lip. "It was written nearly a quarter of a
century ago, by one--Theodomir of Houdania."

Diane glanced in utter mystification at Ronador's ashen face--there was
a great fear in his eyes--and thence to Baron Tregar.

"Excellency," she appealed, "it is all very hard to understand. Who is
Theodomir? And why must his life touch mine after all these years?"

The Baron cleared his throat.

"Let me try to make it simpler," he said gravely. "Theodomir, Miss
Westfall, was a lovable, willful, over-democratic young crown prince of
Houdania who, many years ago, refused the responsibilities of a royal
position whose pomp and pretensions he despised--quoting Buddha--and
fled to America where in the course of time he married, divorced his
wife and later died--incognito. He was Ronador's cousin, and his
flight shifted the regency of the kingdom to Ronador's father."

"Yes," said the girl steadily, "that is very clear."

"Theodomir married--and divorced--your mother," said Philip gently.

Diane grew very white.

"And even yet," she said bravely, "I--can not see why we must all be so
worked up. There is more?"

"Yes. Later, after her divorce from Theodomir, your mother married
Norman Westfall--"

"My father," corrected Diane swiftly.

Philip looked away.

"Her second marriage," he said at last, "was childless."

"Philip!" Diane's face flamed. "And I?"

"You," said Baron Tregar, "are the child of Theodomir."

In the strained silence a bird sent a sweet, clear call ringing lightly
over the water.

"That--that can not be!" faltered Diane. "It--it is too preposterous."

"I wish to Heaven it were!" said Philip quietly. "Whether or not it
was Theodomir's wish that his daughter be reared, in the eyes of the
world, as the daughter of Norman Westfall, to protect her from any
consequences incident to his possible discovery and enforced return to
Houdania, it is impossible to say. Hating royalty as he did, he may
have sought thus to shield his daughter from its taint. Why he
weakened and consigned the secret to paper--how or when he hid it in an
ancient candlestick in the home of Norman Westfall, remains shrouded in
utter mystery. It is but one of the many points that need light."

Again the Baron cleared his throat.

"And," said he, "since unwisely, Miss Westfall, for eugenic reasons, we
grant a certain freedom of marital choice to our princes--since wisely
or not as you will, the Salic Law does not, by an anci