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Updated: May 28, 2025
Now here he was in a crooked Stamboul street, appearing without warning, but with his almost uncanny faculty for being at the right spot when needed. He shouldered his way to the side of the officer. Though the two men had parted several weeks before, the Galavian greeted the other only with a formal bow, and an abrupt question. "Where are they?" "I have lost them," replied Benton.
All Europe envies the services which Von Ritz squanders on Galavia." Benton looked up with a rush of memories, and was glad that the Galavian could not see him. Like all the men concerned, Von Ritz was inconspicuously a civilian in dress, but as he came down the center of the room he was, as always, the commanding figure, challenging attention.
"That point," went on Blanco, dropping his voice again, as they passed out of earshot, "is three thousand, five hundred feet above the sea. From the rock by the pines if you had a strong glass, you could see the Galavian flag which flies there the eye sweeps the sea for many empty leagues. One's gaze can also follow the gorge where runs the pass through the mountains.
When, after being cut off and delayed for some minutes by a passing donkey train, Von Ritz and Benton entered the place, they found it empty except for a native salesman, but as the Galavian paused to make a trivial purchase his listening ear caught a sound above. Without hesitation, he wheeled and mounted the stairs with Benton close at his heels.
"In the first place," began the Galavian at last, "His Majesty wished me to explain why he has presumed on your further assistance. You are the only man outside Galavia who understands and whom the King may implicitly trust, trust even with the safety of Her Majesty, the Queen." "You will convey to the King my appreciation of his confidence."
"Escort Monsieur Jusseret to the Palace gates!" he commanded, his eyes blazing on the Galavian officers. "The persons of even secret Ambassadors are sacred otherwise " His voice failed him. The officers cringed back under his glance, but stood supine and inactive. Karyl waited with a cold smile on his lips. His face was pale but there was no touch of fear in the expression.
For a moment more there was the same embarrassed silence between them, then the Galavian continued, measuring his words, speaking with desperately studied effort to eliminate the feeling that struggled to the surface. "You love my wife." "And shall," replied the American in the same calculated, colorless voice, "while I live." "I, too," said Pagratide. "Therefore we must talk." "Wait."
France suggests that the Governor-General should be a Galavian, and points to the one man conspicuously capable who happens to be," he added with an amused laugh, "my particular enemy." "You mean Von Ritz?" The question came from Italy's delegate. Jusseret bowed his head. "Von Ritz," he affirmed. Don Alphonso Rodriguez laughed with a note of incredulity.
Karyl's hair was rumpled; his eyes darkly ringed, and the line of his lips close set. Benton glanced out of his window. Across the gardens the wall was growing blanker, as lighted panes fell dark. One window, which he knew was Cara's, still showed a parallelogram of light behind its drawn shade. Karyl in passing followed the glance. He, too, recognized the window. At last the Galavian spoke.
"But, my dear lady, this revolution I have planted nourished and cultivated to ripeness I cannot harvest it. Outside Europe must not appear interested in this matter. If the Galavian people led by a member of the Galavian Royal House revolts! Bien! More than bien excellent!" Jusseret spread his palms. "But unless there is a leader, there can be no revolution.
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