irring courtship of
Fraeulein Elsa.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE IMPERIAL SECRET SERVICE

After New Year he had organized a little informal dancing club among
the Americans. He called it the Cinderella Cotillion Coterie, in
alliterative compliment to the daintiness of the ladies. He was the
self-constituted secretary and sole official.

For the birthday of the Father of our country he sent out to the
members a rollicking printed invitation reading:

In honor of our George's birthday, which comes as usual this
year on February the twenty-second, the inimitable CCCs will
hold one of their regular reunions in pumps, beginning
punctually at nine. Full beer orchestra as usual. No flowers or
singing of hymns.

By order

JAMES ALEXANDER DEMING, Sec., CCC.
R. S. V. P.--the Senate and the Roman People.

The notice at least gave evidence that Jim had been in Italy.

Several weeks after the pleasant event, when he had forgotten all
about it, he was loafing in his room one morning after breakfast,
smoking an eccentric pipe from his collection, and comforting
himself over his decision once more that German teachers and
grammars are a failure.

A thump was heard at his door. He called out _Herein!_ whereat a
person in uniform strode in and stuck into Deming's hands a majestic
communication from which he made out with some difficulty that he
was peremptorily ordered to appear at Police Headquarters at eleven
that forenoon. Fully conscious of the political innocence of his
conduct, he welcomed this new diversion and, humming the latest
opera bouffe air, he dressed in his best with a posy in his lapel.

His gay feelings were a little dampened at the Platz where he
encountered a massive solemnity and sullen looks as if he were an
arch criminal of State. A ponderous minor individual, not unarmed,
commanded him to be seated in front of his desk and, eying him
sternly, handed over one of Jim's invitations to the George
Washington party.

"Do you know of this?"

"Yes, sir," replied Jim, surprised that this harmless missive had
turned up among the Police, and wondering what it could all be
about.

"Have you authorization?"

"Authorization, sir?"

"What _is_ this?" roared the petty functionary.

"Why, nothing at all. It means dance--ball--a little dance we had."

"Dance--ball." The other repeated the words with a severity that
champed upon its bits. "Are y