"Oh, I can draw it, Colonel, and when I do I guarantee you'll find no
rust on it. Come," and Carmichael held out his hand amicably, "Gretchen
is already in love with one of her kind. Let the child be in peace.
What! Is not the new ballerina enough conquest? They are all talking
about it."

"Good night, Herr Carmichael!" The colonel, ignoring the friendly hand,
saluted stiffly, wheeled abruptly, and left Carmichael staring rather
stupidly at his empty hand.

"Well, I'm hanged! All right," with a tilt of the shoulders. "One enemy
more or less doesn't matter. I'm not afraid of anything save this fool
heart of mine. If he says an ill word to Gretchen, and I hear of it,
I'll cane the blackguard, for that's what he is at bottom. Well, I was
looking for trouble, and here it is, sure enough."

He saw a carriage coming along. He recognized the white horse as it
passed the lamps. He stood still for a space, undecided. Then he sped
rapidly toward the side gates of the royal gardens. The vehicle stopped
there. But this time no woman came out. Carmichael would have recognized
that lank form anywhere. It was the chancellor. Well, what of it?
Couldn't the chancellor go out in a common hack if he wanted to? But who
was the lady in the veil?

"I've an idea!"

As soon as the chancellor disappeared, Carmichael hailed the coachman.

"Drive me through the gardens."