonally as though the matter bore only on thepsychic question of trusting men. "The spot is there on the wall. " Thenhe added with bitter whimsicality: "It seems to me, Colonel, that wehave either very poor marksmen in our service, or else we supply themwith very poor rifles. "

For a moment Von Ritz almost smiled. "I was passing the point as hetouched the trigger, Your Majesty, " he replied with calmness. "I willpersonally vouch for his future harmlessness. "

The lighted door, at the same moment, framed the figure of an aide. "Your Majesty, " he said with a bow, "Monsieur Jusseret prays a briefaudience. "

Karyl turned to Von Ritz, his brows arching interrogation. In answer theColonel wheeled and addressed the officer, who waited statuesquely: "HisMajesty will not receive Monsieur Jusseret. Any matters of interest toFrance will receive His Majesty's attention when they reach him throughFrance's properly accredited ambassador. "

Yet five minutes later, Jusseret, escorted by several officers in theGalavian uniform, entered the garden through the door of the King'sprivate suite. At the monstrous insolence of this forbidden invasion ofKaryl's privacy, Von Ritz stepped forward. His voice was even colderthan usual with the chill of mortal fury. 

"You have evidently misunderstood. The King declined to receive you--"he began. 

Karyl turned his head and looked curiously on. The keen, dissipated eyesof the sub-rosa diplomat twinkled humorously. For a moment the thin lipstwisted into a wry smile. 

"The King is hardly in a position that warrants declining to receiveme, " he announced with an ironically ceremonious bow to Karyl. He wasimperturbable and impeccable from his patent-leather pumps to the Legionof Honor ribbon in his lapel. 

"I offer the King an opportunity to abdicate his throne--and retain hisliberty. Not only do I offer him his liberty, but also such an income aswill make the cafés of Paris possible, and the society of othergentlemen who are also--well, let us say retired Royalties. I do this inthe capacity of a private friend of the Grand Duke Louis Delgado. " Hissmile was bland, suave, undisturbed. 

Von Ritz took a step forward. 

"Escort Monsieur Jusseret to the Palace gates!" he commanded, his eyesblazing on the Galavian officers. "The persons of even secretAmbassadors are sacred--otherwise--" His voice failed him. 

The officers cringed back under his glance, but stood supine andinactive. 

Karyl waited with a cold smile on his lips. His face was pale but therewas no touch of fear in the expression. For a brief psychological momentthere was absolute silence, then the Frenchman spoke again. "Gentlemen, you are my prisoners. " Turning to the Colonel, he added: "You have clungto the waning dynasty, Von Ritz, until it fell, but your sword may stillfind service in Galavia. I offer you the opportunity. We have oftencrossed wits. Now, for the first time, I win--and offer amnesty. "

For a moment Von Ritz stood white and trembling with rage, then with hisopen hand he struck the smiling face that seemed to float tauntinglybefore his eyes, and drawing his sword, stepped between the King and thesuddenly concentrated group of officers who moved frontward with asingle accord, hands on swords. They spread from a group into a line, and the line quickly closed in a circle around the King and the one manwho remained loyal. 

Karyl was himself unarmed. He raised a restraining hand to Von Ritz'sshoulder, but before he could speak his head sagged forward under theimpact of some sudden shock--some blow from behind--and things went darkabout him as he crumpled to his knees and fell. 

Von Ritz, struggling desperately with a broken blade in his hand wasslowly overwhelmed by seeming swarms of men. Like a tiger caught in anet, his ferocity gradually waned until, bleeding from scratch-woundsin a half-dozen places, he felt himself sinking into a haze. His uselesssword-hilt fell with a clatter to the tiles. As his arms were pinionedby several of his captors, he was dreamily aware that music stillfloated up from the Botanical Gardens and the German man-of-war. Nearerat hand, Von Ritz heard--or perhaps dreamed through his stupor that heheard--a voice exclaiming: "Long live King Louis!"

There had been no noise which could have penetrated beyond the King'ssuite. Less than ten minutes had elapsed since the sentinel had beenpacing below. Jusseret, passing unostentatiously out through the Palacegate, glanced at his watch and smiled. It had been excellently managed. 

Later, Karyl recovered consciousness to find things little changed. Hewas lying on a leather couch in his own rooms. The windows on the smallgarden still stood open and the moon, riding farther down the west, bathed the outer world in shimmer of silver, but at each door stood asentinel. 

Karyl remembered that during Louis Delgado's recent captivity he hadfared in precisely the same manner, neither better nor worse. 

The King rose, still a trifle unsteady from the blow he had received, and went out into the garden. There was no effort on the part of thesaluting soldier to halt him, and once outside he realized why thislatitude was allowed him. In addition to the man at the door, a secondwalked back and forth by the outer wall. As Karyl stepped into themoonlight this man, himself in the shadow, saluted as his fellow haddone. 

"I have the honor to command the guard, Your Grace, " said the man in arespectful voice. "It is by the order of His Majesty, King Louis. "Something in the enunciation puzzled Karyl with a hint of the familiar. 

"Why do you remain outside?" he asked. 

"Over this wall, any comparatively agile man might make his way to thebeach, if he succeeded in passing the muskets of the sentry-boxes--andthere are boats at the water's edge, " explained the soldier with a shortlaugh. "I am responsible for the guard, so I keep this post myself. Ibelieve myself incorruptible and men with thrones at stake might maketempting offers. "

Karyl smiled. "What would you regard as a tempting offer?" he suggested. 

For answer the man came into the light and lifted his cap. The Kinglooked into the dark eyes of Manuel Blanco. "I won into their confidenceby the hardest, " he explained in a lowered tone, "but after that, I hadno opportunity to leave them or communicate with you. This was all Icould do. As it is, I shall be recognized as soon as the Duke arrives. "

Blanco raised his voice again in casual conversation and beckoned to thesentinel at the door. When the man approached the Spaniard pointed overthe wall. "Do you see that rock? Is that a figure crouching behind itsshelter?" he demanded. As the man leaned forward, Manuel suddenly struckhim heavily at the back of the neck with a loose stone caught up fromthe masonry's coping. The soldier dropped without a sound. 

"Now, Your Majesty, we must risk it down the rock, " prompted the manfrom Cadiz, in hurried, low-pitched words. "Moments are invaluable.... It is only while I command the guard that there is a chance of yourescape.... An officer may come at any instant on a round ofinspection--my discovery as the Duke's kidnapper is a matter ofminutes.... I have been watched and tested in a hundred ways; it wasonly to-day that I convinced them of my fanatic zeal. "

Blanco hurriedly gave his cap and cape to the King, donning himself theblouse of Karyl's undress uniform. Then the two crept cautiously downthe rifted face of the cliff, holding the shadow of the crevices. Onesentry-box they passed safely, and finally they edged by the secondunnoticed. They had negotiated the hundred feet of descent and stoodpressed against the bottom, hugging the black shadow. They were waitingan opportunity to slip across a narrow sliver of intervening moonlightto the beach and the boat which lay at the water's edge. 

Occasional lazy clouds drifted across the sky. The two refugees, goadedby the realization that every wasted second cut their desperate hopemore and more to a vanishing point, watched the fleecy scraps of mistskim by the moon afar off without veiling its face. Then for a shortmoment a shred of silver-tipped cloud cut off the radiance. Blancoseized the King's arm in a wordless signal. Karyl and the bull-fighterraced across to the boat that lay at the water's edge. In a moment moreit was afloat and they were at the oars. The moon emerged and at thesame instant an outcry came from above. The musket of the man in thelower sentry-box barked with a blatant reverberation. One of the figuresin the boat drooped forward and sagged limply over his oars. The otheronly redoubled his efforts. And then again, like the curtain of atheater, a cloud dropped downward and quenched the moon and the sea andthe rock in impartial obscurity. 

CHAPTER XXIII

"SCARABS OF A DEAD DYNASTY"

Since the anchor had been weighed at Naples, the days had passeduneventfully for the indolently cruising _Isis_ with no word fromGalavia. But at last the operator caught his call and made ready toreceive. The message consisted of one word, and the word was "Cairo. "

Cara, with no suspicion of what was transpiring in Puntal, beguiled bythe spell of smooth seas and _dolce-far-niente_ softness of sky, wasonce more the frank and charming companion of the American days. 

The single word of the Marconigram had left the American in perplexity. Evidently either Karyl or Von Ritz was to meet them at Cairo. ProbablyCairo instead of Alexandria had been designated because the King hadtaken into consideration the possible danger from the plague at theseaport. He told Cara only that Karyl would join the vacation partythere and kept to himself the reservation that his coming probably meantdisaster. Yet when they reached Cairo there was no news awaiting them. 

It was the night of a confetti fête at Shephard's Hotel. Among the treesof the gardens were ropes of lights and the soft color-spots of Chineselanterns. Branches glittered with incandescent fruit of brilliantcolors. Flags hung between the fronds of the palms and the plumes of theacacias, and among the pleasure-seekers from East and West of Suez fellpelting showers of confetti. 

After dinner Cara and the ladies of her party had withdrawn to theirrooms to prepare for the gay warfare of the gardens. Benton, awaitingthem in the rotunda, lounged on one of the low divans which circle thewalls of the octagonal chamber, beneath carved lattices and Moorishpanels; a cigarette between his fingers and a small cup of black coffeeon the low tabouret at his elbow. 

The place invited lazy ease, and Benton was as indolent among hiscushions as the spirit of brooding Egypt, but his eyes, watching thestairs down which she would come, remained alert. 

Hearing his name called in a voice which rang familiarly, he glanced upto recognize the smiling face of young Harcourt, his chance acquaintanceof Capri. He set down the small Turkish cup and rose. 

"Come back to the bar and fortify yourself against the thin red line ofBritish soldiery out there in the gardens. You can get a rippinghighball for eight _piastres_, " laughed the newcomer. But Bentondeclined. 

