luggage net near his
head reposed that melodramatic sword, still wrapped in brown paper.

The train slowed, and Stampoff went into the corridor. He came back
instantly. "The station is guarded by troops," he muttered. "Some of the
officers may recognize me. Perhaps we ought to separate."

"No, no," said Alec. "Let us stick to the other passengers. I am the
real stranger here, and they can look at me as much as they like."

It was, indeed, easy to concede that Alexis III. was a man apart from
his people. Swarthy old Stampoff, Prince Michael Delgrado, the pink and
white Julius Marulitch, even the olive skinned, oval faced Beliani,
might have mingled with the throng on the platform and found each his
racial kith and kin; not so Alec. His stature, his carriage, his fair
complexion tanned brown with an open air life, picked him out among
these Balkan folk almost as distinctly as a Polar bear would show among
the denizens of an Indian jungle. Moreover, every man of importance
wore some sort of uniform, whereas Alec was quietly dressed in tweeds.

Thus, he drew many eyes, and evoked many a whispered comment; but never
a man or woman in that crowded terminus harbored the remotest notion
that he was a Delgrado. There were guesses in plenty, wherein he ranged
from an English newspaper correspondent to a Greek Prince, the latter
wild theory originating in the discovery of his name on the passport.
Stampoff was ignored, and all went well till Bosko, laden with
portmanteaus, led the way to the exit.

Alec, swayed by a desire to please his father, carried under his arm the
sword of Ferdinand VII. The customs officials at the barrier allowed the
party to pass; but a shrewd visaged officer standing just outside eyed
Alec's package.

"What have you there?" he asked, probably more anxious to exchange a
word with this distinguished looking stranger than really inquisitive.

"A sword," said Alec.

"And why are you carrying a sword?" said the other, who seemed hardly to
expect this prompt reply in the vernacular.

"It is a curiosity, a veritable antique."

"Ha! I must see it."

"Come with me to Monsieur Nesimir's house and I will show it to you."

The suspicious one became apologetic, since Monsieur Nesimir was
President of the National Assembly.

"I pray your pardon," he said. "Any friend of the President passes
unchallenged. But these are troublous times in Kosnovia, so you
understand----"

"Exactly. Brains are far more u