was dressed for travel. He sat down and penned a note. From the box
which contained the order he extracted a large envelope heavily sealed.
This he balanced in his hand for a moment, frowned, laughed, and swore
softly. He would abdicate, but at a snug profit. Why not? . . . He
was an old fool. Into a still larger envelope he put the sealed
envelope and his own note, then wrote upon it. He was blotting it as
his daughters entered.

"Come here, my pretty cubs." He held out the envelope. "I want you,
Kit, to open this on December thirty-first, at midnight. Girls like
mysteries, and if you opened it any time but midnight it wouldn't be
mysterious. Indeed, I shall probably have you both on the arms of my
chair when you open it."

"Is it about the medal?" demanded Winnie.

"By George, Kit, the child is beginning to reason out things," he
jested.

Winnie laughed, and so did Kathlyn, but she did so because occultly she
felt that her father expected her to laugh. She was positively uncanny
sometimes in her perspicacity.

"On December thirty-first, at midnight," she repeated. "All right,
father. You must write to us at least once every fortnight."

"I'll cable from Singapore, from Ceylon, and write a long letter from
Allaha. Come on. We must be off. Ahmed is waiting."

Some hours later the two girls saw the Pacific Mail steamer move with