nd it is the only
lever by means of which I can gain what I desire. I never forget that
the country over which my father rules was once an absolute kingdom, and
semi-Royalty does not appeal to me. The betrothal of my daughter
Adelaide to Ferdinand of Saxonia was of my planning entirely. The dowry
required by the Council of Saxonia is so large that it could not
possibly be paid if any portion of my father's fortune, great though it
is, is diverted towards Isobel. Hence my desire to keep Isobel and her
grandfather apart."

"Madame," I said, "you are candour itself. I can only regret that it is
my hard fate to oppose such admirable plans."

"I have been given to understand," the Archduchess said, "that it is now
your intention to take Isobel yourself to Illghera!"

"The tickets," I murmured, "are in my pocket."

Madame bowed.

"Well," she said, "I have seen and heard enough of you to make no
further effort to thwart or even to influence you. Yet I have a
proposition to make. First of all, consider these things. If we come to
no arrangement with each other I shall use every means I can to prevent
your obtaining an interview with my father. Everything is in my favour.
He is very old, he has a hatred of strangers, he grants audiences to no
one. He never passes outside the grounds of the villa, and all the gates
are guarded by sentries, who admit no one save those who have the
entree. Then, if you attempt to approach him by correspondence, his
private secretary, who opens every letter, is one of my own appointing.
I have exaggerated none of these things. It will be difficult for you to
approach the King. You may succeed--you seem to have the knack of
success--but it will take time. Isobel's re-appearance will be without
dignity, and open to many remarks for various reasons. You may even fail
to convince my father, and if you failed the first time there would be
no second opportunity."

"What you say, Madame," I admitted, "is reasonable. I have never assumed
that as yet my task is completed. I recognize fully the difficulties
that are still before me."

"You have common-sense, Mr. Greatson, I am glad to see," she continued.
"I am the more inclined to hope that you will accede to my proposition.
Briefly, it is this! Let me have the credit of bringing Isobel to her
grandfather. Her year in London would at all times, in these days of
scandal, be a somewhat delicate matter to publish. What you have done,
you have done, as