hate the very sight of a wasp-waisted, self-sufficient Prussian subaltern. They're everywhere. Imperial arrogance seems to pervade even their beer gardens." His voice trailed off into silence again, as in a preoccupied manner his finger wandered over the map. It stopped suddenly as he leaned closer to study the pink plot on which it rested. "Krovitch; Krovitch!" he muttered, "now where the devil have I heard of Krovitch? Russian province it seems but that doesn't give me any clue. I'm stuck, Carrick," he said with a frank laugh as he looked up to meet the man's responsive smile.

"Can I 'elp you, sir?" He leaned over Carter's shoulder.

"What is there about that little spot to set me guessing?" His finger kept tapping the indicated locality perplexedly.

His man studied a moment as if some old memory were awakened. "Can't sye, sir; but wasn't Count Zulka, of the Racquet Club, from there, sir?" he hesitatingly suggested. "Seems as if I remember 'is man saying as much."

"Now we are getting at it, Carrick. Certainly. Zulka is a Krovitzer. Has a mediæval castle at Schallberg. Capital, I think it is. Saunderson the newspaper fellow let fall a hint that there was going to be a big fight over there. That was after Zulka went abroad so suddenly. They're going to try and restore the ancient monarchy or something. Hand me that volume of the Encyclopedia—'H-o-r' to 'L-i-b' I think will cover it. I'll look up Krovitch. Thanks," and he was soon deeply engrossed in the desired information.

A copy of the Almanac de Gotha lay at his hand. Having avidly absorbed the meagre narration of the country's history from the pages of the encyclopedia, his inquiring mind sought enlightenment as to the present personnel of the house who had ruled the ancient race.

The almanac disclosed no descendant of Stovik. Apparently the dynasty of which he was the head had ceased with his deposition. "Humph," he ejaculated, "here is something interesting. 'Sole descendant of Augustus. Girl, twenty-two, name—Trusia.' Pretty, poetical—Trusia! I like it. Seems to me I'll be repeating that name a good deal. I wonder what she's like."

He looked up again, his face glowing with enthusiasm. "Carrick," he said indignantly, "that country ought to be free. Russia stole it by a shabby trick. Two hundred years ago the reigning king of Krovitch was a chap called Stovik. The head of another royal family there named Augustus was his rival for the crown. Not being able to arouse much of a following among a loyal people, Augustus sought aid of his namesake, the Czar of Russia, to help in his contest. Knowing that Augustus would be easily disposed of once they got a foothold in Krovitch, the Russ, who had only been waiting for some such pretext, gladly espoused his cause and threw an army of veterans across the length and breadth of the devoted land. Stovik was deposed and Russia put her dupe upon the throne. Europe stood by and let that nation, which, single handed, had time and again saved them from Moslem invasions, be annexed by the government at Moscow. I'm going there. I'll look up Zulka and get him to have me counted in if there's any fight going to occur."

"And me too, sir," answered Carrick, standing like a stag who from a peak challenges his kind.

Carter looked at the man with evident appreciation and a pleased smile animated his face.

"It will be the old days over again. I warn you, Carrick, you'll have to hustle to beat me up another hill."

The Cockney laughed in the free masonry of their mutual reminiscences. "All right, sir, forewarned is forearmed. How soon do we start?"

"Just as soon as you can get our camp kits ready. We'll board the next steamer for Danzig. I think I'll take the big auto along, too. It may come in handy."

III

A DUEL—OF WITS

Russian affairs had reached the climax anticipated by the world as the result of her persistent encroachments in the Orient.

Precipitated by a fiery aggression from Nippon the gasping Slav had been pushed back across the Yalu. His ships around Port Arthur had been crippled and destroyed. The astonished nations, Russia included, awoke to a grim realization of war.

Not only the home staying Japanese, but millions of Russian subjects joined in the universal acclaim that hailed these first victories of the war, presaging that the Banners of the Rising Sun were well able to cope with the armed hordes which held Manchuria in the name of the Great White Czar.

First grumbling murmurs, next spasmodic disturbances defying police discipline, afterward outbreaks of thousands of workmen even in the larger cities, followed by armed and desperate uprisings in different provinces, demonstrated with seismic violence that an appreciable portion of domestic sympathy was with the enemies of the Empire.

The autocracy had been feared only while it had been able to assert universal invincibility.

Plots and counterplots added to the general uneasiness; failing to soothe them, more than one minister had been dismissed in disgrace.

In the Imperial Palace a war conference had been called with reference to a new and startling development. A map lay spread upon the table. A white-haired grand duke arose and placed a finger on the spot indicating the Russian capital.

"Here is St. Petersburg," he said dogmatically, "while away off here is Krovitch just across a little river from Germany and Austria. While those greedy neighbors may be held back now, you could not restrain them a moment after revolt broke out in that border province. For two centuries those Krovitzers have been a defiant and stiff-necked race in spite of every corrective measure adopted to suppress them. Unless immediate action is taken to anticipate and abort any movement of theirs, it may mean the utter destruction of your present southern frontiers. I am convinced that they will take advantage of the present disturbances to attempt their independence."

A wan and tolerant smile on the imperial countenance apprised him his appeal had been in vain. A suppressed buzz of incredulity brought a flush of resentment to his cheek.

"We are not ungrateful for your loyal advice, Your Grace, and will give it our future consideration." This imperial acknowledgment dismissed a matter which apparently was promptly forgotten in the discussion of events in Manchuria. But the apparition of Krovitch, in arms, would not so easily down in the minds of the thoughtful present, even though an autocrat had dismissed the notion as frivolous.

Never having been kind, now was the moment when the least sign of relaxation would be interpreted by the watchful millions as an evidence of weakness. Therefore the blows of the knout should be redoubled and prisons be enlarged the better to maintain hierarchical supremacy.

Provinces, conquered and made subject by the ancient strength of Russian arms, were becoming restless. Whispers of what a year earlier would have been avoided by the many in terror were now changed into shouts of defiance and publicly bruited in the daily papers. On all sides an oppressed country crouched tiger-like, ready for revolt should the whip be laid aside for even an instant.

Krovitch once having had a king, a patrie of her own, stubbornly and persistently kept alive her national feeling, language, and traditions in spite of imperial ukase. Naturally she caused considerable uneasiness among those who were the real rulers of Russia.

Persistent reports from their apprehensive agents alarmed those who, standing in