That no remark might escape his vigilant ears, Josef edged cautiously to the outskirts of the group now gathered around the Americans. Trusia espied him, and much against his desire haled him to the fore.
"You must make amends, sir," she prompted, though not unkindly, "for the annoyance you have caused Captain Carter."
"Your Highness," he said with a deferential bow, but unbending mind, "must accept my zeal in the cause as my justification." Trusia was much hurt at this intentional and undisguised evasion of her behest, as much on the strangers' as on her own account, so hastened to supplement such an ambiguous apology.
"Josef is indulged by us," she began deprecatingly, "because to his fidelity, loyalty and zeal, we are indebted for a royal leader for Krovitch, a man descended from our one-time kings of the day when Krovitch was great."
"But I thought," said the puzzled Carter, "that you were the only descendant of Augustus."
"I am." The little head was raised in imperial pride. "But King Stovik, though deposed, was the rightful sovereign, not my ancestor. The fugitive monarch left a scion whom Josef as a faithful servitor has attended from his infancy. Finding in recent events that the time was ripe for his crownless prince, he came to tell us that we had a king, if we dared to strike for him. He showed us proofs. We already had organization, men and money, but we sadly lacked a man for the struggle. My valorous people would have fought for me, poor as were my claims to the crown, founded on the wrong done another. Imagine how high their enthusiasm became on hearing that not only one of King Stovik's glorified stock, but a man—a young king—was to lead the ancient flag to victory. Russia, already dazed, can do nothing against the flame of my people's ardor."
"But the Almanac de Gotha," insisted Carter to whom the reference to the invisible king was a puzzling one.
"Knew nothing about King Stovik after his deposition and flight," she interrupted with a charming smile.
"Tell me the story, Your Grace," he pleaded, for he could feel instinctively that there was a story, an old world romance hidden here.
She held up a warning finger. "Be warned in time," she said, "it is a vulnerable point with me, one on which I am likely to be extremely prolix."