can's cunning, and he did not doubt but that she
still persisted in his innocence. He might speak further of the fellow's
part in the ambush and murder of Captain Maurel near Tampico, but he
confessed that that required further investigation.

No one could say that Maximilian had so much as listened. Such tangles
had long since become irksome, though he never ceased plunging into the
mesh. To unravel details, and incidentally confuse them more, was a
notorious mania with the poet-prince. But his thoughts now were all for
a girl who had fainted. Murguia he would leave to a court martial. If
guilty, the medal should be torn from his breast. Don Anastasio's
terrors, however, ran on the other penalties of court martial.

"Now you," Maximilian turned to the American, "I understand that you
wish to see me. But you must know that law prevails in Mexico at last,
and that even the Emperor may not keep a man from trial."

Driscoll's chin lifted eagerly. "Certainly not, but my business with
you, sir----"

"Not 'sir,'" whispered Jacqueline. "You must call him 'sire.'" Little
she cared for etiquette, but she did not propose that Driscoll should
broach his errand.

Maximilian overheard and smiled. "Yes," he said, "one tiny letter added,
and you change a man into a sovereign."

Now Jacqueline, for her purposes, had thought to disconcert the man
unused to courts. But it struck her at once that nothing of the kind
would happen. His easy naturalness was too much a part of him, was the
man himself. And she was glad of it. She was glad of the something
distinguished which his earnestness gave to the clean-cut stamp of jaw
and forehead. He had stopped and looked at them inquiringly, as an eager
speaker will when interrupted. Then his brown eyes deepened, and there
was a tugging at the corners of his mouth. He seemed to comprehend. If
this was their humor, he would play to it. A diplomat must be all things
to the people he is after.

"'Sire?' W'y," and his drawl was exquisite, "that's what we call the
daddy of a horse."

Jacqueline turned quickly, clapping her hand over her mouth. Maximilian
was always uneasy when Jacqueline did that.

"To be sure," he observed affably, "our American friend is not so far
wrong. Listen, am I not the father of my people?"

The entourage buzzed admiringly at the imperial cleverness; all except
Jacqueline, who now that she should laugh and relieve the situation,
obstinately pulled a long, blank face.