"I am waiting for ladies, " he explained. "I'll see you again. "

"Sure you will. " Harcourt paused. "I dash up the Nile in the morning, going to do Karnak and Luxor--you know, the usual stunt. Been busy allday buying scarabs and mummied cats, but I want to see you sometimeto-night. By the way, I've heard something--"

"All right. See you later. " Benton spoke hurriedly, for he had caughtthe flash of a slender figure in white on the stairs. 

In the war of the confetti, man makes war on woman and woman on man, while over the field reigns a universal and democratic acquaintanceship. 

Cara was on vacation, and a child--bent on forgetting that to-morrowmust come. It was characteristic of her that she should enter into thespirit of the occasion with all the abandon it suggested. 

Benton stood by as she gradually gave ground before the attacks of astout, gray-templed Briton, a General of the Army of Occupation. Shefought gallantly, but he stood doggedly before her handfuls of confetti, shaking the paper chips out of his eyes and mustache like someinvincible old St. Bernard, and her slender Mandarin-coated figureretreated slowly before his red and medal-decked jacket. 

"Watch out!" cried Benton, who followed her retreat, forbidden by therules of warfare from giving aid, other than counsel, "The British Armyis putting you in a bad strategic position. "

She had retreated across the flower-beds and stood with her back to therim of the fountain. Her box of confetti was empty and Benton also waswithout ordnance supplies. 

Young Harcourt suddenly stepped forward from the crowd. 

"Here!" he cried with a smile of frank worship, as he tendered a freshbox of confetti. "Take this and remember Bunker Hill!"

The British officer bowed. 

"I surrender, " he said, "because you violate the rules of war. Yourconfetti is not deadly and your tactics are mediocre, but your eyes uselyddite. "

Inside Cara went to her room to wrestle with the tiny chips ofmulti-colored paper that covered her and filled her hair. In the hall, Harcourt came again to Benton. 

"By Jove, she is a wonder, " he said. Then he slipped his arm throughBenton's and led him aside. The American followed supinely. 

"Benton, do you remember the talk we had about Romance?"

Benton looked quickly up to forestall any possible personality to whichhe might object, but Harcourt continued. 

"Do you know that chap, Martin--he doesn't call himself Browne now--hasturned up again? He's been here. Not ragged this time, but well groomedand in high feather. To-day he left to go back to Galavia. "

"Back to Galavia?" Benton repeated the words in astonishment. "What doyou mean?"

Harcourt laughed. "The scales have turned and his Grand Duke is to beKing after all. "

Benton seized the boy by the elbow and steered him into one of the emptywriting-rooms. 

"Now, for God's sake, what do you mean?" he demanded. 

"That's all, " replied the young tourist. "They've switched Kings. Oh, itwas so quietly done that the people of the city of Puntal don't know yetit's happened. The King died suddenly and Louis will ascend his throne. "

"The King died suddenly!" Benton echoed the words blankly. "I don'tunderstand. "

"Neither do I. But Martin said the King was taken prisoner and tried toescape. He was shot. "

"How did Martin know?" asked Benton slowly, trying to realize the fullimport of the boy's chatter. 

"The news hasn't reached here, generally speaking. He said that theKing's death has not even been made public there, but the CountessAstaride has been stopping here. Martin himself was in her party and hehelped her to decipher the news from the Duke's code-telegram. " Hepaused. "However, " he added, "that may not interest you. The storyprobably bored you at first, but having told you the original tale, Ihad to add the sequel. What I really wanted to ask you, is to present meto the wonderful American girl. You will, won't you?"

Benton's back was turned to the window. He wiped his forehead with hishandkerchief and stared at nothing. 

"You will, won't you?" repeated the boy. 

"Oh, yes, of course, " Benton replied mechanically. "I shall askpermission to do so. "

Outside on the terraced veranda, where one sips tea and overlooks one ofthe most varied human tides that flows through any street of the world, Benton and Cara sat at a table near the edge--the man wondering how hecould tell her. Fakirs with spangled shawls from Assouit, beadnecklaces, ebony walking-sticks, scarabs and souvenir postcards jostledon the sidewalk to pass their wares over the railing. Fat Arab guideswith red fezes and the noisy jargon of half-mastered French and Englishdiscussed to-morrow's journeys with industrious globe-trotters. 

On the tiles squatted a juggler from India. Under his white turban hisglittering, beady eyes appraised the generosity of his audience as hearranged his flat baskets, his live rabbits and his hooded cobras for anexhibition of mercenary magic. 

Along the street, heralded with tom-toms, came a procession of lurchingcamels, jogging donkeys, rattling carriages, acrobats leading dog-facedapes and trailing Arabs in fezes--the pomp and pageantry of a pilgrimreturning from Mecca. Motors, victorias, detachments of cavalry swept byin unbroken and spectacular show. 

Benton sat stiffly with his jaw muscles tightly drawn and his eyesdazed, looking at the girl across the table. 

She turned from the street, eyes still sparkling with the reflectedvariety of the picture that hodge-podged Occident and Orient, telescoping the dead ages with to-day. 

"Oh, I love things so, " she laughed. "I'm as foolish as a child aboutthings that are new. "

With another glance at the shifting tide, she added seriously: "Andevery silly Oriental of them all is free to go where he pleases--to dowhat he pleases. I would give everything for freedom, and they haveit--and don't value it!"

Then she saw the hard strain of his face. Slowly her own eyes lost theglow of pleasurable interest and saddened with the realization of beingbarred back from life. 

The man bent forward. His fingers tightened on the edge of the tablewith a clutch which drove the blood back under his nails. It was a hardfight to retain his self-control. His question broke from him in a low, almost savage voice. 

"Cara!" he demanded. "Cara, is there any price too high to pay forhappiness?"

"What do you mean?" The intensity of his eyes held hers, and for amoment she feared for his reason. Her own question was low andsteadying, but he answered in an unnatural voice. 

"I hardly know--perhaps I have less right to speak now thanever--perhaps more. I don't know, I only know that I love you--and thatthe world seems reeling. "

Something caught in his throat. 

"I'm a cur to talk of it now. I want to think of--of--something else. Iought to think only what a splendid sort he was--but I can realize onlyone thing--I love you. "

"Only one thing, " she repeated softly. Then as she looked again into thefeverishly bright eyes under his scowl, the meaning which lay back ofhis words broke suddenly upon her. 

"_Was_!" she echoed in startled comprehension. "_Was_!--did you saywas?"

The man remained silent. 

"You mean that--?" she said the three words very slowly and stopped, unable to go on. 

"You mean--that--he--?" With a strong effort she added the one word, then gave up the effort to shape the question. Her hand closedconvulsively. 

Benton slowly nodded his head. The girl leaned forward toward him. Herlips parted, her eyes widened. 

The next instant they were misty with tears. Not hypocritical tears foran unloved husband, but sincere tears for a generous friend. 

"Delgado escaped, " he explained simply. "Karyl was captured. " Again hespoke in few words. It seemed that he could not manage long sentences. "Then he tried to escape, " he added. 

She pressed her fingers to her temples, and leaned forward, speakingrapidly in a half-whisper that sometimes broke. 

"Oh, it's not fair! It's not fair! I want to think only how splendid hewas--how unselfish--how brave! I want to think of him always as hedeserves, lovingly, fondly--and I've got to remember forever how littleI could give him in return!"

"Yes, I guess he was the whitest man--" Benton stopped, then blurted outlike a boy. "Oh, what's the use of my sitting here eulogizing him. Iguess he doesn't need my praises. I guess he can stand on his ownrecord. "

"It's monstrous!" she said, and then she, too, fell back on silence. 

Suddenly she rose to her feet, carried one hand to her heart and swayeduncertainly for a moment, steadying herself with one hand on the table. 

The man turned, following her half-hypnotic gaze, in time to see ColonelVon Ritz bending over her hand. With recognition, Benton started up, then his jaw dropped and, doubting his own sanity, he fell back into hischair and sat gazing with blank eyes. 

At Von Ritz's elbow stood Pagratide. 

Slowly Benton came to his feet, his ears ringing. Then as Karyl turnedfrom the girl and held out his hand to him, the American heard, as onelistening through the roaring of a fever, some question about affairs inGalavia. 

He heard Karyl answer, and though the words seemed to come fromsomewhere beyond Port Said, he recognized that the former King tried tospeak in a matter-of-fact voice. 

"I have no Kingdom. Louis took it. "

Karyl had held out his left hand. The right was bound down in a sling. But these things were all vague to Benton because it seemed that thepilgrim's tom-toms were beating inside his brain, and beating out oftime. He could see that Karyl's eyes also were weary and lusterless. 

Turning with an excuse for travel-stain to be removed, Karyl halted. 

"Benton, " he said. There he fell silent. "Benton, " he said again, forcing himself to speak in a voice not far from the breaking point, "Blanco--Blanco is dead. "

He turned on his heel and went into the hotel. 

Blanco dead! For a moment Benton felt an insane desire to rush afterKaryl and demand his life for Blanco's. Some delirious accusation thatthis man cost him every dear thing in life seemed fighting forexpression and reprisal, then he realized that the _toreador_ had wonhis way into Pagratide's affection as well as his own. Tears came to hiseyes for an instant. He focused his gaze on a cigarette-shop across thestreet. 

"Lady!"

A grinning Egyptian face, surmounted by a red fez, showed itself overthe railing. The girl started violently and seemed for a moment on theedge of hysteria. She laughed unnaturally. Thus encouraged, theBedouin's grin broadened until it radiated good-humor across the swarthyvisage from cheek-bone to cheek-bone. 

"Nice scarabs, lady! Only five _piastres_--only one shilling, " hespieled. "Scarabs of a dead dynasty. _Très antique_. "

CHAPTER XXIV

IN WHICH KINGS AND COMMONERS DISCUSS LOVE

In the gardens of the hotel, the paths lay ankle-deep in scatteredconfetti. Already the scores of lights were going out and those thatremained shone on the wreckage of an entertainment ended. 

