ions are toward that friendless goose-girl."

"And what is that to you?" said the king, the smoke of anger in his
eyes.

"It is this much: if you have acted toward her otherwise than
honorably--Well!"

"Go on; you interest me!"

"Well, I promise to break every bone in your kingly body. In this room
it is man to man; I recognize no king, only the physical being."

The king pushed aside the table, furious. No living being had ever
spoken to him like that before. He swung the flat of his hand toward
Carmichael's face. The latter caught the hand by the wrist and bore down
upon it. The king was no weakling. There was a struggle, and Carmichael
found himself well occupied for a time. But his age and build were in
his favor, and presently he jammed the king to the wall and pinioned his
arms.

"There! Will you be patient for a moment?"

"You shall die for this insult!" said the king, as quietly as his hard
breathing would allow. He saw flashes of red between his face and the
other's.

"I have heard that before. But how?" banteringly.

"I will waive my crown; man to man!"

"Sword-sticks, sabers or hop-poles? Come," savagely, "what do you mean
by the goose-girl?"

So intent on the struggle were they that neither heard the door open and
close.

"Yes, my dear nephew; what do you mean by Gretchen?"

Carmichael released the king, and with feline quickness stooped and
secured the pistol which had fallen to the floor. Not sure of the new
arrival's purpose, he backed to the wall. He knew the voice and he
recognized its owner.

"Put it in your pocket, Mr. Carmichael. And let us finish this
discussion in English, since there are many ears about the place."

"His royal highness?" murmured the king.

"Yes, sire! True to life!"

Carmichael dropped the pistol into a pocket, and the king smoothed down
his crumpled sleeves.

"A fine comedy!" cried Herr Ludwig jovially, folding his arms over his
deep chest. "A rollicking adventure! Where's the story-book to match it?
A kingdom, working in the dark, headless; fine reading for these
sneaking journalists! Thunder and blazes!" with an amiability which had
behind it a good leaven of despair. "Well, nephew, you have not as yet
answered either Mr. Carmichael's question or my own. What do you mean by
Gretchen?"

"I love her," nobly. "And well for you, my uncle, that you come as you
do. I would have married her! Wrong her? What was a crown to me who,
till now, have never worn o