One by one the members of the Council staggered to their feet. The coming of the King was like a bombshell thrown amongst them. They were met in secret conclave, a proceeding to the last degree unconstitutional. They were receiving, too, an emissary from a foreign country which amounted to high treason. Doxis was perhaps the first to recover himself.

“Your Majesty’s coming is unexpected,” he said. “I trust that there is no ill news from the seat of war.”

“There is no news, save good news,” the King answered, having handed a chair to Marie. “Yesterday’s battle you all know about. I will tell you the prospects later. Meanwhile, I see that you have a stranger here. What has Monsieur Gourdolis to say to us?”

Gourdolis rose slowly to his feet. He was a man of resource, a shrewd and ready diplomatist. Already he was scheming how to turn to his own advantage the King’s unexpected presence. He played a bold card.

“Your Majesty,” he said, respectfully, “it was painful to me to put forward my master’s propositions to the Council of the House of Laws in your absence, it is still more painful to do so in your presence. I speak, however, to the representatives of a nation whose liberty and whose very existence is threatened, and I offer them—in a word—salvation. That is my excuse for my presence here to-day.”

“What your offer really amounts to is no doubt the Russian yoke instead of the Turkish,” Ughtred remarked, bitterly. “My forefathers have tasted more than once of Muscovite generosity.”

Gourdolis shook his head gravely.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “you wrong my country, and my master. Our demands are very simple, and I lay the terms of them here upon the table. The only conditions upon which I regret to say that my master is immovable is the immediate abdication of your Majesty.”

The King sat with unchanged face.

“In favour of whom?” he asked.

“Nicholas, Duke of Reist!”

“Is the Duke of Reist cognizant of this, and willing to accept the throne?” the King asked.

“He is, your Majesty,” Baron Doxis answered.

Marie rose to her feet.

“It is false,” she declared. “My brother is a patriot, and he has taken the oath of allegiance to the King. I pledge my word for his that he will keep that oath.”

A murmur of blank amazement was followed by a dead silence. Gourdolis was speechless. The King looked around him, sternly.

“Have I by chance stumbled upon a conspiracy?” he asked. “What do you say, Taverner, and you, Valgrosse? Did you come here prepared to listen to such a proposition as this?”

“Indeed, your Majesty,” Taverner answered, hastily, “I did not.”

“Nor I!” Valgrosse echoed.

“What about you, Doxis?” the King asked.

The old Baron, who, for many years had been chairman of the House of Laws, rose slowly to his feet.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “I will admit that I alone of those present here had some knowledge of this proposal. I hope that your Majesty will not look upon my presence here as disloyal or unseemly. Only in my heart is deep engraven the love of my country and her people, and the one dread of my life has been the coming of the Turk. Your Majesty, no one has been a more sincere admirer than myself of the wise and careful manner in which you have ruled this country. Young though you are, you have more than fulfilled our most sanguine expectations. Only I fear that unaided we may as well hope to stem the tide of the mighty Danube as repel this Turkish invasion.”

“You have spoken like a true man, Doxis,” the King said. “Yet I must remind you that your presence here is akin to treason. What of the oath of loyalty which you swore to me only a few months ago?”

“Your Majesty,” Doxis answered, “I have not broken that oath. I am here only to listen to what these proposals may be. That, I take it, is the position also of my colleagues.”

A murmur of assent. Gourdolis remained standing, his papers in his hands.

“Your Majesty will forgive me if I assert that there is no treason involved in the presence of any one here. I summoned those to meet me whom I knew to be real and true patriots—who would not hesitate at a small thing to secure their country’s freedom.”

The King faced him scornfully.

“We have heard, Monsieur Gourdolis,” he said, “of the freedom of those countries whom your beneficent master has taken under his wing. Councillors, I think more highly of your intelligence than to imagine that you are to be suborned by such clumsy intriguing as this. Freedom is one thing, the yoke of Russia another. I will tell you some of the considerations which Monsieur Gourdolis has presently to propose to you. The custom-houses are to be controlled by Russia. The appointment of all government officials is to be sanctioned by her. Our foreign policy is to be her foreign policy. The army is to be officered by Russians, and Russian is to be taught in the schools. These things are amongst your conditions. Is it not so, Monsieur Gourdolis?”

Gourdolis hesitated, and his chance was gone.

“You have employed spies,” he muttered.

“Not I!” the King answered. “Yet I know your terms as they were proposed to Nicholas of Reist, and it amazes me only that you should have expected men in whose hands remain the destinies of their country to give you even a patient hearing. My Councillors, give this man the answer his insolent mission deserves, and let him be shown across the frontier. We will before long show Europe how we deal with our enemies. The Turks are not yet at the gates of the city.”

There was a murmur of respectful enthusiasm. Gourdolis smiled a very evil smile.

“Not yet,” he murmured, “but the end is not far off.”

Baron Doxis rose up.

“Your Majesty,” he announced, “our answer is unanimous. We have been misled by Baron Domiloff, both as to the nature of Monsieur Gourdolis’s mission and the attitude of the Duke of Reist. We reject his terms. We decline once and for all to treat with him. We trust to God and to you to keep the enemy from our gates.”

The King smiled upon them.

“I thank you all,” he said, “for your confidence. Let me add that I believe the day will come when you will be heartily thankful that you gave this man the answer he deserved. The importance of our victory yesterday has, I find, been wilfully minimized in the city, but I can assure you that with only a very trifling loss we withstood an attack on the part of the whole Turkish forces. I have, however, better news than that for you. The greatest nation in the world would seem to have espoused our cause. Yesterday afternoon the English Ambassador at Constantinople presented an ultimatum to the Sultan, demanding the withdrawal of his forces from the frontier of Theos. The Press throughout Europe have announced the fact this morning.”

Baron Doxis rose hurriedly to his feet.

“Your Majesty,” he exclaimed, in broken tones, “permit me, on the part of your Councillors and myself, to express our unbounded confidence both in your military skill and in your diplomacy. Theos has found a second Rudolph.”

The King smiled faintly.

“We are an instance,” he said, “of an ancient nation who has benefited by the great new power of this generation. My diplomatic appeal to the English Government would have been of no avail but for the wonderful espousal of our cause by the whole British Press. That we owe to one who has been living amongst us, and who has three times within the last few days narrowly escaped assassination by the friends of Baron Domiloff. Monsieur Gourdolis, you have your answer.”

Gourdolis remained imperturbable. He bowed to Baron Doxis, and moved towards the door. Then he faced the King.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “has a singularly dramatic knack of turning up in unexpected places and at unexpected times. May that faculty not desert you during the next few days.”

He closed the door and departed. The King rose to his feet.

“Baron Doxis,” he said, “I leave the charge of the city in your hands. I return at once to the front. There is no telegraphic communication between the headquarters of the Turkish Commander-in-Chief and Constantinople, and in any case it is well to be prepared. Countess of Reist, will you favour me for one moment?”

She led him into her own little room, and placed her hands in his.

“We are friends?” he asked.

“If your Majesty can really pardon me,” she answered, fervently, “—for always.”

“And Brand?” the King asked.

Her cheeks burned with a sudden rush of colour.

“You may tell him,” she said, “after to-morrow.”