rs favored the adoption of
the King's proposal; but Stampoff scowled at them angrily and drowned
their timorous agreement by his resentful cry:

"God's bones! Why wait till to-morrow?"

Then, indeed, Alec was stung beyond endurance. "Perhaps, in the
circumstances, General," he said, "it would be advisable that you should
absent yourself from to-morrow's Council."

"Not while I am Minister for War!" came the fiery response.

"That is for you to decide," said the King.

"Then I decide now! I resign!"

"Excellent! By that means you salve your conscience; whereas I hope
still to retain the friendship of Kosnovia's most faithful son by
refusing to accept your resignation."

A shout of applause drowned Stampoff's vehement protest, and Alec seized
the opportunity to hurry from the Council chamber. He did not try to
conceal from himself the serious nature of this unexpected crisis,
though he was far from acknowledging that the people at large attached
such significance to his wife's nationality as Stampoff and the others
professed to believe. Puzzle his wits as he might, and did, he failed
utterly to account for Stampoff's uncompromising tone. The old Serb and
he were the best of friends. He had taken no single step without first
consulting the man who had been his political tutor since his boyhood.
Even when he ran counter to Stampoff's advice, he had always listened to
it eagerly, and he invariably took the utmost pains to show why he had
adopted another course.

Till that day there had never been the shadow of a breach between them.
How, then, was the War Minister's irreconcilable attitude to be
explained? Was Cousin Julius pulling the strings in some unrecognized
manner? Was Beliani a party to the scheme? These questions must be
answered, and speedily. Meanwhile, by hook or by crook, he must keep all
knowledge of the dispute from Joan's ears until after the wedding.

In the palace courtyard a man standing near the gates tried to pass the
sentries when the King arrived. He was instantly collared. Undersized,
poorly clad, and poverty stricken in appearance, he was hustled
unmercifully by a stalwart Albanian policeman until Alec's attention was
drawn to the scuffle.

A white despairing face became visible for a moment, and a choking voice
cried, "Save me, your Majesty! I am John Sobieski!"

"Sobieski!" thought Alec, ordering his carriage to stop and alighting
quickly. "That is the Polish hotel waiter of whom Felix