Effenden Pascha was breathless, and for such a phlegmatic individual seemed to be much disturbed.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “I am here on a serious errand.”

The King bowed.

“Proceed, Effenden Pascha.”

“Your Majesty has heard the news from Bekal?”

Ughtred shook his head.

“I have heard nothing!”

The Turk raised his hands. It was incredible!

“Yesterday,” he announced, “a party of my Turks riding harmlessly along the frontier were attacked without warning by a large company of mounted Thetians, and cut to pieces.”

“It is amazing,” the King declared. “Was no provocation given? Were the Turks unarmed?”

Effenden Pascha was clear on both points. They were simply a party of surveyors accompanied by a few soldiers. They were set upon without the slightest warning.

“It is strange,” the King remarked, “that I should have heard nothing of this. It is stranger still, Effenden Pascha, that in my own capital you should first have received tidings of such gravity.”

The yellow-skinned Turk did not flinch. He bore the thrust without the least sign of disquietude.

“I myself,” he announced, “heard only by telegrams from Bekal ten minutes ago. One of the survivors galloped post-haste thither immediately after the affair. I have hastened to present the demands of my master the Sultan.”

“You lose no time,” Ughtred remarked, quietly.

The Turk shrugged his shoulders.

“The affair is of great importance,” he said. “My master will demand the execution of capital punishment upon all the leaders, and an indemnity of ten million piastres.”

“Your august master,” Ughtred remarked, “has lost no time in formulating his demands. My reply to you is this. Immediately I learn the details of the affair I will consider your proposal.”

The Ambassador, who had remained standing, bowed.

“That is to say,” he remarked, softly, “that at present you decline to offer me my satisfaction or to discuss the matter with me.”

“Exactly,” Ughtred answered. “If the affair turns out according to your telegram I shall at once offer to you my profound regrets, and such reparation as is within my power. I will communicate with you directly I hear.”

The Ambassador bowed once more, and there was a steely glint in his eyes.

“I fear,” he said, “that the delay will not be pleasing to my august master!”

“It is unavoidable,” the King answered. “You agree with me, Brand?”

Brand, who had been sitting in the alcove before a writing-table hidden by a curtain, looked out and assented gravely.

“Most certainly, your Majesty.”

The Turk started. His eyes flashed.

“So!” he exclaimed. “We have been overheard.”

“Mr. Brand is an Englishman of distinction,” the King said, softly. “I have appointed him for the present my private secretary. All affairs of State, therefore, are known to him.”

The Turk bowed low. It was no fool, after all, then, with whom he had to do. He went out thoughtfully. The presence of the Englishman had impressed him. In the council room he passed the Duke of Reist hurrying through to the presence of the King.

“Effenden Pascha,” he said, “will you wait for a moment. A dispatch has arrived concerning which the King will desire to see you at once.”

Effenden Pascha smiled, and took a chair in the ante-room beyond. He smoked a cigarette thoughtfully, and drank the coffee which a groom of the chambers hastened to bring him. In ten minutes Reist reappeared.

“Will you come with me?” he said.

Effenden Pascha threw down his cigarette, and followed.

The King had moved into the Council Chamber, and sat at the table with an open telegraph dispatch before him. Baron Doxis, the President of the House of Laws, was on one side of him, and Brand on the other. Effenden Pascha knew very well what was coming. The King looked at him, and there was an added sense of power in the grave, soldierly face.

“Effenden Pascha, we too have received a telegram from Bekal. Its contents are briefly these. Bekal, an unfortified village of Theos, was last night attacked by a large armed body of Turks, who proceeded to rob, murder, and outrage in the most barbarous fashion. My regard, however, for the safety of my frontier towns has led me lately to station bodies of mounted troops within signalling distance of Bekal, and my dispatch informs me that in the fight which followed your troops were driven across the frontier with heavy losses. You will see, Effenden Pascha, that my report and yours differ.”

The Turk smiled incredulously. The reports most certainly did differ.

“Now,” the King continued, “if your report is the true one, I will hold myself responsible for all the evil that has been done. If, on the other hand, mine is true, I shall at once formulate demands which I shall request you to lay before your august master. Now, I invite you, in order that the truth may be placed beyond doubt, to accompany an envoy from this court to Bekal by special train to-day, and there agree as to what has really happened.”

Effenden Pascha shrugged his shoulders.

