It was Ormsby's painting that had particularly captivated Shirley. She
had returned to it day after day; and the thought that Armitage had taken
advantage of her deep interest in Pickett's charging gray line was
annoying, and she abruptly changed the subject.

Shirley had speculated much as to the meaning of Armitage's remark at the
carriage door in Geneva--that he expected the slayer of the old Austrian
prime minister to pass that way. Armitage had not referred to the crime
in any way in his talks with her on the _King Edward_; their
conversations had been pitched usually in a light and frivolous key, or
if one were disposed to be serious the other responded in a note of
levity.

"We're all imperialists at heart," said Shirley, referring to a talk
between them earlier in the day. "We Americans are hungry for empire;
we're simply waiting for the man on horseback to gallop down Broadway and
up Fifth Avenue with a troop of cavalry at his heels and proclaim the new
dispensation."

"And before he'd gone a block a big Irish policeman would arrest him for
disorderly conduct or disturbing the peace, or for giving a show without
a license, and the republic would continue to do business at the old
stand."

"No; the police would have been bribed in advance, and would deliver the
keys of the city to the new emperor at the door of St. Patrick's
Cathedral, and his majesty would go to Sherry's for luncheon, and sign a
few decrees, and order the guillotine set up in Union Square. Do you
follow me, Mr. Armitage?"