"You shall die for this insult!" said the king, as quietly as his hard breathing would allow. He saw flashes of red between his face and the other's.
"I have heard that before. But how?" banteringly.
"I will waive my crown; man to man!"
"Sword-sticks, sabers or hop-poles? Come," savagely, "what do you mean by the goose-girl?"
So intent on the struggle were they that neither heard the door open and close.
"Yes, my dear nephew; what do you mean by Gretchen?"
Carmichael released the king, and with feline quickness stooped and secured the pistol which had fallen to the floor. Not sure of the new arrival's purpose, he backed to the wall. He knew the voice and he recognized its owner.
"Put it in your pocket, Mr. Carmichael. And let us finish this discussion in English, since there are many ears about the place."
"His royal highness?" murmured the king.
"Yes, sire! True to life!"