Cara had gone to her rooms. In his own, at a window commanding thegarden, Benton sat in an attitude of lethargic dejection, staring downon the lingering illuminations. His brain still swirled. A dozen timeshe told himself that matters were precisely as they had been; that thedevelopments of the evening had brought no change, save a momentarybelief in a mistaken rumor and a few wild dreams. When he had waited inthe rotunda for Cara, he had known Karyl to be living. He knew it now, yet it seemed as though his life-rival had died and come again to life. It seemed, too, as though his own prison doors had swung open, and whilehe stood on the free threshold had slammed inward upon him, sweeping himback, broken and bruised with their clanging momentum. 

To-morrow he must go away. 

Benton looked at his watch. It was after four o'clock. 

Then a knock came on the door. Benton did not respond. He feared thatyoung Harcourt, belated and flushed with brandy-acid-soda, might haveseen the light of his transom and paused for gossip. The thought hecould not endure. Again he heard and ignored the knock, then the dooropened slowly, and turning his head, he recognized Karyl on histhreshold. 

Just at that moment the American could not have spoken. He had come to apoint of pent-up emotion which can move only by breaking dams. Hepointed to a chair, but Karyl shook his head. 

For a while neither spoke. Karyl's hair was rumpled; his eyes darklyringed, and the line of his lips close set. Benton glanced out of hiswindow. Across the gardens the wall was growing blanker, as lightedpanes fell dark. One window, which he knew was Cara's, still showed aparallelogram of light behind its drawn shade. Karyl in passing followedthe glance. He, too, recognized the window. 

At last the Galavian spoke. 

"Can you spare me a half-hour?"

Benton nodded. He would have preferred any other time. He neededopportunity for self-collection. 

Again Karyl spoke. 

"Benton, I might as well be brief. There are two of us. In this worldthere is room for only one. One of us is an interloper. "

The American felt the blood rush to his face; he felt it pound at theback of his eyeballs, at the base of his brain. An instinct of fury, which was only half-sane, flooded him. Red spots danced before his eyes. The other had spoken slowly, almost gently, yet he could read onlychallenge in the words, and the challenge was one he hungered to accept. 

He made a tremendous effort for self-mastery and rose slowly, turning awhite face on his visitor. 

"You told me, " he said, enunciating each word with distinctdeliberateness, "that you would fight me, when your throne freed you. You begin promptly. I am here, but--"

"I think you misunderstand me, " interrupted Karyl. 

"But, " went on Benton, ignoring the interruption, "neither of us is freeto fight. If we were, Pagratide, you may guess how gladly I'd put it tothe issue. Good God, man, what could I lose?"

"Wait, " said the late King of Galavia. "I have come here to talk withyou, Benton, in a way which is unspeakably hard. Can you not make thesame effort to lay aside passion that I am making?"

The American turned and paced the floor. 

For a moment more there was the same embarrassed silence between them, then the Galavian continued, measuring his words, speaking withdesperately studied effort to eliminate the feeling that struggled tothe surface. 

"You love my wife. "

"And shall, " replied the American in the same calculated, colorlessvoice, "while I live. "

"I, too, " said Pagratide. "Therefore we must talk. "

"Wait. " Benton raised a hand. "If we are to talk at all along theselines, Pagratide, there is only one way in which it can be done. "

"And that is what?"

"That each of us, throughout, talks with only one thought in mind: herhappiness; that one strip aside all conventions and talk as two utterlynaked souls might talk. "

"Of course, " said Karyl simply. "Otherwise I should not have suggestedit. "

"Then, " began Benton, "up to this point we are agreed. "

The King, despite his pallor, smiled. 

"I'm afraid you still don't understand me. I haven't come to murder you, or to invite murder, Benton. It would not help. "

"You have just said that one of us is an interloper. Presumably you havecome to decide which one it is. "

Karyl shook his head. 

"Benton, that point has been decided. Not by you or me, but it isdecided. "

"I don't understand you, " admitted the American. 

His visitor studied the few remaining lights in the garden beneath. 

"I am no longer a King. I am an outcast. If I ever had a claim beforeGod, it passed with my Crown. I could hold her now only by brutality. Itold you I would free her and fight for her, but I saw her eyesto-night.... Benton, it is I who am the interloper!"

No answer came to Benton's tongue. Pagratide did not seem to expect one. After a moment he went on, with the manner of one who had thought outwhat he was to say, and who compels himself to go through with theprepared recital. 

"If there is no throne, I must eliminate myself.... But for the timebeing I have given Von Ritz my parole.... The game is not yet quiteplayed out.... He and Cara agree that I must play it to the end. Afterthat there will be time to remedy mistakes. " He paused. 

"Pagratide, " said the American slowly, "you are talking wildly. At allevents, while everything impossible has happened to us, I think we can, after all shake hands. "

Karyl extended his own. 

"I have spoken as I have, " he went on, "because it was necessary to befrank. Meanwhile I must ask you to place me under yet anotherobligation. There is one safe place for her. Will you take us with youon the yacht, and cruise in unfrequented ports, until Von Ritz reportsto me?"

"Where is Von Ritz?"

"Gone back to Alexandria. He still cherishes hopes of a restoration. Hewishes to return to Galavia. "

"Can he return safely?"

Karyl shrugged his shoulders. "His conduct can hardly be construed as apolitical offense. He will be under suspicion, but all Europe wouldresent any injury to Von Ritz. "

"The _Isis_ is, of course, at your command. "

 * * * * *

In the same rooms where Karyl and his father had often consulted withVon Ritz on affairs of state, Louis Delgado sat in conference with aforeigner, who had no acknowledged position in the councils of anygovernment, yet whose mind and execution had affected many. Theforeigner was Monsieur Jusseret. 

"Why, " began the new Monarch testily, "do you believe that there shouldbe delay in proclaiming myself? I shall feel safer with the Crownactually upon my head. "

The Frenchman sat reflectively silent, his slim fingers spread, tip totip, his elbows on the arms of the chair in which he lounged. 

"Your Majesty is not a fisherman?" he suavely inquired. Louis roseimpatiently. 

"You know that I have no interest in such sports. Why do you ask?"

"It is unfortunate, " mused the Master Intriguer, "since if Your Majestywere, you would realize the inadvisability of an effort to land the gamefish too abruptly when he takes the hook. Your Majesty, however, realizes that it is wiser to eat ripe fruit than green fruit. "

The King poured himself a glass of wine, which he gulped down nervously. 

"You speak in riddles--always in riddles. What is unripe? The blow isstruck, I am in possession. What is to be gained by waiting?"

Jusseret raised his brows. 

"What blow is struck, Your Majesty? You know and I know that you occupythe Palace. Europe in general supposes that you have been here for sometime as the guest of Karyl. Europe does not yet officially know thatKaryl has vacated the throne. The governments agreed to recognize you, but the governments relied upon your adequately disposing of your royalkinsman. Yet he is now at large. "

The Pretender wheeled suddenly on the calm gentleman sitting indolentlyin his chair. The Pretender's face paled. 

"Do you mean, Monsieur Jusseret, that after enticing me into this madenterprise you now purpose to abandon me?" The coward's terror addedexcitement to the questioning voice. 

Jusseret smiled. 

"By no means, " he assured. "But Your Majesty must now play your part. Imerely counsel holding the reins of government lightly--as Regent--untilit is logically advisable to grasp them tightly as King. Karyl escaped. The man shot proves to be an unknown who had changed coats with theKing. Ostensibly, His late Majesty is traveling. You are hisrepresentative. Now, if His Majesty and the Queen should fail to returnfrom their journeyings, your position would be stronger. "

Louis sank into a chair, deeply agitated. "I fear this man Von Ritz moredeeply than Karyl. "

"Naturally, " was Jusseret's dry comment. "But Your Majesty will leaveVon Ritz alone. I also, should like to see him disposed of--but leavehim alone, or you will incur Europe's displeasure. "

"What shall I do?" The question came in a note of plaintivehelplessness. 

The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. 

"If you ask my counsel, I should say send for one Martin. He has beenof some service. He is a man of action. He is called the English Jackal. I should suggest--" He paused. 

"Yes, yes--you would suggest what?" eagerly prompted the new King. 

"Really, Your Majesty, you should act more promptly on hints. Diplomatscannot diagram their suggestions. I should suggest that the EnglishJackal also travel, with the understanding that if he should return toGalavia after the death of the late King and Queen--and that shortly--hemay expect certain titles and recognition at Court, but if he returnsbefore their death, he need expect nothing. " Jusseret lighted acigarette. 

The Pretender sat silent, frightened, vacillating. 

"And, " went on Jusseret calmly, "there was one other suggestion which Ishall make, if Your Majesty will permit me the liberty. "

"What?"

"Touching Your Majesty's marriage--"

"Yes--Marie is also in some hurry about that. What is the devilishhaste? One can be married at any time. "

Monsieur Jusseret rose and began drawing on his gloves. 

"Of course if Your Majesty sees fit, a morganatic marriage with theCountess Astaride would be entirely advisable--but for the Queen ofGalavia, Europe will insist on a stronger alliance; on a union with moreroyal blood. "

Louis came to his feet in astonishment. 

"You dare suggest that?" he exclaimed. "You, who have been her ally andused her aid!"

"Pardon me--I suggest nothing. I repeat to Your Majesty, as the veryhumble mouthpiece of France, the sentiment of the governments, withoutwhose recognition your dynasty can hardly stand. "

CHAPTER XXV

ABDUL SAID BEY EFFECTS A RESCUE

Martin, tall and aggressively British, from the black silk tassel on hisred fez to the battered puttees and brown boots that had once come outof Bond Street, stood watching the _Isis_ outlined against the oppositewalls of the Yildiz Kiosk. 

Few pleasure-craft call at Constantinople. 

