asleep. Oh, the shame of it! The
shame of it! A thousand curses upon a tipple that caused such woe! May
eternal perdition be the portion of the giver!

"'Strong arms enfolded me when I came to my senses. My Benneville, I was
sure of it!

"Darling," I murmured, still feeling strangely, "I have come to you.
Yes, out of the storm have I come to you! Like a weary, drenched bird, I
seek rest in thy dear arms! Kiss me, my dearest, kiss me!"

"'He kissed me again and again ... How can I go on?... There was a sound
of smothered laughter--the irritating laugh of a woman I hated.... His
face was close to mine.... I opened my eyes.... Oh, God! It was the
King!

"'In my rage and confusion I flung him from me, and fell, half-fainting,
to the floor. Then I heard my Lord Benneville say brokenly, as one
crushed by awful trouble, "Your Majesty is right. I pray you forgive my
harsh words of yesterday. Fool, fool that I am to have been so tricked!
O my Liege, my Liege, death would have been far preferable to this!" And
then my dear Lord, sobbing, went out into the gray dawn, and out of my
life forever!

* * * * *

"'They took me from the King's chamber, and revived by the sharp air in
the street I managed to grope my way to my father's house. To _him_ I
told nothing, for he was proud of me, and should I have killed him? Yet
he was much perplexed at my determination, for I never showed my face at
court again!'

"My relative's voice, growing weaker every moment, flickered and died
out in a hissing whisper just as the silver chime over the mantel
proclaimed that her time was up. Then I must have awakened.

"It may have been a dream, but so impressed was I by the old lady's
story that all the rest of the week I searched for further light upon
it. Into old carven chests I dived, opening package after package of
mouldy papers. In the attic trunks and boxes were rifled, until at last,
about to give up in despair, I found in an old desk a letter. It was in
French with the Benneville crest and seal, brown with age, and by no
means easy to decipher. The place of writing, and the date, quite beyond
human ken, so frayed and stained was the upper margin. Freely
translated, the letter read:

"'My Dear Old Bobby:

"'Here we are, safe and sound. And what can I say to you, friend of
friends? This last scrape was the worst of all; was it not? Worse
by far than the affairs with the little Itali