aid.

He glanced languidly at the envelope; then picked it up quickly and
scrutinized it sharply.

"We both are wrong," he said, and he motioned for the servant to return
it to me.

I knew he had recognized the writing and that it called for more
respect than a careless fling across the table. I broke the seal and
drew out the letter. It bore the Royal Arms over the word "Dornlitz."
Beneath, it read:

"MY DEAR COUSIN:

"His Majesty has told me of the meeting in the Library this morning. I
know I have no right to meddle--but, won't you please accept and come
back to your own? The King wants you. We shall welcome you with all
our hearts. Come, Armand!

"DEHRA."

I read it slowly a second time--and then a third time--wondering, the
while, whether I should show it to Courtney.

"You know who wrote this?" I asked.

"I know who wrote the address."

"Then know the note, also," said I, and read it to him.

His face was quite expressionless as I read; but, at the end, he gave
the faintest nod of approval. "If that does not hold you to the task,
you are----" he stopped. "God, Sir! You ought to be proud to be her
cousin," he ended.

I spent the balance of the day arranging the affairs of my office, to
the end that I could instantly sever all official relations with the
American Government, and, so assume my new rank with the least possible
embarrassment to Courtney. He would, doubtless, find it unfortunate
enough to have, as a Royal Archduke, one who but lately was his
Military Attache, and familiar with much of his policy and purpose. I
said as much to him that evening, as we rode toward the Summer Palace,
but he laughed it off.

"Embarrass me!" he exclaimed. "I shall be the most envied of the
Ambassadors; sought after by all the Court for a word to my friend, the
new Archduke--'that may be King hereafter.'"

"Don't," said I; "it's likely to be quite bad enough without calling on
Macbeth's Witches."

He leaned over and put his hand on my arm. "Brace up, old chap," he
said; "there's no boiling caldron and no witches."

"There are troubles of sorts other than those the caldron brewed," I
remarked.

We turned a bend in the road. "And witches of other sorts than those
of Fores' Heath," he laughed. "Behold!"

A hundred yards ahead, rode the Princess and Lady Helen Radnor.

"Here's your opportunity, Courtney," I observed.

He stared at me.

"To escort Lady Helen back to town." I explaine