"If you had not, as usual, been so damned late"--he turned with agesture of raw impatience to the heavy-faced _Osmanli_ at his side--"Icould have pointed them out to you on Galata Bridge. As it is, they havereturned to the yacht. "

"May Heaven never again thwart your wish with delay, Martin _Effendi_. "The Turk spoke placidly, his oily voice soft as a benediction, "I wasdelayed by pigs, and sons of pigs! Your annoyance is my desolatingsorrow, yet"--he waved his hand with a bland gesture--"I am but theservant of His Majesty, the Sultan--whom Allah preserve--and theofficial is frequently detained. "

"What is done, is done. _Bismillah_--no matter!" The Englishman curbedhis annoyance and spoke as one resigned. "What now remains is this: Wemust see them, and you must learn to recognize them. You understand?"

The other bowed in unperturbed assent. 

"All Europeans, " he suggested, "dine at the Pera Palace Hotel--it is theMecca of their hunger. "

To the white man's voice returned the ring of asperity. "And at the PeraPalace, we shall not only see, but be seen. Likewise unless we have acare in this enterprise, we shall not only eat, but be eaten. A man maystare at whom he chooses on Galata Bridge. "

"When I dine in a public place"--the _Osmanli_ smiled cunningly from thedepths of small pig-like eyes--"I shield myself behind a screen. Thusmay I observe unobserved. "

The sun had set, but the yellow after-glow still lingered in the skybehind Stamboul as the two men stood looking toward Galata Bridge, wheretheir quarry had escaped them, and across the Golden Horn. 

A pyramid of domes, flanked by a pair of slender minarets, daintilyproclaimed the Mosque Yeni-Djami against the fading amber. On GalataBridge itself, the day-long tide of medleyed life was thinning. Wherethere had been an eddying current of turbans and _tarbooshes_, bespeaking all the tribes and styles which foregather at the meetingplace of two Continents and two seas, there were now only the belatedfew. 

To the jaded imagination of Martin _Effendi_ and his companion, AbdulSaid _Bey_, the falling of night over the quadruple city, smotheringmore than a million souls under a single blanket of blackness, made noappeal. They were watching a yacht. 

Over the Pera roofs swept flocks of crows to roost in their gardenrookeries at the center of the town. Across the harbor water, now toogloomy to reveal its thousands of jelly-fish, drifted the complainingcries of the loons. Then as the occasional city lamps began to twinkle, making the darkness murkier by their inadequacy, there arose from thetwisting ways of Pera, Galata and Stamboul the night howling of thirtythousand dogs. 

At length Martin held up the dial of his watch to the uncertain light. 

"I must be off, " he announced. "Jusseret is waiting at the Pera Palace. Don't fail us at seven-thirty. "

The tireless features of Abdul Said _Bey_ once more shaped themselvesinto a deliberate smile. "Of a surety, _Effendi_. May your virtues everfind favor in the sight of Allah. "

For a moment the pig-like eyes followed the well-knit figure of theEnglishman as it went swinging along the street. Then the Turk turnedand lost himself in the darkness. 

The Pera Palace Hotel stands in the European quarter of the town. To itsdoors your steps are guided by a trail of shop signs in English, French, German and Greek, among which appear only occasional characters in thenative Arabic. 

Almost immediately after Cara, Pagratide and Benton had seatedthemselves in the dining-room that evening, Arab servants secluded acorner table, close to their own, behind _mushrabieh_ screens. The partyfor whom this distinguished aloofness had been arranged made itsentrance through an unseen door, but the voices indicated that severalwere at table there. The waiter who served this table apart might havetestified that one was an Englishman, wearing in addition to Europeanevening dress the native _tarboosh_, or fez. Also, that against hiswhite shirt-front glittered the Star of Galavia. The second diner woreone of the many elaborate uniforms that signify Ottoman officialdom. Hiseyes were small and pig-like, and as he talked no feature or gesture atthe table beyond escaped his appraising scrutiny. 

There was one other behind the _mushrabieh_ screens. The niceties of hisdress were Parisian, punctilious, perfect. In his right lapel was theunostentatious button of the _Legion d'Honneur_. 

The Englishman spoke. "Much of your story, _Monsieur_ Jusseret, isfamiliar to me. It will, however, prove interesting _in toto_, Idaresay, to our friend Abdul Said _Bey_, whom Allah preserve. "

There was a murmur of compliment from the Turk, adding his assurance ofinterest, and the Frenchman took up the thread of his narrative. 

"We supposed that Karyl was dead--the Throne of Galavia clear forDelgado. Alas, we were in error!" The speaker shook his head in deepregret, as, turning to Martin, he added:

"It was a pardonable mistake. Let us hope the announcement was merelypremature. " He lifted his wine-glass with the air of one proposing atoast. "It becomes our duty to make that statement true. _Messieurs_, our success!"

When the three glasses had been set down, the Englishman questioned:"How did it occur?"

In the smooth manner of an after-dinner narrative, Jusseret explainedthe occurrences of the night when he had brought his plans to an almostsuccessful termination. He told his story with charm of recital, verveand humor, and gave it withal a touch of vivid realism, so that even hisauditors, long since graduated from the stage where a tale ofadventurous undertaking thrilled them, yet listened with profoundinterest. 

With the salad Jusseret sighed regretfully. 

"I rather plume myself on one quality of my work, _Monsieur_ Martin. Irarely overlook an integral detail. I, however, find myself growingalarmingly faulty of judgment. "

"Indeed!" The Englishman was not greatly engrossed in theautobiographical phases of Jusseret's diplomatic felonies. 

"I regret to acknowledge it, but it is, alas, true. I reflected that theworld would resent harsh treatment of a man like Von Ritz. He hadcommitted no crime. We could not charge treason against a government notyet born. I opposed even exile. He immediately rejoined his fleeingKing--and has since returned to Puntal, where one can only surmise whatmischief he agitates. It may be as well to consider his future. "

"And now, " callously supplemented the Englishman, "our new King feels anuncertainty of tenure so long as the old King lives, and I am rushedafter this refugee Monarch with brief instructions to dispose of him. "

There was a certain eloquence in the shrug of Jusseret's shoulders. "_Messieurs_, we have wrecked Karyl's dynasty, but it still devolvesupon us in workmanlike fashion to clear away the débris. "

Martin leaned forward and put his query like an attorney cross-examininga witness. 

"Where was this Queen when the King was taken?"

"That, " replied Jusseret, "is a question to be put to Von Ritz orKaryl. It would appear that Von Ritz suspected the end and, wise as heis in the cards of diplomacy, resolved that should his King be taken, hewould still hold his Queen in reserve. That Kingdom does not hold to theSalic Law--a Queen may reign! And so you see, my colleagues, " hesummarized, "we, representing the plans of Europe, find ourselvesconfronted with questions unanswered, and with matters yet to do. "

Martin's voice was matter-of-fact. "After all, " he observed, "what arethe odds, where the King was or where the Queen was at a given time inthe past, so long as we jolly well know where they are to-night?"Turning to the Sultan's officer, he spoke rapidly. "You understand whatis expected?" He pointed one hand to the party from the yacht. "The mannearest us is the King who failed to remain dead. That failure iscurable if you play your game. " He paused. "The lady, " he added, "hasthe misfortune to have been the Queen of Galavia. You understand, mybrother?"

The Turk rose, pushing back his chair. 

"Your words are illuminating. " He spoke with a profound bow. "In servingyou, I shall bring honor to my children, and my children's children. "With the Turkish gesture of farewell, his fingers touching heart, lipsand forehead, he betook himself backward to the door. 

Two hours later, alighting from a rickety victoria by the landing-stage, Cara made her way between the two men, toward the waiting launch fromthe _Isis_. Filthy looking Arabs, to the number of a dozen, rose out ofthe shadows and crowded about the trio, pleading piteously for_backshish_ in the name of Allah. The party found itself forced backtowards the carriage, and Benton fingered the grip of the revolver inhis pocket as the other hand held the girl's arm. At the same momentthere was a sudden clamor of shouting and the patter of running feet. Then the throng of beggars dropped back under the pelting blows fromheavy _naboots_ in the hands of _kavasses_. 

An instant later a stout Turk in official uniform broke through theconfusion, shouting imprecations. 

"Back, you children of swine!" he declaimed. "Back to your mires, youpigs! Do you dare to affront the great _Pashas_?" Then, turningobsequiously, he bowed with profound apology. "It is a bitter sorrowthat you should be annoyed, " he assured them, "but it is over. "

"To whom have we the honor of expressing our thanks?" smiled Pagratide. 

The _Osmanli_ responded with a deprecating gesture of self-effacement. 

"To one of the least of men, " he said. "I am called Abdul Said _Bey_. Iam the humble servant of His Majesty, the Sultan--whom Allah preserve. "

As the launch put off, the elliptical figure of Abdul Said _Bey_, on thelowest step of the landing, speeded its departure with a gesture ofceremonious farewell--fingers sweeping heart, lips and forehead. "If yougo to shop in Stamboul, " he shouted after them, "have a care. The pigswill cheat you--all save Mohammed Abbas. "

When the reflected lights of the launch shimmered in vague downwardshafts at a distance, he turned and the scattered throng of beggarsregathered to group themselves about him with no trace of fear. 

"You will know them when you see them in the bazaars?" he demanded. "Youshall be taught in time what is expected--likewise _bastinadoed_ uponyour bare soles if you fail. Now you have only to remember the faces ofthe Infidels. Go!" He swept out his hand and the Bedouins scattered likerats into a dozen dark places. 

 * * * * *

If the panorama of Constantinople fades from a lurid silhouette to asooty monotone by night, it at least makes amends by day. Then the sun, shining out of a sky of intense blue, on water vividly green, catchesthe tiled color-chips of the sprawling town; glints on dome andminaret, and makes such a city as might be seen in a kaleidoscope. 

Her insatiable appetite for beauty had brought Cara on deck early. Theearly shore-wind tossed unruly brown curls into her eyes and across thedelicate pink of her cheeks. 

When the yachtsman joined her, she read in his eyes that he had beenlong awake and was deeply troubled. In the shadow of the after-cabin shestopped him with a light touch on his arm. 

"Now tell me, " she demanded, "what is the matter?"

