they would be killed in the catching… One could deny anyhow,

deny and deny.

And then he became aware of half a dozen little shining specks

very high in the blue… Pestovitch came out to him presently.

'The government messages, sire, have all dropped into cipher,' he

said. 'I have set a man--'

'LOOK!' interrupted the king, and pointed upward with a long,

lean finger.

Pestovitch followed that indication and then glanced for one

questioning moment at the white face before him.

'We have to face it out, sire,' he said.

For some moments they watched the steep spirals of the descending

messengers, and then they began a hasty consultation…

They decided that to be holding a council upon the details of an

ultimate surrender to Brissago was as innocent-looking a thing as

the king could well be doing, and so, when at last the ex-king

Egbert, whom the council had sent as its envoy, arrived upon the

scene, he discovered the king almost theatrically posed at the

head of his councillors in the midst of his court. The door upon

the wireless operators was shut.

The ex-king from Brissago came like a draught through the

curtains and attendants that gave a wide margin to King

Ferdinand's state, and the familiar confidence of his manner

belied a certain hardness in his eye. Firmin trotted behind him,

and no one else was with him. And as Ferdinand Charles rose to

greet him, there came into the heart of the Balkan king again

that same chilly feeling that he had felt upon the balcony-and

it passed at the careless gestures of his guest. For surely any

one might outwit this foolish talker who, for a mere idea and at

the command of a little French rationalist in spectacles, had

thrown away the most ancient crown in all the world.

One must deny, deny…

And then slowly and quite tiresomely he realised that there was

nothing to deny. His visitor, with an amiable ease, went on

talking about everything in debate between himself and Brissago

except--.

Could it be that they had been delayed? Could it be that they

had had to drop for repairs and were still uncaptured? Could it

be that even now while this fool babbled, they were over there

among the mountains heaving their deadly charge over the side of

the aeroplane?

Strange hopes began to lift the tail of the Slavic fox again.

What was the man saying? One must talk to him anyhow until one

knew. At any moment the little brass door behind him might open

with the news of Brissago blown to atoms. Then it would be a

delightful relief to the present tension to arrest this chatterer

forthwith. He might be killed perhaps. What?

The king was repeating his observation. 'They have a ridiculous

fancy that your confidence is based on the possession of atomic

bombs.'

King Ferdinand Charles pulled himself together. He protested.

'Oh, quite so,' said the ex-king, 'quite so.'

'What grounds?' The ex-king permitted himself a gesture and the

ghost of a chuckle-why the devil should he chuckle? 'Practically

none,' he said. 'But of course with these things one has to be

so careful.'

And then again for an instant something-like the faintest shadow

of derision-gleamed out of the envoy's eyes and recalled that

chilly feeling to King Ferdinand's spine.

Some kindred depression had come to Pestovitch, who had been

watching the drawn intensity of Firmin's face. He came to the

help of his master, who, he feared, might protest too much.

'A search!' cried the king. 'An embargo on our aeroplanes.'

'Only a temporary expedient,' said the ex-king Egbert, 'while the

search is going on.'

The king appealed to his council.

'The people will never permit it, sire,' said a bustling little

man in a gorgeous uniform.

'You'll have to make 'em,' said the ex-king, genially addressing

all the councillors.

King Ferdinand glanced at the closed brass door through which no

news would come.

'When would you want to have this search?'

The ex-king was radiant. 'We couldn't possibly do it until the

day after to-morrow,' he said.

'Just the capital?'

'Where else?' asked the ex-king, still more cheerfully.

'For my own part,' said the ex-king confidentially, 'I think the

whole business ridiculous. Who would be such a fool as to hide

atomic bombs? Nobody. Certain hanging if he's caught-certain,

and almost certain blowing up if he isn't. But nowadays I have to

take orders like the rest of the world. And here Iam.'

The king thought he had never met such detestable geniality. He

glanced at Pestovitch, who nodded almost imperceptibly. It was

well, anyhow, to have a fool to deal with. They might have sent a

diplomatist. 'Of course,' said the king, 'I recognise the

overpowering force-and a kind of logic-in these orders from

Brissago.'

'I knew you would,' said the ex-king, with an air of relief, 'and

so let us arrange--'

They arranged with a certain informality. No Balkan aeroplane

was to adventure into the air until the search was concluded, and

meanwhile the fleets of the world government would soar and

circle in the sky. The towns were to be placarded with offers of

reward to any one who would help in the discovery of atomic

bombs…

'You will sign that,' said the ex-king.

'Why?'

'To show that we aren't in any way hostile to you.'

Pestovitch nodded 'yes' to his master.

'And then, you see,' said the ex-king in that easy way of his,

'we'll have a lot of men here, borrow help from your police, and

run through all your things. And then everything will be over.

Meanwhile, if I may be your guest…' When presently Pestovitch

was alone with the king again, he found him in a state of

jangling emotions. His spirit was tossing like a wind-whipped