hold, and must exchange
his shabby old rooms for the cold magnificence of the Palace.

Toto had climbed to the chair beside him, and was inspecting his
pockets, one by one. Toto was rather a problem, in the morning. But
then everything was a problem now. He decided to leave the dog with the
landlady, and to hope for a chance to talk the authorities over. Nikky
himself considered that a small boy without a dog was as incomplete as,
for instance, a buttonhole without a button.

He was very downhearted. To the Crown Prince, each day, he gave the best
that was in him, played and rode, invented delightful nonsense to bring
the boy's quick laughter, carried pocketfuls of bones, to the secret
revolt of his soldierly soul, was boyish and tender, frivolous or
thoughtful, as the occasion seemed to warrant.

And always he was watchful, his revolver always ready and in touch, his
eyes keen, his body, even when it seemed most relaxed, always tense to
spring. For Nikky knew the temper of the people, knew it as did Mathilde
gossiping in the market, and even better; knew that a crisis was
approaching, and that on this small boy in his charge hung that crisis.

The guard at the Palace had been trebled, but even in that lay weakness.

"Too many strange faces," the Chancellor had said to him, shaking his
head. "Too many servants in livery, and flunkies whom no one knows. How
can we prevent men, in such livery, from impersonating our own agents?
One, two, a half-dozen, they could gain access to the Palace, could
commit a mischief under our very eyes."

So Nikky trusted in his own right arm and in nothing else. At night the
Palace guard was smaller, and could be watched. There were no servants
about to complicate the situation. But in the daytime, and especially
now with the procession of milliners and dressmakers, messengers and
dealers, it was more difficult. Nikky watched these people, as he
happened on them, with suspicion and hatred. Hatred not only of what
they might be, but hatred of what they were, of the thing they typified,
Hedwig's approaching marriage.

The very size of the Palace, its unused rooms, its long and rambling
corridors, its rambling wings and ancient turrets, was against its
safety.

Since the demonstration against Karl, the riding-school hour had been
given up. There were no drives in the park. The illness of the King
furnished sufficient excuse, but the truth was that the royal family was
practically besie