" said
Felix genially, and the sound of his voice drove some of the misery from
the waiter's pallid cheeks.

"It was my fault, monsieur. I ran so fast that I lost my breath and the
gentleman could not understand me."

"Ah, is that it? Did you speak Polish?"

"No, no, monsieur. I always speak Serbian here."

"And what did you say?"

"Just what you told me to say,--that the King was in danger and that the
President was to send troops instantly to the Fuerst Michaelstrasse. Then
the old gentleman, he whom they call Prince Michael, came up and said he
did not believe a word of it."

"Mon Dieu! He understood you, it appears?"

"Perhaps not, monsieur. I made a hash of it, especially when I told him
Monsieur Poluski sent me."

"Sure you mentioned that?"

"Quite sure, monsieur. It was then he ordered me inside the house. The
mention of your name seemed to annoy him. For a little while he could
say nothing but 'Poluski, Poluski! Is he in it?' I swore you had nothing
to do with the plot, monsieur, but had acted throughout as the King's
friend; then he stormed at me again, and called me a blockhead for
coming to the palace with such a mad story. He asked me what I thought
would have been the consequence if the Princess heard me, and I said I
knew nothing about any Princess; I was only quite sure the King would be
slain if some one did not hasten to his rescue."

"But some one had more sense, some one listened?" said Felix dryly.

"Ah, yes. When the President came down the stairs, Prince Michael went
to meet him, laughing all the time at my romancing, as he called it. But
I shouted out, being quite desperate then, and Monsieur Nesimir heard
me. Of course, by that time, I was in such a state that my knees shook.
I was certain the King would be found dead, and perhaps you, monsieur,
and then would there be no one to prove that I was not mixed up in the
affair, so people would think I ran to the palace in order to save my
own skin. I nearly dropped with fear, feeling that so many minutes were
being lost, and that made me more nervous than ever when I was
answering Monsieur Nesimir's questions."

Poluski's worn face exhibited no more emotion than if he was a graven
image, but his voice was sympathetic. "At any rate, everything has ended
happily, friend John," said he. "The King is alive, you did your duty,
and you will find him not unmindful of your services. By whose order are
you detained here?"

The excited waiter b