ritten manuscript, and by their side several
black-bound code books, upon which the "F.O.Private" still remained,
though almost obliterated with time. Lord Dorminster's occupation was
apparent. He was decoding a message of unusual length. Presently he
turned away from the table, however, and faced his nephew. His hands
travelled to his waistcoat pocket. He drew out a cigarette from a thin
gold case, lit it and began to smoke. Then he crossed his legs and
leaned a little farther back in his chair.

"Nigel," he said, "we are living in strange times."

"No one denies that, sir," was the grave assent.

Lord Dorminster glanced at the calendar which stood upon the desk.

"To-day," he continued, "is the twenty-third day of March, nineteen
hundred and thirty-four. Fifteen years ago that terrible Peace Treaty
was signed. Since then you know what the history of our country has
been. I am not blowing my own trumpet when I say that nearly every man
with true political insight has been cast adrift. At the present moment
the country is in the hands of a body of highly respectable and
well-meaning men who, as a parish council, might conduct the affairs of
Dorminster Town with unqualified success. As statesmen they do not
exist. It seems to me, Nigel, that you and I are going to see in reality
that spectre which terrified the world twenty years ago. We are going to
see the breaking up of a mighty empire."

"Tell me what has happened or is going to happen," Nigel begged.

"Well, for one thing," his uncle replied, "the Emperor of the East is
preparing for a visit to Europe. He will be here probably next month.
You know whom I mean, of course?"

"Prince Shan!" Nigel exclaimed.

"Prince Shan of China," Lord Dorminster assented. "His coming links up
many things which had been puzzling me. I tell you, Nigel, what happens
during Prince Shan's visit will probably decide the destinies of this
country, and yet I wouldn't mind betting you a thousand to one that
there isn't a single official of the Government who has the slightest
idea as to why he is coming, or that he is coming at all."

"Do you know?" Nigel asked.

"I can only surmise. Let us leave Prince Shan for the moment, Nigel. Now
listen. You go about a great deal. What do people say about
me--honestly, I mean? Speak with your face to the light."

"They call you a faddist and a scaremonger," Nigel confessed, "yet there
are one or two, especially at the St. Philip's Club, diplo