. Next his gaze shifted to the end of the path, where a
young Lieutenant stood idly kicking pebbles, his cuirass flaming in the
dazzling sunshine. Soon the drawing in the gravel was resumed.

The British minister made little of the three-score years which were
closing in on him, after the manner of an army besieging a citadel. He
was full of animal exuberance, and his eyes, a trifle faded, it must
be admitted, were still keenly alive and observant. He was big of
bone, florid of skin, and his hair--what remained of it--was wiry and
bleached. His clothes, possibly cut from an old measure, hung loosely
about the girth--a sign that time had taken its tithe. For thirty-five
years he had served his country by cunning speeches and bursts of fine
oratory; he had wandered over the globe, lulling suspicions here and
arousing them there, a prince of the art of diplomacy.

He had not been sent here to watch this kingdom. He was touching a
deeper undercurrent, which began at St. Petersburg and moved toward
Central Asia, Turkey and India, sullenly and irresistibly. And now his
task was done, and another was to take his place, to be a puppet among
puppets. He feared no man save his valet, who knew his one weakness, the
love of a son on whom he had shut his door, which pride forbade him to
open. This son had chosen the army, when a fine diplomatic career had
been planned--a small thing, but it sufficed. Even now a word from an
humbled pride would have reunited father and son, but both refused to
speak this word.

The diplomat in turn watched the king as he engaged in the aimless
drawing. His meditation grew retrospective, and his thoughts ran back
to the days when he first befriended this lonely prince, who had come to
England to learn the language and manners of the chill islanders. He had
been handsome enough in those days, this Leopold of Osia, gay and eager,
possessing an indefinable charm which endeared him to women and made him
respected of men. To have known him then, the wildest stretch of
fancy would never have placed him on this puppet throne, surrounded
by enemies, menaced by his adopted people, rudderless and ignorant of
statecraft.

"Fate is the cup," the diplomat mused, "and the human life the ball,
and it's toss, toss, toss, till the ball slips and falls into eternity."
Aloud he said, "Your Majesty seems to be well occupied."

"Yes," replied the king, smiling. "I am making crowns and scratching
them out again--usurp