The Traitors. E. Phillips Oppenheim

merriment.

      “You must talk to father,” she said. “I dare say he will come. He loves new countries. Only I’m sure he won’t behave properly at Court. He’s a terrible democrat, and he likes to shake hands with everybody.”

      “He shall shake hands with me as often as he likes,” Ughtred said. “You must remember, Sara, that royalty in Theos is not exactly like royalty in this country. Why, my whole domain is not so large as some English counties. I mean to go about my kingdom exactly like a private individual. Come to Theos, and we will play racquets in the throne room.”

      She shook her head.

      “The smaller the kingdom, as a rule,” she said, “the more circumstance and etiquette surround the Court. I do not think that you will be allowed to play racquets in the throne room, or to shake hands very often with a Chicago stock-jobber, even though he is my father. We shall come and gaze upon you from afar.”

      “So long as you will come,” he replied, confidently, “we will see about the rest. Do you know, Sara, it would almost spoil everything if I felt that this change in my life were to disturb—our friendship.”

      She drew a long palm leaf through her fingers and let it fall regretfully. It was cool and pleasant to the touch. A violin, hidden somewhere amongst the waving green, sent strange notes of melody out through the court, and a little man, bravely dressed in scarlet and yellow, bobbed up and down over his instrument. The girl was thinking—wondering! It was so sudden a change, this. Ughtred Erlito had been a delightful friend—but Ughtred of Tyrnaus! It was so strange a transition. She kept her eyes fixed upon the marble floor, and her heart beat for a moment or two to the sad music of the wailing violin. Then she sprang to her feet—the folly had passed. With one sudden movement one of the little ornaments hanging from her bracelet became detached and rolled away. Ughtred recovered it, and would have fastened it upon the gold wire, but she stopped him.

      “It is my four-leaved clover,” she said. “See, I shall give it to you. May it bring you good fortune. Floreat Theos!”

      He held it in his palm—a dainty ornament set with diamonds and quaintly shaped.

      “Do you mean it?” he asked.

      “Why, of course,” she answered. “If it is not exactly a coronation present, it will at least help to remind you—of the days before you were a King.”

      “I need no trinkets to remind me of some things,” he answered, quietly, “but Theos will give me nothing which I shall prize more than this. I shall keep it, too, as a pledge of your promise. You will come to Theos?”

      “Yes, I will come,” she answered.

      Nicholas of Reist was by their side, dark, almost saturnine in his black evening clothes and tie. His presence had a chilling effect upon them both. Sara rose to her feet.

      “Will you see if you can find father?” she said to Ughtred. “He was talking to some Americans who went into the restaurant.”

      He moved away. She turned quickly to Reist.

      “I wanted to ask you,” she said. “You live in Theos, and you can give me an idea. What is there that I can send Prince Ughtred for a coronation present?”

      “That is a very difficult question to answer,” Reist said. “Will you not be a little more explicit? A steam yacht would be a present, so would a cigarette-case.”

      She nodded quickly.

      “Yes! I should have explained. Money is of no consequence at all. I had thought of a team of horses and a coach.”

      He was suddenly serious. He eyed the girl with a new curiosity. She then was one of the daughters of this new world before whose golden key every Court in Europe had yielded. She was of striking appearance, perhaps beautiful, instinctively well bred. She might be destined to play a part in the affairs of Theos.

      “ ‘Money is of no consequence at all,’ ” he repeated, thoughtfully. “We are poor folk in Theos, Miss Van Decht, and we do not often hear such words.”

      “Sometimes I think,” she said, “that our wealth is our misfortune. Now you understand, don’t you? Prince Ughtred was very kind to us at Cairo and on the voyage back, and we have seen quite a little of him in London. I should like to give him something really useful. Please suggest something.”

      “I will take you at your word then, Miss Van Decht,” he answered. “Send him a Maxim-Nordenfeld gun. If you want to be magnificent, send him a battery.”

      She looked at him in amazement.

      “Do you mean it?” she exclaimed.

      “I do,” he answered. “Prince Ughtred is a very keen soldier, and he is never tired of praising these guns. For the first year or two at the least we shall have troublous times, and a battery of maxims might save all our lives and the throne. Theos has, alas, no money to spend in artillery, though her soldiers are as brave as any in the world.”

      “Father and I will see about it to-morrow,” she declared. “Hush! here they come.”

      Ughtred was approaching with her father, and watching him it occurred to her for the first time how well his new part in life would become him. He was tall and broad, and he moved with the free, easy dignity of a soldier accustomed to command.

      “I have found your father,” he said, “and your carriage is waiting. I thought that if Reist would excuse me for half-an-hour——”

      Reist interrupted him at once.

      “You must not go away,” he declared, earnestly. “Not for five minutes. Believe me it is necessary.”

      “My dear fellow——” Ughtred protested.

      “Is it possible,” Reist exclaimed, with some impatience, “that you do not recognize the great misfortune of this evening? I was wrong to allow you to come—to be seen in London with you. Prince Alexis is more than an ordinary ambassador. He is a born diplomatist, a true Russian—he is one of the clique who to-day rule the country. With Hassen’s aid he has, without a doubt, surmised the purport of my visit to you. By this time he is hard at work. Let me tell you that if he can prevent it you will never set foot in Theos. There must be no more delay. Come!”

      Sarah held out her hand. Her eyes met his frankly.

      “The Duke of Reist must be obeyed,” she said. “I am sure that he is right. Good-bye, Prince Ughtred! You are very fortunate, for you have a great and noble work before you. May you succeed in it. I shall hope and pray for your success.”

      A little abruptly she turned away and took her father’s arm. The two men watched them disappear—the little grey-headed man with his ill-cut clothes, and hard, shrewd face, and the tall, graceful girl, whose toilette was irreproachable, and whose carriage and bearing moved even Reist to admiration. They passed down the carpeted way and through the swing-doors. Then Reist touched his companion on the arm.

      “It is half-past eleven,” he said. “We are going to catch the twelve o’clock train from Charing Cross.”

CHAPTER VIII

       Table of Contents

      The whistle sounded at last, the train began to glide slowly away from the almost deserted platform. But at the last moment a man came running through the booking-office, and made for one of the compartments. He tugged at the handle, wrenched it open, and was preparing for a flying leap when an inspector seized him. There was an altercation, a violent struggle—the man was left upon the platform. Reist drew a long breath of relief as he settled down in his corner.

      “The way these things are managed in England,” he said, “it is excellent.”

      Ughtred