I stammered an apology and stepped out. Then I heard a low laugh.

"Good night, Mr. Hillars; you are a brave gentleman!"

The door closed and the vehicle sped away into the darkness.

I stood looking after it, bewildered. Her last words were spoken in
pure English.

With the following evening came the dinner; and I as a guest, a
nervous, self-conscious guest, who started at every footstep. I was
presented to the King, who eyed me curiously. Seeing that I wore a
medal such as his Chancellor gives to men who sometimes do his country
service, he spoke to me and inquired how I had obtained it. It was an
affair similar to the Balkistan; only there was not an army, but a mob.
The Princess was enchanting. I grew reckless, and let her read my eyes
more than once; but she pretended not to see what was in them. At
dinner a toast was given to his Majesty. It was made with those steins
I showed you, Jack.

The Princess said softly to me, kissing the rim of the stein she held:
"My toast is not to the King, but to the gentleman!" I had both steins
bundled up and left with the host, together with my address.

It was not long after that the eventful moment for our flight arrived.
I knew that I was basely to abuse the hospitality of the King. But
what is a King to a man in love? Presently we two were alone in the
garden, the Princess and myself. She was whispering instructions,
telling me that I was a man of courage.