that we had a king, if
we dared to strike for him. He showed us proofs. We already had
organization, men and money, but we sadly lacked a man for the struggle.
My valorous people would have fought for me, poor as were my claims to
the crown, founded on the wrong done another. Imagine how high their
enthusiasm became on hearing that not only one of King Stovik's
glorified stock, but a man--a young king--was to lead the ancient flag
to victory. Russia, already dazed, can do nothing against the flame of
my people's ardor."

"But the Almanac de Gotha," insisted Carter to whom the reference to the
invisible king was a puzzling one.

"Knew nothing about King Stovik after his deposition and flight," she
interrupted with a charming smile.

"Tell me the story, Your Grace," he pleaded, for he could feel
instinctively that there was a story, an old world romance hidden here.

She held up a warning finger. "Be warned in time," she said, "it is a
vulnerable point with me, one on which I am likely to be extremely
prolix."

"You can but enhance the value of the legend," he replied with a bow. "I
promise, Highness," he laughed, once more at his ease, "not to take the
teeniest of naps."

Already deep in her recollections of her country's tribulations, her
responsive smile was of one who dreamed. Inspiring scenes of tragic
grandeur, the pageant of a nation's history wiped out in the groans of
conquest, lit the beauty of her eyes. So must the Maid of Orleans have
appeared to those who in awe listened to her. Softened by her
translation into the world of inspiration, she turned to him.

"How I envy those who can wield the pen," she sighed. "I wish I could
chronicle the story of the kings who have been safely hidden for
generations. Patiently, devotedly, for two centuries have they waited
for this day to dawn, the first opportunity that Krovitch has had to
take back her own from the despoiler of Europe. The narrative from where
general information ends," she continued, "briefly is as follows: King
Stovik with his queen and infant son escaped by the connivance of a
loyal nobleman on the midnight of the intended assassination of the
overthrown dynasty. With two servants, husband and wife, who insisted on
sharing the exile, he left Krovitch to find an asylum in a strange
country, where caution led him to change his name. Certain it is that
his subjects never learned the place of his retreat though they were
well assured that his line