The editorial staff of the Mercury had certainly done their work very well. No detail had been spared to make the report absolutely complete. Everybody was reminded that recently there had been a great deal of friction in that corner of the Balkans known as Asturia. It was well known that for many years Russia had coveted that fair province. Up to now the crown of the King of Asturia had been quite safe. But with the advent of the present monarch things were entirely different. King Erno had very early in his career given evidence that he did not appreciate the full measure of responsibility. He was too fond of gaiety and pleasure; he had no patriotism. His people were a stern, hard-living race, and they did not tolerate the gaiety of the new court.

The queen was all very well, but she was only the consort, after all. It was useless for her to be ever on the spot whilst the king was dissipating his fortune and spending the money ground from his people by extra taxation in London and Paris. And latterly eyes had been turned to Vienna, where dwelt Prince Alix, who was known to covet the throne. At any moment there might be a glaring tragedy, and Prince Alix might find himself with the crown. That Prince Alix was notoriously a friend of Russia mattered little at the present juncture.

Lechmere read all this as he hurried along Fleet Street. He also read a lot of information that was true, and more that was false. Evidently the Mercury people cared for nothing beyond the sensation of the hour. But after all this came the sting of the thing. The King of Asturia had that night gone down to the Mercury office and demanded audience of the editor. He had been very wild and violent, and the intimation that he was hopelessly intoxicated was not very carefully concealed. The king wished it to be understood that he had done with Asturia. He had not the slightest intention of going back to his capital any more. His abdication was signed, and doubtless by that time a deputation was on its way to Vienna to offer the throne to Prince Alix. Altogether, it was perhaps the most sensational report that ever appeared even in an American paper. It was certain to create a great commotion, and set all the courts of Europe by the ears.

"Well, of all the amazing audacity!" Lechmere muttered as he raced along. "Nothing more daring had ever been done in the history of political intrigue. I wonder if Hunt suspects the truth. Not that it would make any difference to him so long as he could shift the responsibility afterwards, as I daresay he will be prepared with proofs that he was justified in what he did. There is only one way to get even with this thing."

Lechmere arrived at length at the office of the Daily Herald. The paper in question had very little taint of the modern spirit about it. There was no chance, for instance, that it would ever be published for less than a penny. The Herald had no very great reputation for enterprise, but it was sound and safe, and everything therein would be accepted as true. No newspaper in the kingdom carried more weight, no journal had a greater reputation for veracity.

The Herald had not gone to press yet. There was no great hurry, seeing that the feverish rush to capture circulation had never commended itself to the paper's proprietors. There was a sense of decorum about the office that had been lacking in the entourage of the Mercury. The place seemed more dignified; there was no noise; all the corridors had felted floors. Even down in the manager's office the same decorum prevailed.

Lechmere knew that he would have no difficulty in seeing the editor of the Herald. In the first place, that gentleman was an old friend of his; indeed, Lechmere had contributed from time to time many articles on foreign politics. Mr. Eveleigh was at liberty, and would see Mr. Lechmere at once. The editor was lying back in an armchair smoking a cigar.

"I have just finished, my dear fellow," he said. "I hope you have something good for me? Nothing wrong? You look actually excited, a most unusual thing for you."

"I certainly have come along at a pretty good pace," Lechmere admitted. "A most extraordinary thing has happened. If this matter is allowed to pass there is no limit to the damage that it may do. Will you be so good as to cast your eye on that, Eveleigh?"

The editor of the Herald took the Mercury in his hand as if he had been contaminated. There was a smile of contempt on his fine face. But the smile faded away, and an interested gleam came into his eyes as he read. He tossed the paper aside at length.

"Nothing very wonderful," he said. "That is precisely how I should have expected the present ruler of Asturia to behave. It's a fine scoop for Hunt, and one after his own heart. He would set the whole of Europe in a blaze to sell an extra fifty thousand papers."

"Why not? He is an American, and his aim is to make money. He has the excuse that he is not bound by any patriotic scruples. Do you believe that story?"

"It certainly has the impress of truth," Eveleigh said thoughtfully. "Hunt dare not hoax his public. The average Briton would never stand it. Besides, that's Hunt's own writing. He is perfectly certain to have taken the statement down from the royal lips."

"No doubt. Probably with the aid of a stenographer. There are no flies on Hunt, to use a pet expression of his own. Let us assume for the sake of argument that Hunt fully believes that he has had the thing from the principal actor in the drama. But all the same, he didn't. The man who dictated that statement was no more King of Asturia than I am."

Eveleigh looked up brightly. Lechmere was not in the habit of making statements that he couldn't prove.

"As a matter of fact, the king has been at Lord Merehaven's all the evening," he went on. "I left him there a little while ago. This thing has been deliberately got up by the gang of conspirators who are working here in the interests of Russia and incidentally for their own pockets. When the proper time comes I will name all these conspirators to you. I can even give you the name of the man who played the part for Hunt's benefit. They chose their people carefully, knowing that only the Mercury out of all the London journals would publish that without first consulting the Foreign Secretary. Don't you see the game? Every paper in Paris and Vienna and St. Petersburg will get a copy of that interview in extenso. It will create a perfect furore in Asturia if the lie is not most promptly contradicted. You see what I mean?"

"In the first place, that some clever actor has been playing the king?" Eveleigh asked.

"Yes. It was Countess Saens's idea in the first place. I am afraid that some of our people inspired her with the suggestion. But that is neither here nor there. That lie has to be scotched, and you are the man to do it. After all said and done, the journalistic English authority abroad is the Herald. Therefore the Herald is going to print that wild story of Hunt's to-night and comment upon the audacity of the scheme. Also, you are going to proclaim the fact that the real King of Asturia was known to be at the residence of the Foreign Secretary, Lord Merehaven, at the time when he was supposed to be betraying his private affairs to the editor of the Mercury. If I were not absolutely certain of my facts I would not ask you to do this, Eveleigh. I want you to make a big thing of this. I want you to assume that Hunt has been hoaxed, and call for the prompt punishment of the criminals. Is there time?"

"Oh, there is plenty of time," Eveleigh said thoughtfully. "No trouble on that score. And I think I can manage it. Sit down for a minute or two while I go and see my chief of staff."

Lechmere sat down fluttering over the pages of the Mercury. His restless eye wandered near the column and along the crowded advertisements. Finally his gaze stopped at the agony column. One line there arrested his attention. It was a jumbled cypher, but the training that Lechmere had had in that kind of thing enabled him to read it almost at a glance.

"I thought so," he said. "I felt absolutely certain of my man. So Peretori is in London! I might have guessed that from the first. Well, it seems to me that I am in a position to hoist these people with their own petard. So long as Peretori is not in earnest, well and good. I wonder if there is a telephone anywhere here?"

There was a telephone at the back of the editor's desk, and Lechmere promptly called up Scotland Yard in search of information. After a pause the information came, which Lechmere carefully jotted down in his pocket book. Eveleigh came back with the air of a busy man.

"I'm going to do it, Lechmere," he said. "No thanks needed: it will be a good thing for us. And now I shall be glad if you will go, as I shall be pretty busy for the next hour. I think you will be safe to leave matters in my hands."