“I must await the instructions of my master, your Majesty,” he answered, calmly.

“You decline his Majesty’s proposal, then?” Reist asked quietly.

The Turk was silent. The meddlesome Englishman’s pen was in the ink. His presence was disastrous.

“I do not decline—no,” he answered. “I await only a dispatch from Constantinople. I fear that your intelligence department is at fault. There has been no foray on the part of the Turks. My master desires peace above all things.”

Ughtred smiled.

“You say that your master desires peace above all things,” he said. “Let me see what our intelligence department has to say. Since the day of my accession to the throne you have concentrated within twenty miles of my frontier nearly thirty thousand men. Day by day this work of moving up troops has been going on. Last week trains were running all night to Bekal with war material and arms. What does this mean, Effenden Pascha?”

The Turk was dumfounded. The King’s gaze was keen and close. He visibly faltered.

“Your Majesty’s intelligence department has magnified a few harmless movements of troops,” he said. “We have internal troubles in the northern provinces which require strong garrisons.”

“But not thirty thousand men, Effenden Pascha,” the King said.

The Turk bowed.

“With your permission,” he said, “I will now go and lay before the Sultan, my master, your explanation of the Bekal incident.”

“We shall ourselves,” the King answered, “be requiring an explanation of that unprovoked attack upon our territory.”

The Turk bowed and withdrew. The three men were left alone.

“The situation is fairly clear, I think,” the King said. “Turkey is to be Russia’s catspaw—we are to be the chestnuts. One great point is in our favour. The onus of an unprovoked invasion must rest with Turkey. Brand will see the facts correctly stated in the English and American papers. We had better send to the barracks at once, Reist, for the General, and hold a council of war.”

There followed an hour’s anxious consultation. Then the King, without any attendant, as was his custom, left the Palace by the side entrance, and amidst the respectful salutations of the passers by walked across to the villa which Mr. Van Decht had rented. Mr. Van Decht and Sara were sitting in the garden. He accepted the chair they offered him, and lit a cigar mechanically.

“Mr. Van Decht,” he said, abruptly, “I regret exceedingly that I have encouraged you to make investments in my country. I did it for the best. It was for the advantage of my people, and I hoped for yours. I told you of the one risk. I fear that it has come to pass.”

Mr. Van Decht was unmoved. Sara turned upon him breathlessly.

“Do you mean war?” she exclaimed.

He nodded.

“It seems that our great neighbours,” he said, “resent our independence. Our chief enemy is Russia. In pursuance, I am convinced, of a secret understanding with her, Turkey is on the point of declaring war upon us.”

“Then all I can say is that it is a darned shame,” Mr. Van Decht declared, hotly. “Don’t you trouble yourself about my investments. If the Turks disturb my property I guess my country will know how to make them pay. Your Majesty, those Turks must be whipped.”

“While we’ve a yard to stand upon or a man to fight we shall do our best. I have been a soldier, as you know, all my life, and I have no sentimental hatred of war. But my country—ah well, it is so different when it is your own people who are going to die upon their homesteads, your own womenkind who must go sorrowing through life widowed and orphaned. I don’t suppose there is anything particularly beautiful about Theos,” the King continued, thoughtfully, “yet to me her quiet country places, her vineyards and farms, her whole rural life has seemed so simple and charming. I have seen my people at their play and at their daily tasks, a cheerful, honest people, light-hearted and fond of pleasure perhaps—why not? The thought of a blackened country, her vineyards and corn-fields red with blood, the homesteads in flames, my poor peasants fighting to the death against cruel odds—it is hideous! I do not dare to think of it or it will unman me. Only I pray to the God of our fathers that this thing will not seem just to the great liberty-loving nations and that they will not see us wiped out from the face of the earth.”

There was a moment’s silence. Mr. Van Decht was smoking vigorously. Sara was silent, because she did not dare to speak. But her eyes were eloquent. Ughtred threw away his cigar which had gone out, and lit another.

“Come,” he said, “I am getting an old woman. We must take the more cheerful view of things. I came to you at once, because I wanted to give you as much notice as possible.”

“What do you mean?” Sara asked, softly.

“I mean that of course you must go away,” Ughtred answered. “I cannot tell how long the railway communication will remain uninterrupted. Mr. Van Decht——”

He turned round and broke off in his speech. Mr. Van Decht had disappeared. Sara and he were alone.