ords.

The girl continued: "Do convey to Maria Theresa, of Aragon, all my
worldly titles and possessions..."

"Sounds like I were marrying her--I beg your pardon. 'Do convey to
Maria Theresa, of Aragon, all my worldly titles and possessions!'"

The shade of a smile played over his features.

The girl caught his hand in hers, placed her left in both of his, and
then continued: "And receive them back as vassal and retainer and to
faithfully fight in my lady's cause, according to the feudal laws of
Castile and Aragon!"

[Illustration: --"_and to faithfully fight in my lady's cause_"]

As he finished the repetition, she added: "Arise, vassal!"

With the spirit of the ceremony, he jestingly caught her hand and
kissed it, as he arose. She drew back sharply.

"That is part of the ceremony, but I meant to omit it."

Warren Jarvis laughed provokingly.

"That seemed to me the only sensible part of it--again I beg your
pardon. But who on earth is this Maria Theresa of Aragon person whose
hired man I have become?"

The girl drew herself up with a hauteur which could never have been
imitated upon the stage. Her dark eyes glinted coldly as she replied:
"I--I am her Serene Highness--Maria Theresa--Princess of Aragon!"

Jarvis looked at her, waiting for the cue to the joke. She was serious.
It was all so unreal, so ridiculous--and yet back there on the floor of
the room down the corridor lay Jim Marcum. This mad, sad,
heart-rending, adventure must have driven him to insanity. He rubbed
his brow, looked out of the window, heard the unromantic honk-honk of a
piratical night-owl taxicab on the street so far below. He steadied his
mental equilibrium, and looked again at the self-possessed young woman,
whose regal manner was as convincing as all the other details were
unconvincing. On the table lay a fortune in jewels and rings and a
necklace. He had not noticed them before. He remembered the Spanish
conversation which he had heard through the bathroom door. He realized
from the size and elegance of the rooms that this must indeed be a
regal suite in the great hotel.

And the girl's steady look never wavered.

American humor, in the presence of royalty, came to his aid in this
staggering blow to his credence.

"Good-_night_! You a Princess ... and I've been ordering you around
with a gun! Great Scott ... what _next_?"

V

EXIT JARVIS, LAUGHING

The Princess turned toward the door, for a step could be heard in