eeches. It is
there, now--and the tapestries, with which the walls are hung,
completely hide it."

"It can be reached from the floor above?" I asked.

"Yes, Your Highness; a narrow stairway admits to it."

"Can we enter without being overheard by those in the room below?"

"Very readily, sir; the gallery was so designed that its noises would
not disturb those in the dining-room."

"We are in good luck, Bernheim," I said.

"We shall need all of it, sir, with eight spectators."

And he was right. It was foolish to risk success for only a
sentimental reason. I knew, perfectly well, the proper course was for
no one but the King and myself to be in the gallery; yet, there entered
my Dalberg stubbornness. I purposed that some of those, who had seen
me accused that night on the Hanging Garden, should see me exculpated
to-night.

It may be, that some will question the propriety of my action, and the
good taste of those who were my guests. As to the latter, it must be
borne in mind that my invitation was in the nature of a command, which
it would have been vastly discourteous to decline. And, besides, they
were my friends. As for myself, I have no excuses to offer--and,
methinks, I need none. The situation had long passed the refinement of
ethics. It was war; and war not of my declaring. Neither was I
responsible for the style of the campaign. Madeline Spencer deserved
no consideration from me--and no more did her visitor.

XXIV

THE END OF THE PLAY

I had, yet, an hour to spare, so Bernheim and I returned to the Epsau.
I donned the evening uniform of the Red Huzzars, with the broad Ribbon
of the Lion across my breast and the Cincinnati around my neck. I was
minded to be the Dalberg Archduke to-night.

Then, having dispatched Bernheim to the Palace to escort the King and
the Princess, I drove to the Metzen, where Gerst piloted me, by private
corridors, to the apartments reserved for me, and which adjoined the
Gallery.

The King and the Princess were the last to arrive. As I greeted them,
Dehra detained me.

"Shall we be able to see as well as hear?" she asked.

"Yes," said I, "if you wish."

"I do wish," she said. "I'm savage to-night."

I laughed. "It's very becoming, dear."

Then the great bell of the Cathedral began to chime the hour; and, with
a word of caution, I led the way to the Gallery.

The floor was covered with a thick carpet and eight small chairs were
placed close to t