f the position of reigning monarch which appealed to Gorman,
and there were all sorts of possibilities about the situation and its
future developments.

A week later, just as he was beginning to forget Goldsturmer's visit,
Gorman had fresh cause for anxiety. I remember the day very well. I
was lunching at my club, a club of which Gorman is also a member. As I
entered the room I saw him sitting at a table near the window. I
intended to join him, for Gorman is always good company. When I
reached his table I saw that he already had a companion--Steinwitz,
the director of the Cyrenian Sea Steam Navigation Company. I turned
away at once, for Steinwitz is a man whom I particularly dislike.
Gorman caught sight of me and called:

"Come and sit here. There's plenty of room. The waiter can lay another
place."

"Thanks," I said, "but I've just caught sight of a man at the far end
of the room whom I particularly want to talk to."

"Talk to him later on," said Gorman, "Come and sit here now."

There was something in Gorman's tone which made me think he really
wanted me to sit at his table, that he had a motive in pressing me as
he did. But I was not going to lunch in the company of Steinwitz. I
have nothing definite against the man; but I do not like him. I shook
my head and found a seat at the far end of the room.

Afterwards--months afterwards--Gorman told me that he wanted me very
badly that day, me or some one else. He wanted a third person at his
table. Steinwitz was asking inconvenient questions, talking about
matters Gorman did not want to discuss. The presence of a third person
might have saved Gorman some awkwardness.

Steinwitz was insistent and determined. He laid hold on Gorman before
lunch and clung to him until they sat down together.

"You remember asking me," said Steinwitz--"let me see, it must have
been a couple of months ago--you remember asking me for information
about Megalia."

"Did I?" said Gorman.

"And I told you it was a rotten country--no trade, no harbours, no
tourist traffic, no anything. Well--rather an odd thing happened
yesterday. A man came into my office--by the way, you know him, I
think--Donovan, the American millionaire----"

"Oh, yes, I know him. Owns a pretty daughter, doesn't he?"

"She was with him," said Steinwitz--"a romantic sort of girl, I should
say, by the look of her. Head stuffed full of silly fancies."

Steinwitz' eyes were on Gorman all the time he was speaking. Gorm