His voice was quiet. "There is nothing in my thoughts that you cannotread--so--" He lifted the eyes in question, half-despairing despite thesmile he had schooled into them. "Why rehearse it all again?"

Her face clouded. 

He turned his gaze on the single dome and four minarets of the Mosque ofSuleyman. 

"Besides, " he added at length, speaking in a steady monotone, "Icouldn't tell it without saying things that are forbidden. "

When she spoke the dominant note in her voice was weariness. 

"My life, " she said, "is a miserable serial of calling on you andsending you away. Back there"--she waved her hand to the vague west--"itis summer--wonderful American summer! The woods are thick and green.... The big rocks by the creek are splotched yellow with the sun, and greenwith the moss.... I wonder who rides Spartan now, when the hounds areout!" She broke off suddenly, with a sobbing catch in her throat, thenshe shook her head sadly. "You see, you must go!" she added. "You willtake my heart with you--but that is better than this. "

She turned and led the way forward and for the length of the deck hewalked at her side in silence. 

As they halted he demanded, very low; "And you--?"

Her answering smile was pallid as she quoted, "'More than a littlelonely'--" then, reverting to her old name for him, she laughed withcounterfeited gayety--"as, Sir Gray Eyes, people must be--who try to begood. "

CHAPTER XXVI

IN A CURIO SHOP IN STAMBOUL. 

The _muezzin_ had called the devout to their prayer-rugs for the thirdtime that day, when the girl and the two men turned from the Stamboulend of Galata Bridge into the tawdry confusion of buildings whichcluster about the Mosque Yeni-Djami. They were bound for the bazaars. 

Along the twisting ways stretched the booths of native merchants stockedwith the thousand fascinating trifles that the City of the Sultanmarkets to the journeying world. Everywhere the crowd surged andjostled. 

On the side street where the shops are a trifle larger than theirneighbors, one Mohammed Abbas keeps his curio bazaar. In such floweryOrientalism of appeal did he couch his plea for an inspection of hiswares, that Cara was persuaded and turned into the shop. Cut off bypressure of the crowd, Pagratide, who was following, some paces back, caught a glimpse of her figure in the door and fought his way to herside, but Benton, having stopped to price a bracelet of antique silverset with turquoises, lost sight of them. The girl had become interestedin a quaint, curved dagger thickly studded with semi-precious stones. 

Mohammed Abbas urged her to see the rarer and choicer articles which hekept in an upper room. As they tailed, a half-dozen natives, swarthy andvillainous of face, drifted into the shop to be promptly ordered out bythe proprietor, who used for that purpose a vocabulary of scope andvividness. The ruffians retreated after a brief conversation in gutturalArabic, but not by the street door through which they had come. Instead, they left by a low-arched exit to the rear, concealed from view by theangle of the screening stairway. Abbas led his customers to an upperroom which they found dark except where he lighted it as he went withhanging lamps. Its space was generous, broken here and there by piles ofebony furniture, inlaid with pearl; pieces of Saracenic armor, Damascened bucklers, and all the gear too large for the narrow confinesbelow. 

Half an hour's searching through the chaos of wares failed to reveal thechoice daggers which Mohammed wished them to see, and with manyapologies for added annoyance he begged _Monsieur_ and _Madame_ to mountyet another flight, and visit yet another store-room. At the head ofthese stairs they encountered absolute darkness and the shopman, withhis ever-ready apologies, paused again to light lamps. 

As Pagratide's pupils accustomed themselves to the murk he realized thatthis last room was bare except for tapestries hung flat against thewall, and that at its farther side narrow slits of light showed alongthe sills of two doors. Turning, he noted the darker shadow of somerecess in the wall, immediately to his left. 

Suddenly Mohammed Abbas closed the door upon the stairs, and sharplyclapped his hands. In all lands where Allah is worshiped, clapping ofthe hands is a signal of summons. Thrusting his hand into the pocketwhere he had stored an automatic pistol, Karyl found it empty, andremembered that on the stairway the merchant had apologized for jostlinghim. Then simultaneously the two opposite doors opened and framedagainst their light a momentary picture of crowding Arabs. 

 * * * * *

Outside, Benton had been searching. First he had felt only annoyance fora chance separation, but when ten minutes of futile wandering hadlengthened to fifteen, annoyance gave way to fear, and fear to panic. Adozen tragic stories of mysterious disappearances in Stamboul crowdedlike nightmares upon his memory. At last, standing bewildered in thestreet, he caught sight of a familiar figure; a figure that filled himwith astonishment and delight. 

Colonel Von Ritz had left Cairo to return to Puntal. Now here he was ina crooked Stamboul street, appearing without warning, but with hisalmost uncanny faculty for being at the right spot when needed. Heshouldered his way to the side of the officer. 

Though the two men had parted several weeks before, the Galavian greetedthe other only with a formal bow, and an abrupt question. "Where arethey?"

"I have lost them, " replied Benton. He rapidly sketched the events ofthe last half-hour, and confessed his own apprehensions. 

With evidence of neither anxiety nor interest, Von Ritz listened, andreplied with a second question. "Have you seen Martin?"

Benton gave a palpable start. "Martin!" he ejaculated. "Is Martin inConstantinople?"

For reply Von Ritz permitted himself the rare indulgence of a smile. 

"Martin is here, " he said briefly. 

"And you--?"

As he spoke the figure of Martin himself emerged from a shop a few pacesahead, and without a backward glance cut diagonally across the narrowstreet to disappear into the doorway of the curio shop which is kept byMohammed Abbas. 

When, after being cut off and delayed for some minutes by a passingdonkey train, Von Ritz and Benton entered the place, they found it emptyexcept for a native salesman, but as the Galavian paused to make atrivial purchase his listening ear caught a sound above. Withouthesitation, he wheeled and mounted the stairs with Benton close at hisheels. Behind him the shop-clerk stood irresolute--taken aback, with avague consciousness that he should have devised a way to stop thisgigantic Infidel. Assuredly the master would be angry. Orders had beenexplicitly given to allow no one to climb those steps to-day withoutpermission. 

While Cara and Karyl had been on the second floor, a heavy _Osmanli_, wearing the Sultan's uniform, had stood in the center of the room above, looking about with keen, pig-like eyes, as he gave rapid commands to ahalf dozen Arabs of villainous visage. 

"You, Sayed Ayoub, " he ordered, "take your pig of a self and others likeunto you into that doorway by the stairs. Remain until you hear menenter from these two doors, facing the Infidel dogs. Then come upon themfrom behind. The man is to be bound, and when evening comes--but that islater! Still, if he resists too much--" The speaker shrugged his heavyshoulders and made a certain gesture. 

"And the woman? What of her?" The question came from a gigantic Bedouinwhose evil countenance was made the more sinister by one closed andempty eye-socket. 

Abdul Said _Bey_ nodded. "She is to be tenderly handled, " he enjoined. "She, also, must disappear, but that shall be my care. My harem is assilent as the Bosphorus. "

There were steps on the stairs, and instantaneously the room emptieditself and became silently dark. 

When Karyl heard the hand-clapping of the decoy shopman, and saw theresponding ruffians in the opposite doors, he swiftly thrust the girlinto the spot of blacker shadow at his back, and seized the wrist ofMohammed Abbas with a force and suddenness that wrung from him a piteouswail. 

Keeping the Turk before him, he backed toward the shadowed recess, withthe one idea of shielding Cara. But the darker spot was the door behindwhich Sayed Ayoub lay in ambuscade, and as Karyl reached it, it swungopen, showing them against a background as bright as though they werepainted on yellow canvas. 

With his free arm he swept Cara into the doorway, wheeling quickly infront of her, and sent Mohammed Abbas lurching forward into the faces ofthe assailants led by Sayed Ayoub. Instantly, however, his arms werepinioned from behind by the reënforcements, and as he franticallystruggled to turn his face, in an effort to see the girl, some thickfabric fell over his head, covering mouth and eyes, and he went downstifled and garroted into insensibility. 

Seeing the man overwhelmed and dragged through the door, Cara stoodrigidly upright, white in the intensity of voiceless outrage, until thegigantic brute with one sightless eye and a greasy _tarboosh_ reachedout his grimy hand and seized her. Then she sickened at the profaningshock of his touch, and fell unconscious. 

A few moments later the "English Jackal" stood nonchalantly looking downat the bound figure of the former King lying on the floor, shoulderspropped against the wall, head wrapped in a richly embroidered shawlfrom Persia. Lamps had been kindled. The head wrappings had already beensomewhat loosened and Karyl was stirring with the indication ofreturning consciousness. 

"Oh, damn it!" remarked Martin in disgust. "He doesn't need to be bothtrussed up and gagged, you know. He's quite safe. Take off the headcloths. "

He stuffed tobacco into his blunt bull-dog pipe as he supervised theundoing of the smothering fabric and complacently looked at hisprisoner. 

Freed from the bandage, and drinking in again reviving breaths, Karylawoke to the sense of his surroundings. His eyes at once swept the placefor Cara, but he saw only the closed door of the room where she wasdetained. 

Martin looked down and as their eyes met he casually nodded. 

"Sorry to inconvenience you, " he commented affably, "but this ispolitics, you know. I happen to work for the other chap, King Louis. " Asan afterthought he added: "And the other chap thinks that you are, toput it quite civilly, unnecessary. "

He smoked meditatively, while Karyl, without reply, scowled up into hisface. The sense of futility left Pagratide silent. He lay insanelyfurious like a trapped wolf, able only to glare. 

Suddenly the complacency deserted the Englishman's features, for astartled expression. With a violent malediction he bent forwardlistening. 

Karyl's ears also caught the sound of feet on the stairs, immediatelyfollowed by a crash upon the door. 

Martin drew a heavy revolver from a holster under his coat, and hisvoice ripped out orders with the sharp decision which had survived thedays when he wore a British uniform. "Here, you beggars, " he shouted, "to that door!"

As the Bedouins swarmed forward there came a second crash under whichthe panels fell in, precipitating Von Ritz and Benton into a fierceswarm of human hornets. 

