"MY DEAR COUSIN:
"His Majesty has told me of the meeting in the Library this morning. I know I have no right to meddle—but, won't you please accept and come back to your own? The King wants you. We shall welcome you with all our hearts. Come, Armand!
"DEHRA."
I read it slowly a second time—and then a third time—wondering, the while, whether I should show it to Courtney.
"You know who wrote this?" I asked.
"I know who wrote the address."
"Then know the note, also," said I, and read it to him.
His face was quite expressionless as I read; but, at the end, he gave the faintest nod of approval. "If that does not hold you to the task, you are——" he stopped. "God, Sir! You ought to be proud to be her cousin," he ended.
I spent the balance of the day arranging the affairs of my office, to the end that I could instantly sever all official relations with the American Government, and, so assume my new rank with the least possible embarrassment to Courtney. He would, doubtless, find it unfortunate enough to have, as a Royal Archduke, one who but lately was his Military Attaché, and familiar with much of his policy and purpose. I said as much to him that evening, as we rode toward the Summer Palace, but he laughed it off.
"Embarrass me!" he exclaimed. "I shall be the most envied of the Ambassadors; sought after by all the Court for a word to my friend, the new Archduke—'that may be King hereafter.'"
"Don't," said I; "it's likely to be quite bad enough without calling on Macbeth's Witches."
He leaned over and put his hand on my arm. "Brace up, old chap," he said; "there's no boiling caldron and no witches."