for Konrad Karl, though he lived in Beaufort's
Hotel, was by no means a rich man. The Crown revenues of Megalia, never
very large, were seized by the Republic at the time of the revolution,
and the king had no private fortune. He succeeded in carrying off the
Crown jewels when he left the country; but his departure was so hurried
that he carried off nothing else. His tastes were expensive, and Madame
Ypsilante was a lady of lavish habits. The Crown jewels of Megalia did
not last long. It was absolutely necessary for the king to earn, or
otherwise acquire, money from time to time, and Michael Gorman was as
good as any man in London at getting money in irregular ways.

It was Gorman, for instance, who started the Near Eastern Wine Growers'
Association. It prospered for a time because it was the only limited
liability company which had a king on its Board of Directors. It failed
in the end because the wine was so bad that nobody could drink it. It
was Gorman who negotiated the sale of the Island of Salissa to a wealthy
American. Madame Ypsilante got her famous pearl necklace out of the
price of the island. It was partly because the necklace was very
expensive that King Konrad Karl found himself short of money again
within a year of the sale of the island. The moment was a particularly
unfortunate one. Owing to the war it was impossible to start companies
or sell islands.

Things came to a crisis when Emile, the Bond Street dressmaker, refused
to supply Madame with an evening gown which she particularly wanted. It
was a handsome garment, and Madame was ready to promise to pay L100 for
it. Mr. Levinson, the business manager of Emile's, said that further
credit was impossible, when Madame's bill already amounted to L680. His
position was, perhaps, reasonable. It was certainly annoying. Madame,
after a disagreeable interview with him, returned to Beaufort's Hotel in
a very bad temper.

Gorman was sitting with the king when she stormed into the room. Hers
was one of those simple untutored natures which make little attempt to
conceal emotion. She flung her muff into a corner of the room. She tore
the sable stole from her shoulders and sent it whirling towards the
fireplace. Gorman was only just in time to save it from being burnt. She
dragged a long pin from her hat and brandished it as if it had been a
dagger.

"Konrad," she said, "I demand that at once the swine-dog be killed and
cut into small bits by the knives of execu