o weeks had passed since the tragedy in Stamboul, and the _Isis_
cruised aimlessly westward. The Mediterranean stretched to the horizon,
so placid that the froth from the wake washed languidly, almost
lifelessly, on the surface, and a single cloud hung stationary in the
softer blue of the sky. Wrapped in a steamer rug, her figure, more
slender in the simple lines of her black gown, Cara sat gazing toward
the receding coast-line of Malta. So she had spent most of the hours
since they had weighed anchor at Constantinople. On the deck at her feet
sat Benton.

At Piraeus Von Ritz had secured a copy of the _Figaro_ several days old,
and the men had read its report of the Regency of Louis in Puntal. Then
the yacht had called at Malta where the gray fortresses of Valetta frown
out to sea, and Von Ritz had once more gone in quest of news.

That had been yesterday. By common consent the two men refrained from
allusions to State matters in the girl's presence. Now the former
adviser of the King uneasily paced the deck. Over his usually
sphinx-like face brooded the troubled expression of one who confronts an
unwelcome necessity. Suddenly he halted before the girl's deck-chair,
and, schooling his voice with an apparent effort, spoke in his old-time
even modulation, but for once he found it difficult to meet the eyes of
the person he addressed.

"We have heretofore not spoken of things which we would all give many
years of life to forget," he began. Then he added with feeling: "Only
the sternest necessity could force me to do so now."

As he paused for permission to continue, the girl raised her eyes with a
sad smile that had grown habitual.

"I have come," said Von Ritz, "to stand for an implacable Nemesis to
you, and yet I should wish to be identified only with happiness in your
thoughts. To me one thing always comes first. The House of Galavia is my
gospel; has been my gospel since Karyl's father mounted its throne." He
paused and added gravely: "Louis Delgado has reaped his reward--he is
dead."

Benton's voice broke out in an explosive "Thank God!"

Von Ritz stood a moment silent, then, dropping to one knee, he took the
fingers which fell listlessly over the arm of Cara's steamer-chair and
raised them to his lips.

"Your Majesty is Queen of Galavia."

The American came to his feet, his hands clenched, but with quick
self-mastery he stood back, breathing heavily.

Cara sat for a moment only half-comprehending, then wi