"Why do you call me that?"
"Certainly I do not utter it as a compliment," retorted Carmichael dryly.
"You speak positively."
"With absolute authority on the subject, sire. Your face was familiar, but I failed at first to place it rightly. It was only after you had duped me into going after the veiled lady that I had any real suspicion. You are Frederick Leopold of Jugeudheit."
"I shall not deny it further," proudly. "And take care how you speak to me, since I admit my identity."
"Oho!" Carmichael gave rein to his laughter. "This is Ehrenstein; here I shall talk to you as I please."
The king reddened, and his hand closed again over the pistol.
"I have saved your majesty twice from death. You force me to recall it to your mind."
The king had the grace to lower his eyes.
"The first time was at Bonn. Don't you recollect the day when an American took you out of the Rhine, an American who did not trouble himself to come round and ask for your thanks, who, in truth, did not learn till days after what an important person you were, or were going to be?" There was a bite in every word, for Carmichael felt that he had been ill-treated.