Falling desperately upon the newcomers with swords, knives and_naboots_, the bravos afforded them no time to take breath after theirclimb of the stairs. 

Martin, standing with his pipe clamped between his teeth, took no partin the onslaught. He cast a glance at the turmoil, then deliberatelycocked his weapon and leveled it at the breast of his captive. 

Karyl realized that the Jackal was not to be led away from his singlepurpose: that of execution. If he himself were to speak to his rescuers, he must do it quickly. He raised his voice. 

"Von Ritz! To that door!" he shouted loudly, but the Galavian and hiscompanion, fighting desperately to hold their own, with the shouts andclamor of the struggling Moslems in their ears, did not hear, and theEnglishman only smiled. 

"They are quite busy, you know, " he drawled in a half-apologetic tone. "Give them a bit of time. "

Von Ritz was fighting with the blade of his sword-cane, while Benton, too closely pressed to make use of his pistol, was relying upon hisfists. Indeed, the two white men owed their lives to the crowding whichmade effective fighting impossible on either side. 

At last the Turks gave back a few steps for a fresh rush and Benton, taking instant advantage of the widened space, fired into the crowd. They turned in terror at the first report and went stampeding to theseveral doors. Then for the first time the rescuers caught sight of theEnglishman standing guard over the bound figure on the floor. 

With the grim smile of one who, recognizing the end, neither flinchesnor dallies, Martin fired two shots from his leveled revolver. 

A half-second too late Benton's magazine pistol ripped out in a frenziedseries of spats. The Englishman swayed slightly, his face crimson withblood, then, propping himself weakly against the wall, he fired oneineffectual shot in reply. Slowly wilting at waist and knees, his figureslipped to the floor and lay shapelessly huddled near that of Karyl. Thestench of powder filled the room. Twisting spirals of smoke curledceilingward. 

Von Ritz and Benton, kneeling at the King's side, raised him from thefloor. The wounded man attempted to speak. His eyes turned inquiringlytoward the door of the other room. Benton caught the questioning lookand nodded his head. Then Karyl settled back against the officer'ssupporting shoulder after the fashion of a reassured child. 

"The King is dead, " said Colonel Von Ritz quietly. There was somethingvery pathetic in the steady despair of his voice. 

A door opened, and several Bedouins retreated shame-faced and cowedbefore a heavy Turk who wore the Sultan's uniform. His small, pig-likeeyes blazed with terrifying wrath. Looking about the room for a moment, he volcanically reviled them. 

"You dogs! You pigs! You serpents!" he shrieked. "Your hearts shall bethrown to the buzzards! Your children dishonored! You have dared toattack the foreign _Pashas_, and you--Mohammed Abbas--!" The shopkeeperfell trembling to his knees. "Your filthy shop shall be pulled downabout your ears. You make it a trap--your feet shall be _bastinadoed_until you are a cripple for life!" Then his rage choked him, and, wheeling, he walked over to Benton, contemptuously kicking the prostratebody of Martin _Effendi_ as he went. 

From every pore Abdul Said _Bey_ exuded sympathy and commiseration. Scenting liberal _backshish_, he promised absolute secrecy for theaffair, coupled with soothing assurances of private vengeance upon thesurviving miscreants. Also, he bewailed the disgrace which had fallenupon the Empire by reason of such infamy. He presumed that the foreigngentlemen preferred secret punishment of the malefactors to a publicsensation. It should be so. 

In his anxiety for Cara, Benton left Von Ritz to adjust matters with theTurk, who with profound courtesy and amazing promptness had closedcarriages at a rear door, and caused his _kavasses_ to clear thealley-way of prying eyes. 

When the American reached the room where Cara had been left it wasdeserted by the assassin's guards. With a sudden stopping of his heart, he saw her lying apparently lifeless on a stacked-up pile of rugs. In aterror that he scarcely dared to investigate, he laid his ear hesitantlyto her breast, then, reassured, he gave thanks for the anesthetic ofunconsciousness with which nature had blinded her to the tragedy beyondthe closed door. 

Two curtained carriages drove across Galata Bridge and in the mysteriousquiet of Stamboul there was no ripple on the surface of affairs as othertourists haggled over a few _piastres_ in the curio shops of thebazaar. 

CHAPTER XXVII

BENTON SAYS GOOD-BY

Louis Delgado awaited Jusseret in an agony of doubt and fear. 

The Frenchman was late. A dispatch from the frontier had announced hiscoming, but to the anxiety of Delgado delays seemed numberless andinterminable. 

At last an aide ushered him into the apartment where the new Monarchwaited, his inevitable glass of Pernod and anisette twisting in hisfingers. Jusseret bowed. 

"Where is Martin?" inquired the King. 

"Dead, " said the newcomer briefly. The Pretender paled palpably. Evidently the plan had gone awry. Fear always stood near the fore, readyto rush out upon Delgado's timid spirit. 

"And being dead, " resumed the Frenchman, "he is much safer. "

Louis gave a half-shuddering sigh of relief. He had none of thatrighteous horror of crime which makes the face of murder hideous, but inits place he had all the terrors of the weak, and playing with life anddeath gave him over to panic. 

"I should suggest an announcement that King Karyl had fled for a timefrom the cares of State and was traveling as a private gentleman instrictest incognito, when sudden death overtook him. There need be nohint of violence. There must be a State funeral. "

"Where is the body?" objected Louis. 

Jusseret shrugged his shoulders. 

"That I cannot say. I can, however, assure you that it is quitelifeless. Since the death occurred some days ago the lying in State maybe dispensed with. A closed casket is sufficient. "

"And his Queen?"

"That point is left unguarded, but from intimations I have received, Ibelieve the Queen will be satisfied with private life. If you announceher abdication, she will hardly contradict you. "

"And Von Ritz?" persisted Louis, with the manner of one who wishes allthe ghosts which terrify him laid by someone stronger and less afraid ofghosts than himself. 

"Leave Von Ritz to me. He is no fool. Von Ritz knows who instigated themurder of the King, but he is without proof. The thing happened farbeyond the borders of Galavia. "

Louis rose unsteadily from his chair. 

"Jusseret, " he began, "this interview with Marie still confronts me andI dread it. Would it not be better for you to explain to her? You couldpersuade her that Kings are not free in these matters, that crownedheads from antiquity to Napoleon have been compelled to obey thedictates of State. "

The Frenchman stiffened. 

"Your Majesty, " he observed, "it is impossible. Your attachment for theCountess Astaride is a personal matter. I am concerned only in affairsof State. I must even require of you, in respect to that confidencewhich obtains between gentlemen, that you shall in no wise intimate thatthis suggestion came from me. "

The new incumbent, who had brought to the Throne of Galavia all thelibertine's irresoluteness, paced the floor in perplexed distress. Hefeared Jusseret. He dared not anger or disobey him. It appeared thatbeing a King was not what he had conceived it, as he sat under thechestnut trees of the Paris boulevards and listened to the band. 

When Jusseret had left him to his thoughts he paused three times with atremulous finger on the call-bell, unable to command the couragerequired to send a message to the Countess Astaride. Finally hesucceeded and five minutes later stood shamefacedly in the presence ofthe woman who had made him King. She was more than usually beautiful, and as always her beauty and personality dominated him, swayed hissenses like music. It was so easy to slip into the impetuous attitudeof the lover; so difficult to maintain the austere one of the Monarch. 

Delgado nerved himself and began. 

How he said it or what he said, he did not himself know when the wordshad been spoken. He rushed through the speech he had prepared like afrightened child at recitation and waited for the outburst of her anger. He waited in vain. 

Marie Astaride had plotted, had consented to every infamy which had beensuggested as necessary to bring the man she loved to the Crown. 

Now she was silent. 

The man looked up when he had waited a seeming century for the expectedtorrent of reproach. 

She was standing supporting herself upon her downward stretched arms, her hands resting on the table. Her face was pallid and her magnificentfigure rigid. The scarlet fullness of her lips had gone bloodless. Hereyes were stupefied. 

At length she straightened herself, let go her support upon the tableand went slowly like a sleep-walker from the room. She had not spoken. She had not said good-by, but Louis Delgado knew that she had walked outof his life. 

 * * * * *

That evening Monsieur Jusseret of the French _Cabinet Noir_ met, as ifby chance, young Lieutenant Lapas, who was now high in the favor of thenew government. Jusseret knew that the lure which had drawn young Lapasaway from the confidence of Karyl to the uncertain standard of Delgadohad been the influence of the Countess Astaride. He knew that Lapasloved her hopelessly, willing even in her name to serve the greater manwho loved her more successfully. His attachment was that of the boy forthe woman who is mistress of all the mature arts of charm. This lovecould be turned into the fanatic's zeal; this boy could be led to theextreme of martyrdom, if the strings of his characterless nature wereplayed upon with a skill sufficiently consummate. Jusseret knew also anumber of other things. He knew that whereas he had, to all seeming, brought a difficult task to completion, he was in reality not yet halfthrough. His own vision went farther into the future, and recognized inthe present only a mile-post far from the ultimate. 

He led Lapas to his own rooms. He was leaving for Paris the followingmorning, he explained, and wished a brief conference. 

Jusseret could, when occasion demanded, be not only calm andself-sufficient, but also emotional. Now he was emotional. 

"Rarely, indeed, " he began, "do I permit personal indignation to exciteme. But this is so unspeakable that I wished to talk to you. You enjoythe confidence of the Countess Astaride?"

"Only in a humble way, " confessed young Lapas. 

"But you are her friend? If she were wronged and had no other defender, you would assume her cause?"

"With my life, " protested the officer, fervently. 

"This matter, " said Jusseret dubiously, "might cost you your life. Possibly I should not tell you. As a politician I can have nothing to dowith it, but as a man, I wish I were myself free to act. "

"Who has offended the Countess?" demanded Lapas hotly. 

