"I trust you will pardon the length of my tale. I do not wish to bore you."
"Please go on, General, I am much interested," I hastened to assure him.
"In our country, Dr. Wharton, it is still the custom to notify the peasantry of the birth of a castle child by ringing the tower bell, and, in the event of a male, to proclaim the sex by five strokes of the tongue, and in the event of a female by seven. The news is then carried by word of mouth and so spreads over the country.
"On the night the stork brought its precious burden to Dhalmatia I was playing chess, if I remember correctly, with my great friend, Nicholas' father, in his library, when we heard the brass bell of Dhalmatia give voice. With the fate of even more than the future king in the balance, we forgot our game in our intense interest, counting the strokes.
"'One; two; three; four; five; six—'tis a girl,' said Nick's father, much relieved, for he shared my dislike for the 'Red Fox,' and was pleased that the succession would not go to Dhalmatia. There were other reasons why we were delighted with the failure of the 'Red Fox's' hopes, but they were locked in our breasts by the events which followed. Scarcely had the bell completed its toll of seven, when to our astonishment it began again.
"'One; two; three; four; five,' we both counted aloud, looking into each other's eyes over the table between.
"'Five,' we shouted, springing to our feet and scattering the chessmen broadcast.
"'A boy at Dhalmatia?' I cried, scarcely believing my ears.
"'Is he playing with us?' said my friend. 'By the first ring he tells us it is a girl, and then he changes his mind and it is a boy?'
"'Let us solve this mystery at once,' I suggested.