If their demands were refused, Alec might find himself a prisoner, and the country would be plunged into a revolution. Under different conditions, he would gladly have measured his wits and his popularity against the triumvirate. A call to arms would win him the support of the great majority of the troops and of nearly all the younger officers. But a fight for a throne to which he had no claim was not to be thought of; yet he was adamant in his resolve not to advance the schemes of these rogues by any written statement.
He handed the note to Beaumanoir with a quiet laugh. "There you have the story in a nutshell," he said. "A few minutes ago I became aware that I am not Prince Michael's son. Although I strove to act fairly, my worthy stepfather is not content. He thinks to force my hand, because he fears the republican idea; but I may best him yet.
"Where is Monsieur Nesimir?" he said to the servant, to whom the English conversation was a sealed book.
"In his apartments, I believe, your Majesty."
"Have instructions been given for mounted orderlies to be in readiness?"
"I heard his Excellency Prince Michael say something of the sort to the officer of the guard, your Majesty."
The random shot had told. Alec felt that he was spinning a coin with fortune.
"That is right," he said coolly. "Give my compliments to Monsieur Beliani, and ask him to oblige me by coming here for a moment; Prince Michael and Count Marulitch, too. Tell all three that I am ready to attend at once to the matter mentioned in Monsieur Beliani's note."
The servant disappeared. Beaumanoir, who, of course, did not understand the instructions given to the man, was fumigating Beliani's letter with rapid puffs of smoke, and incidentally scratching the back of his right ear.
"Rum go this, Alec!" he began.