Affairs of State. Burton Egbert Stevenson

cursing the stupidity of the unfortunate menials under him and striving madly to prove himself worthy the occasion—the greatest of his life! Every moment, a porter toiled up to the door with a load of luggage; every moment some one arrived demanding a room—and not one murmured at the tariff! The lift groaned and creaked under the unaccustomed weights put upon it and moved more slowly than ever. Pelletan, as he hurried past, mopping his perspiring brow, had time only for a single glance at his good angel—but what a glance! Such a glance, no doubt, Columbus caught from his lieutenants at the cry of "Land Ho!"

      Rushford, leaning over the desk, watching the confusion with an amusement which had banished every trace of ennui, felt his arm touched. He turned and recognised the be-gilt messenger of the day before.

      "A second telegram for monsieur," said that functionary, with an amiable grin, and produced the message.

      There was no time for hesitation. Rushford took it, signed the blank, and fished up the expected tip.

      "Oh, what a tangled web we weave!" he murmured, and looked at the address on the little white envelope. It read:

      _M. le Propriétaire,

      Grand Hôtel Royal,

      Weet-sur-Mer._

      "The plot thickens!" he murmured. "Well, it's really for me. Let's see," and he tore it open. He whistled again as he read the message; then he called the nearest boy. "Tell Monsieur Pelletan to come here at once," he said. "Tell him I must speak to him on a matter of importance."

      At the end of a moment, the little man puffed down the stair, exhausted, radiant!

      "Iss eet not grand!" he cried. "What a change from yesterday! T'ough how you haf accomplishe' eet, monsieur—"

      "No matter," interrupted Rushford. "Which is the next best of your apartments, Pelletan?"

      "T'e nex' best? Why, apartment B, monsieur. Eet iss t'e counterpart of apartment A, only on t'e nort' side of t'e house instead of t'e sout'."

      "And it is still empty?"

      "At two hundret francs t'e tay? Oh, yess, monsieur; only a Prince can afford eet now."

      "Well, you will prepare it at once—"

      "Ah, monsieur himself will take eet! T'at iss just! I shall pe too happy—"

      "No, no; you've just said that only a Prince can afford it and it's my business to produce him! Let's see—it's nearly nine—well, at ten o'clock, there will arrive in a special train—"

      Monsieur Pelletan had turned pale.

      "Een a special train?" he faltered. "What! Some one else?"

      "Yes—at ten o'clock—"

      "Who iss eet will arrive, monsieur?" questioned Pelletan faintly.

      "His Highness, Prince Frederick of Markeld, ambassador from the court of Schloshold-Markheim," answered Rushford, dwelling upon every word. "We will give him apartment B."