“It is not a letter,” I said. “It is a card. It is from Monsieur Maurice.”

“And who is Monsieur Maurice?” asked the King.

“So please your Majesty,” said my father, answering the question for me, “Monsieur Maurice is the prisoner I hold in charge.”

The smile went out of the King's face.

“The prisoner!” he repeated, inquiringly. “What prisoner?”

“The state-prisoner whom I received, according to your Majesty's command, eight months ago—Monsieur Maurice.”

“Monsieur Maurice!” echoed the King.

“I know the gentleman by no other name, please your Majesty,” said my father.

The King looked grave.

“I never heard of Monsieur Maurice,” he said, “I know of no state-prisoner here.”