se? Am I to be intimidated out of my pleasures?" Yet that his
heart was less stout than his words his very next question showed.
"Apropos, Bjelke, what was the reason why you countermanded the ball
last week?"

"The councillors from Gefle claimed Your Majesty's immediate attention,"
Bjelke reminded him.

"So you said at the time. But the business seemed none so urgent when we
came to it. There was no other reason in your mind--no suspicion?"

His keen, dark blue eyes were fixed upon the pale masklike face of the
secretary.

That grave, almost stern countenance relaxed into a smile.

"I suspected no more than I suspect now," was his easy equivocation.
"And all that I suspect now is that some petty enemy is attempting to
scare Your Majesty."

"To scare me?" Gustavus flushed to the temples. "Am I a man to be
scared?"

"Ah, but consider, Sire, and you, Bjelke," Armfelt was bleating. "This
may be a friendly warning. In all humility, Sire, let me suggest that
you incur no risk; that you countermand the masquerade."

"And permit the insolent writer to boast that he frightened the King?"
sneered Bjelke.

"Faith, Baron, you are right. The thing is written with intent to make a
mock of me."

"But if it were not so, Sire?" persisted the distressed Armfelt. And
volubly he argued now to impose caution, reminding the King of his
enemies, who might, indeed, be tempted to go the lengths of which the
anonymous writer spoke. Gustavus listened, and was impressed.

"If I took heed of every admonition," he said, "I might as well become
a monk at once. And yet--" He took his chin in his hand, and stood
thoughtful, obviously hesitating, his head bowed, his straight, graceful
figure motionless.

Thus until Bjelke, who now desired above all else the very thing he had
come hot-foot to avert, broke the silence to undo what Armfelt had done.

"Sire," he said, "you may avoid both mockery and danger, and yet attend
the masquerade. Be sure, if there is indeed a plot, the assassins will
be informed of the disguise you are to wear. Give me your flame-studded
domino, and take a plain black one for yourself."

Armfelt gasped at the audacity of the proposal, but Gustavus gave no
sign that he had heard. He continued standing in that tense attitude,
his eyes vague and dreamy. And as if to show along what roads of
thought his mind was travelling, he uttered a single word a name--in a
questioning voice scarce louder than a whisper.

Ankars