waiting,
respectful, impersonal, until the flood of words should subside, but for
a while Karyl swept agitatedly on.

"You wear a sword, Von Ritz, which any monarch in Europe would hire at
your own price. Any government would let you name what titles and honors
you wished in payment--"

"Your Majesty!"

"Forgive me, I know your sword is not for sale. I mean no such
intimation. I mean only that it has a value. I mean you are a man, and
the game to you is the large one of statecraft. It is really you who
rule this Kingdom. Ah, yes, you remonstrate, but I tell you it is true,
and the damnable shame is that it is not a Kingdom worthy of your
genius! You, Von Ritz, are the engine, the motive force--but I--in God's
holy name, what am I?"

He raised his hands questioningly, appealingly.

"You," replied the older soldier calmly, "are the King."

"Yes," Karyl caught up the words almost before they had fallen from the
lips of the other. "Yes, I am the King. I am the miserable, gilded
figurehead out on the prow, which serves no end and no purpose. I am
the ornamental symbol of a system which the world is discarding! I am a
medieval lay figure upon which to hang these tinsel decorations, these
ribbons!"

"Your Majesty is excited."

"No, by God, I am only heartbroken--and I am through!" The King's hands
dropped at his sides. The passion died out of his voice and eyes,
leaving them those of a man who is very tired. For a moment there was
silence. It was broken by the American.

"Pagratide," he asked, "why did you send for me?"

The King stood rigid with the illuminating shaft from the door touching
into high-lights the polish of his boots and the burnish of his
accouterments. Finally he turned and in a voice now deadly quiet
countered with another question.

"Benton, why did you save me?"

The American answered with quiet candor.

"I went into it," he said, "because I feared the danger might threaten
Cara. Once in, only a murderer could have turned back."

"So I thought." Karyl nodded his head, then he turned and paced
restively up and down the path between the fountain and the balcony. At
last he halted fronting the American.

"I wish to God, Benton, you had let that traitor Lapas and his
constituents touch their damned button. I wish to God you had let them
lift me, amid the stones of _do Freres_, into eternity! But that wish is
uncharitable to Von Ritz and the others who must have gone with me." The
King broke