swiftly conceived, so cunningly devised that I would I were twenty years younger, to fight it with you! But I am old. My days for acting are past. I can only advise. He was sure of his quarry, this Josef whose hair is of many colors. Had you applied to the money syndicates of Europe, the banks of England, France, Germany, or Austria, your true sponsor, the result would always be the same: your ruin. Covertly I warned you not to sign; you laughed and signed. A trap was there, your own hand opened it. How they must have laughed at you! If you attempt to repudiate your signature the Diet has power to overrule you.

"Truly, the shade of Macchiavelli masks in the garb of your cousin. I admire the man's genius. This is his throne by right of inheritance. I do not blame him. Only, I wish to save you. If you were alone, why, I do not say that I should trouble myself, for you yourself would not be troubled. But I have grown to love that child of yours. It is all for her. Do you now understand why I make the request? It appears Quixotic? Not at all. Put my money in jeopardy? Not while the kingdom exists. If you can not pay back, your kingdom will. Perhaps you ask what is the difference, whether I or the duke becomes your creditor? This: in ten years I shall be happy to renew the loan. In ten years, if I am gone, there will be my son. You wonder why I do this. I repeat it is for your daughter. And perhaps," with a dry smile, "it is because I have no love for Josef."

"I will defeat him!" cried the king, a fire at last shining in his eyes.

"You will not."

"I will appeal to the confederation and inform them of the plot."

"The resource of a child! They would laugh at you for your pains. For they are too proud of their prowess in statecraft to tolerate a suspicion that your cousin is a cleverer man than all of them put together. There remains only one thing for you to do."

"And what is that?" wearily.

"Accept my friendship at its true value."

The king made no reply. He set his elbows on the arms of the rustic seat, interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on them, while his booted legs slid out before him. His meditation lengthened into several minutes. The diplomat evinced no sign of impatience.

"Come with me," said the king, rising quickly. "I will no longer dream. I will act. Come."

The diplomat nodded approvingly; and together they marched toward the palace. The bulldog trotted on behind, his pink tongue lolling out of his black mouth, a white tusk or two gleaming on each side. The Lieutenant of the cuirassiers saluted as they passed him, and, when they had gone some distance, swung in behind. He observed with some concern that his Majesty was much agitated.

The business of the kingdom, save that performed in the Diet, was accomplished in the east wing of the palace; the king's apartments, aside from the state rooms, occupied the west wing. It was to the business section that the king conducted the diplomat. In the chamber of finance its minister was found busy at his desk. He glanced up casually, but gave an ejaculation of surprise when he perceived who his visitors were.

"O, your Majesty!" he cried, bobbing up and running out his chair. "Good afternoon, your Excellency," to the Englishman, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses, through which his eyes shone pale and cold.

The diplomat bowed. The little man reminded him of M. Thiers, that effervescence of soda tinctured with the bitterness of iron. He understood the distrust which Count von Wallenstein entertained for him, but he was not distrustful of the count. Distrust implies uncertainty, and the Englishman was not the least uncertain as to his conception of this gentleman of finance.

There were few men whom the count could not interpret; one stood before him. He could not comprehend why England had sent so astute a diplomat and politician to a third-rate kingdom. Of that which we can not understand we are suspicious, and the guilty are distrustful. Neither the minister of police nor his subordinates could fathom the purpose of this calm, dignified old man with the difficult English name.

"Count," began the king, pleasantly, "his Excellency here has made a peculiar request."

"And what might that be, Sire?"

"He offers to purchase the entire number of certificates issued to-day for our loan."

"Five millions of crowns?" The minister's astonishment was so genuine that in jerking back his head his glasses slipped from his nose and dangled on the string.

The Englishman bowed again, the wrinkle of a smile on his face.

"I would not believe him serious at first, count," said the king, laughing easily, "but he assured me that he is. What can be done about it?"

"O, your Majesty," cried the minister, excitedly, "it would not be politic. And then the measure—"

"Is it possible that I have misconstrued its import?" the diplomat interposed with a fine air of surprise.

"You are familiar—" began the count, hesitatingly.

"Perfectly; that is, I believe so."

"But England—"

"Has nothing whatever to do with the matter. Something greater, which goes by the name of self-interest."

"Ah," said the count, his wrinkles relaxing; "then it is on your own responsibility?"

"Precisely."

"But five millions of crowns—two hundred and fifty thousand pounds!" The minister could not compose himself. "This is a vast sum of money. We expected not an individual, but a syndicate, to accept our securities, to become debtors to the various banks on the continent. But a personal affair! Five millions of crowns! The possibilities of your wealth overwhelm me."

The Englishman smiled. "I dare say I have more than my share of this world's goods. I can give you a check for the amount on the bank of England."

"Your Majesty's lamented predecessor—"

"Is dead," said the king gently. He had no desire to hear the minister recount that ruler's virtues. "Peace to his ashes."

"Five millions of crowns!" The minister had lost his equipoise in the face of the Englishman's great riches, of which hitherto he had held some doubts. Suddenly a vivid thought entered his confused brain. The paper cutter in his hand trembled. In the breathing space allowed him he began to calculate rapidly. The king and the diplomat had been in the garden; something had passed between them. What? The paper cutter slowly ceased its uneven movements. The count calmly placed it behind the inkwells. .... The Englishman knew. The glitter of gold gave way to the thought of the peril. A chasm yawned at his feet. But he was an old soldier in the game of words and cross-purposes.

"We should be happy to accord you the privilege of becoming the kingdom's creditor," he said, smiling at the diplomat, whom nothing had escaped. "I am afraid, however, that your request has been submitted too late. At ten o'clock this morning the transfer of the certificates would have been a simple matter. There are twenty in all; it may not be too late to secure some of them." He looked tranquilly from the Englishman to the king.

The smiling mask fell from the king's face; he felt that he was lost. He tried to catch his friend's eye, but the diplomat was deeply interested in the console of the fireplace.

"They seem to be at a premium," the Englishman said, "which speaks well for the prosperity of the country. I am sorry to have troubled you."

"It would have been a pleasure indeed," replied the count. He stood secure within his fortress, so secure that he would have liked to laugh.

"It is too bad," said the king, pulling his thoughts together.

"Your Majesty is giving the matter too much importance," said the diplomat. "It was merely a whim. I shall have the pleasure and honor of presenting my successor this evening."

The count bent low, while the king nodded absently. He was thinking that a penful of ink, carelessly trailed over a sheet of paper, had lost him his throne. He was about to draw the arm of the diplomat through his own,