Peretori gave way to a fit of silent laughter. Born comedian that he was, he fully appreciated the comedy of the situation. He did not need anyone to tell him why Hunt was here. But there was a serious side to the matter too, and the prince was not blind to that. Hunt pushed his way into the dining-room with the air of a man who is quite at home with his surroundings and put up the lights. As Annette disappeared up the stairs, Peretori fumbled his way to the telephone and gave Lechmere a whispered call. He had an idea that he would be in need of assistance presently, and the sooner it came the better. Then he felt that he could stand there in the dark and watch the interesting development of events.

Annette came tripping down the stairs again presently with a look of astonishment on her face. She found Hunt fuming about in the dining-room. He turned upon her sharply.

"Well?" he asked. "You have aroused your mistress? I trust that she will not keep me long."

"But it is impossible that she should do anything else, M'sieu," Annette protested. "I told you that my mistress had gone to bed. I had been out late to-night myself, and there were things to do after I came in. That is why I was ready to answer your ring. I say the countess was asleep under the profound impression that such was the fact. I go to wake my mistress, and behold she is not in bed at all!"

"What does it matter so long as she gets my message?" Hunt asked impatiently.

"But she does not get your message, M'sieu," Annette protested. "She is not there. The countess is not in the house at all. I recollect now that when I respond to your ring the front door is not fastened. It is plain to me that my mistress is not in."

Hunt's reply was more forcible than polite. Annette's face flamed with anger.

"It seems the fashion at present for everybody to say to me that I am a liar," she cried. "I tell you again that my mistress is not in the house. You can wait if you like, and I will not go to bed till she come in. There is no more to be said for the present, M'sieu."

And Annette walked away with her head in the air. There was the sound of shuffling feet in the hall presently as Robert was smuggled out of the house, and Annette retired to her dignified retreat in the small back room. She had hardly regained it before the hall door opened and the countess came in. Annette, with an air of wounded dignity, proclaimed all that had recently taken place. As the light flashed on the face of the countess, Peretori could see that she was visibly disturbed.

"Go to bed, Annette," she exclaimed. "I will see this gentleman who comes at so strange a time."

The countess passed into the dining-room, and as she did so Peretori saw the handle of the front door turn very quietly, and Lechmere crept into the house. He stood motionless just for a moment, then Peretori stepped out of the little room where he was listening and beckoned to him.

"Come in here," he whispered. "I sent for you because I have an idea that I shall require your assistance a little later on. Hunt is in the dining room. Ah, the quarrel has begun!"

"I tell you I have been fooled," Hunt was saying passionately. "Fooled like a child. You promised me that you would manage that the Mercury should contain an interview with the King of Asturia."

"Well? Did I fail in my promise? Did I not send the king to you in a condition when he was prepared to say or do anything? Won't it be all there to-morrow morning?"

"It is all there now," Hunt said with a groan. "Already the country editions of the paper are on the train. A large proportion of the town impressions have gone out also. And you have fooled me purposely."

"What is the man talking about?" the countess cried impatiently. "Anyone would think that I had some object——"

"In making a fool of me. So you have, if I could only understand the reason. As a matter of fact, I have been hoaxed in the most shameless manner possible. The man who came to me was an impostor, a fraud, an actor, and you knew it. When the whole story comes to be told my paper will be ruined, and I shall be laughed out of London. The real King of Asturia——"

"The man is mad!" the countess cried. "The real King of Asturia was with you to-night."

"It is utterly false, and you know it. You are playing this thing off on me for your own ends. I have just had it from the same source that the real King of Asturia, accompanied by Captain Alexis and another gentleman, have left for Dover by a special train an hour ago en route for Asturia. The information came to me from a lady journalist who actually saw the departure from Charing Cross. The lady in question makes no mistakes. I have never known her to be wrong. What have you to say to this?"

For once in her life Countess Saens was absolutely nonplussed. In the face of this information it was utterly impossible to keep up the present fraud any longer.

"So you have got the best of me?" she laughed. "It was a daring thing to do, but I thought that it would pass muster. It cost me a thousand guineas into the bargain. Mind you, I had not the slightest idea that the king would take such strong measures as these, and I am obliged by your priceless information. Now, what can I do to put matters right?"

Hunt made the best of a bad bargain. As a matter of fact he was not quite blameless in the matter.

"Those papers," he said. "Get me those papers. I dare say I can bluff the matter through. We can suggest that somebody is personating the real king. But I must have those papers."

"Ay, if we could only get them!" the countess said between her teeth. "We have clever people to deal with, and you may thank the way I have been fooled to-night for the suggestion of the way in which I have done my best to damage the cause of Asturia. But I am on the track now, and I am going to get to the bottom of it. The first thing to-morrow morning I shall go to Charing Cross Hospital."

"What for?" Hunt growled. "You are talking in enigmas so far as I am concerned."

"Never mind. The enigma will explain itself in good time. I tell you that you shall have those papers. I'm sorry for the trick I played on you to-night, but there is a great stake in my hands. It never occurred to me that the enemy would play so bold a game."

"You hear that?" Lechmere said to his companion. "Now whatever scheme you have in your mind, my dear prince, it must be abandoned to the certainty that the Countess Saens does not go to the hospital at Charing Cross to-morrow. You have a pretty good idea of how things stand, and I look to you to prevent that. Can you possibly manage it?"

Peretori whispered something reassuring. If Lechmere would stay here for a time and watch over the progress of events, he might be able to manage it. Lechmere expressed himself as ready to do anything that was required.

"Very well," Peretori replied. "I am going to slip away for a time. I shall be back in ten minutes at the outside. But don't leave the house, because we have business here later on. There will be a real danger and peril before us presently."

Lechmere nodded in his turn as Peretori stole softly away. The murmur of voices from the dining-room was still going on. The conversation had grown desultory.

"I repeat, I am sorry for the trick I had to play you to-night," the countess was saying. "But you have only to stick to your guns and stand out for the genuineness of your interview. Under ordinary circumstances it would have passed muster. But what possessed the king to take that decided step? I understood that his nerve was gone. I had it from a sure source that he never dared set foot in Asturia again. And to have gone off in that determined manner! What does it mean?"

Lechmere could have answered that question, as he smilingly told himself. He could tell from the sound of the voices that Hunt was getting nearer and nearer to the door. Presently the pair emerged into the hall. It was fully a quarter of an hour now since Peretori had departed, and Lechmere was getting anxious. At the same moment there was a knock at the door so sharp and sudden that the countess started, as did her companion. The former opened the door.

Just for a moment Lechmere craned his neck to see. But all he noted was a district messenger boy, who handed an envelope to the countess and profferred his pencil for a receipt. The door closed, and the countess tore open the envelope eagerly.

"A thick envelope," she said. "Merely my name printed on it in large letters. What have we here? A visiting card with the name of the Duchess of Dinon on it. That is the nom de plume adopted by the Queen of Asturia when travelling. Ah, here is the gist of it! Listen:

"'Meet me to-morrow night Hotel Bristol, Paris, at 9 o'clock. Ask for Mr. Conway. Am watched. Am anxious to escape. Do not fail me. Erno.'"

The countess waved the little slip of parchment in triumph over her head. "From the king!" she said. "From the king to me. He desires to escape, and that plays my game. Give me the time-table that is on the hall table behind you."