“We are an instance,” he said, “of an ancient nation who has benefited by the great new power of this generation. My diplomatic appeal to the English Government would have been of no avail but for the wonderful espousal of our cause by the whole British Press. That we owe to one who has been living amongst us, and who has three times within the last few days narrowly escaped assassination by the friends of Baron Domiloff. Monsieur Gourdolis, you have your answer.”
Gourdolis remained imperturbable. He bowed to Baron Doxis, and moved towards the door. Then he faced the King.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “has a singularly dramatic knack of turning up in unexpected places and at unexpected times. May that faculty not desert you during the next few days.”
He closed the door and departed. The King rose to his feet.
“Baron Doxis,” he said, “I leave the charge of the city in your hands. I return at once to the front. There is no telegraphic communication between the headquarters of the Turkish Commander-in-Chief and Constantinople, and in any case it is well to be prepared. Countess of Reist, will you favour me for one moment?”
She led him into her own little room, and placed her hands in his.
“We are friends?” he asked.
“If your Majesty can really pardon me,” she answered, fervently, “—for always.”