"Offended, my young friend! This is not an offense. It is the gravestindignity that can be shown a woman. It is an insult to which a man musteither blind himself--or punish with such means as can ignore personalperil. "

"For God's sake, " insisted the other, "explain yourself. "

"Louis Delgado, " began Jusseret quietly, "accepted this woman's love:enjoyed it to the full. He sat and dreamed over his absinthe futiledreams of power. He was too weak to strike a blow--too weak to raise ahand. Then she took up his cause; intrigued, enlisted our interests, raised his supine and powerless ambitions to a throne. There he abandonsher at the foot of the stairs by which he mounted; and refuses her hisCrown. He talks now of a more Royal alliance. " Jusseret spread his handsin a gesture of disgust. 

Lapas rose tensely from his chair. The veins on his temples stood outcorded and deep-lined. 

"This cannot be true, sir, " he argued. "There must be some error. Youwrong the King. "

"Am I the man to wrong Louis?" questioned the Frenchman. "You have onlyto wait and see for yourself. The matter rests with you. She and I haveput Louis on the throne. So much I did as the servant of my government. What I say to you I say as a man, and I had rather behold all my workundone than to stand by and see it bear such fruit. Adieu. "

He rose slowly and took his departure. Outside, he smiled. 

"I fancy, " he told himself, "he will go to the Countess. I fancy shewill corroborate me--and then--!" He dismissed the matter with hishabitual shrug. 

 * * * * *

Two weeks had passed since the tragedy in Stamboul, and the _Isis_cruised aimlessly westward. The Mediterranean stretched to the horizon, so placid that the froth from the wake washed languidly, almostlifelessly, on the surface, and a single cloud hung stationary in thesofter blue of the sky. Wrapped in a steamer rug, her figure, moreslender in the simple lines of her black gown, Cara sat gazing towardthe receding coast-line of Malta. So she had spent most of the hourssince they had weighed anchor at Constantinople. On the deck at her feetsat Benton. 

At Piræus Von Ritz had secured a copy of the _Figaro_ several days old, and the men had read its report of the Regency of Louis in Puntal. Thenthe yacht had called at Malta where the gray fortresses of Valetta frownout to sea, and Von Ritz had once more gone in quest of news. 

That had been yesterday. By common consent the two men refrained fromallusions to State matters in the girl's presence. Now the formeradviser of the King uneasily paced the deck. Over his usuallysphinx-like face brooded the troubled expression of one who confronts anunwelcome necessity. Suddenly he halted before the girl's deck-chair, and, schooling his voice with an apparent effort, spoke in his old-timeeven modulation, but for once he found it difficult to meet the eyes ofthe person he addressed. 

"We have heretofore not spoken of things which we would all give manyyears of life to forget, " he began. Then he added with feeling: "Onlythe sternest necessity could force me to do so now. "

As he paused for permission to continue, the girl raised her eyes with asad smile that had grown habitual. 

"I have come, " said Von Ritz, "to stand for an implacable Nemesis toyou, and yet I should wish to be identified only with happiness in yourthoughts. To me one thing always comes first. The House of Galavia is mygospel; has been my gospel since Karyl's father mounted its throne. " Hepaused and added gravely: "Louis Delgado has reaped his reward--he isdead. "

Benton's voice broke out in an explosive "Thank God!"

Von Ritz stood a moment silent, then, dropping to one knee, he took thefingers which fell listlessly over the arm of Cara's steamer-chair andraised them to his lips. 

"Your Majesty is Queen of Galavia. "

The American came to his feet, his hands clenched, but with quickself-mastery he stood back, breathing heavily. 

Cara sat for a moment only half-comprehending, then with a low moan sheleaned forward and covered her face with both hands. 

"Forgive me, " said Von Ritz. "I _am_ your Nemesis. "

Benton moved over silently and knelt beside her chair. Neither spoke, but at last she raised her face and sat looking out at the water, thenslowly one hand came out gropingly toward the American and both of hisown closed over it. Von Ritz stood waiting. 

When finally she spoke, her voice was almost childlike, full ofpleading. 

"I thought, " she said, "that all that was over. I had thought thatwhatever is left of life belonged just to me--for my very own. I thoughtI could take it away and try to mend it. "

Von Ritz turned his head and his eyes traveled northward and westward, where, somewhere beyond the horizon, lay his country. 

"Galavia needs you, " he said with grave simplicity. "Unless you come toher aid there must be ruin and dismemberment. You will save yourcountry. "

But his words appeared to convert all her crushed and pathetic miseryinto anger. "It is not my country!" she replied almost fiercely. "To meit means only--"

Von Ritz raised his hand supplicatingly. "It is my country, " he saidsadly, "and--your duty. Its fate is in your hands. "

The girl rose, swayed slightly, and putting out one hand for support, stood with her black-gowned figure sketched slenderly against the whiteof the cabin wall, her eyes irresolute and distressed. 

"I must have time to think, " she begged. "Will you leave me?" Von Ritzbowed and retired. 

She dropped exhaustedly into the chair again and for a long while satsilent. Finally she turned toward the man who, kneeling by her side, waited for her decision through what seemed decades of suspense, and herhands went out gropingly again toward him. 

"Dear, " she said in a voice hardly more than a whisper, "whatever Ido--whatever I decide--always and always I love you!" Impulsively herfingers clutched at his, which rested clenched on her arm-chair. 

"You must go!" she said, after a long while. "With you here there isnothing else in the world. I can see only you. " With a catch in hervoice she rushed on. "You must not only go, but I must not know whereyou go. I must not be able to call you back. You must give me your wordof honor. "

He attempted to speak, but she tightened her hold on his hands and herhurried utterance checked his words. 

"No!" she said. "Listen! This time I decide forever. I must decidealone. You must not only be out of my sight, but beyond recall. Threemonths from to-day I shall write to you, but until then I must not knowyour address. Three months from to-day you may be at 'Idle Times, ' whereI first told you I loved you ... Where we told each other ... If youstill wish to be. Then, if I decide that I am free, you will find myletter there. If I'm not free, I had better not even write. I couldn'twrite without calling you back. If I have to decide that way--" Shebroke off with a shudder. "Oh, you must go--Dear!--you must goquickly--! It is the only way you can help me. "

A half-hour later, Benton turned to the approaching Von Ritz. 

"Colonel, " he said steadily, "I sail for San Francisco by way of Suezfrom the first port we reach. You will favor me by accepting the _Isis_as long as Her Majesty can use it. "

Von Ritz met his eyes in silence and held out his hand. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

JUSSERET MAKES A REPORT

In Paris a small party of gentlemen, among whom were represented all thenational types of Southern Europe, were engaged in an informaldiscussion of very formal affairs. They occupied a private suite in theHotel Ritz overlooking the column of the _Place Vendome_. Upon a tableswept clean of draperies and bric-a-brac lay an outstretched map of theMediterranean littoral, whereon a small peninsula had been marked withcertain experimental and revised boundaries in red and blue and black. The atmosphere was thick with the smoke from cigars and cigarettes, andthrough the veneering amenities of much courtesy the gentlemen ofEurope's _Cabinets Noirs_ wrangled with insistence. Finally MonsieurJusseret took the floor, and the others dropped respectfully into anattitude of listening. 

"It is hardly necessary, " he began, "to discuss what has been done inGalavia. That is long since a stale story. Our governments, acting inconcert, made it possible to remove Karyl and crown Louis. " He smiledquietly. "You know how short a reign Louis enjoyed before death claimedhim. Perhaps you do not know that his death was not unforeseen by me. "

There was an outburst of exclamations under which France'srepresentative remained unmoved. 

"Our object, " he explained coldly, "was the disruption of Galavia'sintegrity. In reducing this Kingdom to a province, the supplanting ofKaryl with Louis was essential only as an initial step. The instabilityof that government had to be demonstrated to the world by morecontinuous disorders. It was necessary to show that the Kingdom hadbecome incapable of self-rule. It followed that the removal of Louis wasequally natural--and imperative. "

Don Alphonso Rodriguez, bearing the secret credentials of Spain, came tohis feet with the hauteur of offended dignity. 

"My government" he said, with austere deliberation, "had the right toknow what matters were being transacted. France appears to have assumedexclusive control. Is it too late to inquire of France"--he bent achilling frown upon the smiling Jusseret--"what she now purposes? Itappears that Spain knew no more than the newspapers. Spain also believedthat Louis died by his own hand, and artlessly assumed the motive ofdisappointment in his love for Marie Astaride. We believed we were beingfrankly informed. "

The more accomplished diplomat lifted brows and hands in a deprecatinggesture. "_Mon ami_, " he responded with suavity, "you flatter me. What Ihave done is nothing. I have only paved the way. Quite possibly Louisdid kill himself. If so it was a meritorious act, but whether he did soor whether some mad young officer, infatuated and jealous, was the realauthor of the result, the result stands--and meets our requirements. France does not care what flag flies over the Governor-General's Palacein Puntal, provided it be the flag of a nation in concert with France. France suggests that the Governor-General should be a Galavian, andpoints to the one man conspicuously capable--who happens to be, " headded with an amused laugh, "my particular enemy. "

"You mean Von Ritz?" The question came from Italy's delegate. 

Jusseret bowed his head. "Von Ritz, " he affirmed. 

Don Alphonso Rodriguez laughed with a note of incredulity. "And how doyou propose, " he demanded, "to persuade this loyal adviser of Karyl toaccept a deputyship at the hands of Karyl's enemies?"

Again Jusseret smiled. "It will be Von Ritz or a foreigner, " heexplained. "We must convince him that his beloved Kingdom can henceforthbe only a province in any event--that it may prosper under his guidanceor suffer under a more oppressive hand. That done, his patriotism willprove our ally. We have only to convince him that no member of Karyl'shouse can reign and live--and that it must be himself or an alien. "

"It would have been as easy, " demurred the Portuguese delegate, "to havepersuaded Von Ritz that Karyl himself should abdicate. "

Jusseret felt the hostility of the other members. In spite of therealization, or perhaps because of it, he glanced from face to face withunruffled urbanity. 

