calle_
and return. The change of position will then be less noticeable. Also,
the _Senor's_ forehead is beaded with moisture. The air of the street
will be grateful."

As Benton rose he noticed that the Grand Duke was leaning confidentially
toward the member of the French _Cabinet Noir_.

Fifteen minutes later the two men were ensconced in their more sheltered
coign, with wine glasses before them, and all the seeming of idle hours
to kill.

"Is Louis ostensibly a friend of the throne?" demanded the American.

"Professedly, he is, _Senor_. He will write his felicitations when the
marriage and the crowning occur--he will even send suitable gifts, but
he will remain at his cafe here with his absinthe, or in Paris near the
fair Comptessa Astaride, whom he adores, unless, of course, he goes to
touch the match."

"Does he never return to Puntal?"

"Once in five years he has been there. Then he went quietly to his
hunting lodge which is ten miles, as the crow flies from the capital,
yet barred off by the mountain ridge. It is two days' journey by sea
from Puntal, and save by the sea one comes only through the mountain
pass, which is always guarded. Yet on that occasion heliographs reported
his movements; the King's escort was doubled and the King went little
abroad."

"Who stands at Louis' back? Revolutionists?"

"_Dios!_ No, _Senor_. The Galavians are cattle. Karyl or Louis, it is
one to them. Galavia is a key. The key cares not at what porter's belt
it jingles. Europe cares who opens and closes the lock. _Comprende?_
Spain cares, France cares, Italy cares, even the Northern nations care.
The movement of pawns affects castles and kings."

Manuel suddenly halted in his flow of talk. "Blessed Saints!" he
breathed softly. "When he comes nearer you will see him--the palms
obscure him now. It is Colonel Von Ritz. He has just entered. He stands
near Karyl and the throne. He is a great man wasted in a toy kingdom.
All Europe envies the services which Von Ritz squanders on Galavia."

Benton looked up with a rush of memories, and was glad that the Galavian
could not see him.

Like all the men concerned, Von Ritz was inconspicuously a civilian in
dress, but as he came down the center of the room he was, as always, the
commanding figure, challenging attention. His steady eyes swept the
place with dispassionate scrutiny. His straight mouth-line betrayed no
expression. He came slowly, idly, as though looking for someone. Whe