the
table; the Dictator opened his and glanced at it and handed it over to
Hamilton, who, for his part, had had a telegram all to himself. Rivers
studied Ericson's face, and felt convinced that the very
imperturbability of its expression was put on in order that no one might
suppose he had learned anything of importance. It was quite different
with Hamilton--a light of excitement flashed across him for a moment and
was then suddenly extinguished. 'News from Gloria, no doubt,' Rivers
thought to himself. 'Bad news, I hope.'

'Does anyone want to reply to his telegrams?' Sir Rupert courteously
asked. 'They are kind enough to keep the telegraph office open for my
benefit until midnight.'

No one seemed to think there was any necessity for troubling the
telegraph office just then.

'Shall we go upstairs?' Sir Rupert asked. So the gentlemen went
upstairs, and on their appearance the conversation between Dolores and
Mrs. Sarrasin came to an end, as we know.

Soame Rivers went into his own little study, which was kept always for
him, and there he opened his despatch. It was from a man in the Foreign
Office who was in the innermost councils of Sir Rupert and himself.

'Tell Hamilton look quietly after Ericson. Certain information of
dangerous plot against Ericson's life. Danger where least expected. Do
not know any more. No need as yet alarm Sir Rupert.'

Soame Rivers read the despatch over and over again. It was in cypher--a
cypher with which he was perfectly familiar. He grumbled and growled
over it. It vexed him. For various reasons he had come to the conclusion
that a great deal too much work was made over the ex-Dictator, and his
projects, and his personal safety.

'All stuff and nonsense!' he said to himself. 'It's absurd to make such
a fuss about this fellow. Nobody can think him important enough to get
up any plot for killing him; as far as I am concerned I don't see why
they shouldn't kill him if they feel at all like it--personally, I am
sure I wish they _would_ kill him.'

Soame Rivers thought to himself, although he hardly put the thought into
words even to himself and for his own benefit, that he might have had a
good chance of winning Helena Langley to be his wife--of having her and
her fortune--only for this so-called Dictator, whom, as a Briton, he
heartily despised.

'I'll think it over,' he said to himself; 'I need not show this
danger-signal to Hamilton just yet. Hamilton is a hero-worshipper and a