"_Messieurs_, " he suggested, "you overlook the hypotheses--and inreaching conclusions hypotheses are serviceable. You, gentlemen, " hecontinued blandly, "regarded the initial steps as impracticable. What Ivolunteered to do, I have so far done. We have one object. The insatiateambition of that nation, which we need not name, must not gainadditional Mediterranean foothold. Spain or Portugal, it is one to us, may decide the matter of suzerainty between themselves. "

"How do you mean to persuade Von Ritz?" insisted Don Alphonso. 

"In the young Queen, who is the sole eligible candidate for the Throne, we have at heart an unwilling heir. Von Ritz distrusts France. Let thesuggestion come from Portugal, a friend who can speak persuasively--andconvincingly. Let him see the inevitable result unless he consents. Letall which we have done be denounced. Lead him to believe that he holdsas steward"--Jusseret raised his hands as he concluded--"for Karyl'sheir, if there should be one. These things are mere details. "

 * * * * *

Benton worked his way slowly to San Francisco through the Far East. Itis not difficult to avoid newspapers between Ismaïlia and Manila, andwith the dogged determination to let the day set by Cara answer allquestions of his future, he had neither sought nor received tidings fromGalavia. 

He had not permitted himself great indulgence in hope. The past monthshad brought too many disappointments, and he knew that they had all beenbut episodes leading up to the climax which must come with the day whenhe inquired for a letter at "Idle Times. "

He dreaded a return to "Idle Times" before the day set for his inquiry. Bristow's place stood for too much of memory, and the inevitablequestions of his friend loomed before him, as the trifle which a man whohas stood much more than trifles cannot bring himself to face. Yet therewas no danger of his being late. That time was the one fixed point onthe calendar of his future. One day before his three months had come toan end, he arrived, but he did not go to Van Bristow's house. He didnot announce his coming. He went by the less frequented streets of thenear-by village to its inadequate hotel, where he found only a drummerfor a New York shoe house and a gentleman traveling "out of Chicago"with samples of ready-made clothing. 

For a time he sat in the dingy parlor of the place and listened to thejarring talk of the commercial travelers. Already Galavia and the monthswhich had been, seemed receding into an improbable dream, but the miseryof their bequeathing was poignantly real. 

He rose impatiently and made his way to the livery-stable, where hehired a saddle horse. His idea was merely to be alone. The reins hung onthe neck of his spiritless mount and the roads he went were the roads ittook of its own unguided selection. 

Suddenly Benton looked up. He was in a lane between overarching trees; alane which he remembered. Off to the side were the hills bristling withpines, raised against the sky like the lances of marching troops. It wasthe road he had ridden with her on that day when her horse fell at thefence--and there, on the side of the hill, stood a dilapidated cabin:the cabin upon whose porch he had poured water over her hands from agourd dipper. 

It was only the end of September, but an early frost had flushed thewoods and hillsides into a hint of the crimson and gold they were soonto wear in more profligate splendor. The fragrant, blue mist of woodsmoke drifted over the fields at the foot of the knobs. The hills wereseen through a wash of purple. From somewhere to the far left driftedthe mellowed music of fox-hounds. Riding slowly, the man came at lengthto the cabin gate. 

The same farmer sat as indolently now as then, on the top step. Thesetter dog started up to growl as the horseman dismounted. 

The man did not recognize him, but the proffer of Benton's cigar-caseproved a sufficient credential, and a discussion of the weather appeareda satisfactory reason for remaining. It was only a verbal and logicalstep from weather to crops, and in ten minutes the visitor was beingshown over the place. When the round of cribs and stables was completedit was time for the host to feed his stock, and, saying good-by at thebarn, he left Benton to make his way alone to the cabin. Passing throughthe house from the back, the man halted suddenly and with abruptwonderment at the front door. 

For upright and slim, with a small gauntleted hand resting on one of therude posts of the porch, gazing off intently into the coloring west, stood an unmistakable figure in a black riding habit. Incredulous, suddenly stunned under the cumulative suspense of the past threemonths, he stood hesitant. Then the figure slowly turned and, as the oldheart-breaking, heart-recompensing smile came to her lips and eyes, thegirl silently held out both arms to him. 

Finally he found time to ask: "How long have you been here?"

"Six weeks, " she answered. "And it's been lonesome. "

"Your answer, Cara, " he whispered. "What is your answer?"

"I am here, " she said. "Don't you see me? I'm the answer. "

 THE END

 * * * * *

 BIOGRAPHIES

 * * * * *

 TWO POPULAR AUTHORS

 &

 SOMETHING ABOUT THEM

 * * * * *

[Illustration: Charles Neville Buck]

CHARLES NEVILLE BUCK

Though still a young man--he has only just passed his thirtiethyear--Charles Neville Buck, the author of "The Lighted Match, " hastravelled far and done much. Although it was as late as January, 1909, that he first settled down to write for the magazines, he has madealready an established reputation as a short story writer, and promisesto make an even greater name as a novelist. His first novel, "The Key toYesterday, " was one of the successes of the last publishing season, andwe shall be greatly surprised if "The Lighted Match" does not provestill more popular. 

Born in Louisville, Ky. , he visited South America with his father, theHon. C. W. Buck, United States Minister to Peru. Since then he hastravelled in Europe, covering the ground where he places the scenes in"The Key to Yesterday" and "The Lighted Match. "

After graduation, Mr. Buck studied art, and for a year was the chiefcartoonist on Louisville's leading daily paper. He then turned toeditorial and reportorial work, which brought him into close contactwith Kentucky politics and the mountain feuds. In 1902, while still areporter, he was admitted to the Bar, but never practised. 

Successful as he is at the short story, it is in the novel that Mr. Buckdoes his finest work. The novel rather than the short story gives scopefor those little touches which make for style and atmosphere, and it isat these that Mr. Buck peculiarly excels. The vivid interest of hisplots is apt to blind the reader to this merit, for Mr. Buck's novelshave what some consider the only virtue of a novel, that they can beread for the story alone; but it is there, nevertheless, and for someconstitutes the greatest charm of his work. In "The Lighted Match, " evenmore than in "The Key to Yesterday, " is this artistic finish noticeable. "The Lighted Match" is not only a bully good story, it is literature aswell. 

[Illustration: P. G. Wodehouse]

PELHAM GRANVILLE WODEHOUSE

During the past year a phrase has been frequently heard among magazineand book men in New York when the name of Pelham Granville Wodehouse hasbeen mentioned. This phrase is "the logical successor to O. Henry"--andit is misleading. Any humorist who tried to follow in the tracks of O. Henry would be merely an imitator and the task would be as unwise asthough O. Henry had cramped his own freedom in an effort to walk in thefootprints of Mark Twain or any other predecessor in the field of humor. 

Wodehouse suggests O. Henry only in that he has suddenly come intouniversal recognition as a remarkable humorist. He wields a pen whichcommands an uncommon power of satire, without the suggestion of vitriolor bitterness. His humor has a sparkle, effervescence and spontaneitywhich has put him in an incredibly short time in the front rank ofwriters, and since the materialistic barometer at least records theopinion of the editors and since the editors are supposed to know, hasbrought him into that envied coterie whose rate per word in themagazines has soared skyward. 

P. G. Wodehouse was born in Guildford, England, in 1881, and while stillan infant he accompanied his parents to Hong Kong, where the elderWodehouse was a judge. He is a cousin of the Earl of Kimberley. In hisschool days he went in for cricket, football and boxing, and made forhimself a reputation in athletics. 

For two years Mr. Wodehouse went into a London bank and observed thepassing parade from a high stool, but this was not quite in keeping withhis tastes, and we find him next publishing a column of humorousparagraphs in the _London Globe_, under the head of "By the Way. " Laterhe assumed the editorship of this department, and many of his paragraphslived longer than the few hours' existence of most newspaper humor. Alsosince all writers experimentally venture into the dramatic, he wroteseveral vaudeville sketches which have had popular English productions. 

Three years ago P. G. Wodehouse came to New York. He liked the Americanfield and wanted to see whether his humor would strike the Americanfancy. It struck. Mr. Wodehouse had tried his wings here only a fewmonths when magazine editors were bidding for his manuscripts. Hisshort stories have appeared generally in the magazines, and while oneoften finds the delightful touch of pathos, there is always an abundanceof laughter. In _Cosmopolitan, Collier's Weekly, Ainslee's_, and manyother publications these stories appear as often as Mr. Wodehouse willcontribute. 

His novel, "The Intrusion of Jimmy, " last year was a decided success. Init Mr. Wodehouse demonstrated his ability to hold his sprinting speedover a Marathon distance. The book, after giving the flattering returnsof a large sale, found its second production on the stage. In itsdramatized version with the title, "A Gentleman of Leisure, " it has hadits tryout on the road and has proven a success. With Douglas Fairbanksin the leading rôle, it will be one of next Fall's elaborate productionson Broadway. 

In personality Mr. Wodehouse is quite as interesting as one might gatherfrom his writings. Physically a man of splendid proportions and mentallya fountain of spirited humor, he is, nevertheless, modest to the pointusually termed "retiring, " and is well known only after longacquaintanceship. He is fond of all sports, and on reaching Americabecame truly the native in his enthusiasm for baseball. Mr. Wodehousesays that one epoch of his literary career dates from his purchase of anautomobile in 1907. The purchase was an investment of considerablegravity to a young writer just commencing to command an entree. Theautomobile lasted some two weeks and came to a violent end against atelephone pole. Mr. Wodehouse thought out the major problems of lifesitting on the turf near the pole from a more or less lacerated point ofview. He decided, among other things, that his _forte_ was ratherwriting about motors than riding about _in_ motors. 

Mr. Wodehouse's second novel will be an even greater success than "TheIntrusion of Jimmy. " Mr. Wodehouse spent last winter on the Rivierawriting this book, and his friends who have read the advance pages, agree with the publishers that it will deserve and receive even greatercordiality than the first. The title will be "The Prince and Betty, " andit will be something for novel readers to look forward to.