And when they searched his open trunk for something that might
identify the body on the bed, they found the crown of Trinidad.

You can imagine it: the mean hotel bedroom, the military figure
with its white face and mustache, "_a la_ Louis Napoleon," at rest
upon the pillow, the startled drummers and chambermaids peering
in from the hall, and the landlord, or coroner, or doctor, with a
bewildered countenance, lifting to view the royal crown of gilt and
velvet.

The other actors in this, as Harold Frederic called it, "Opera
Bouffe Monarchy," are still living.

The Baroness Harden-Hickey makes her home in this country.

The Count de la Boissiere, ex-Minister of Foreign Affairs, is still a
leader of the French colony in New York, and a prosperous
commission merchant with a suite of offices on Fifty-fourth Street.
By the will of Harden-Hickey he is executor of his estate, guardian
of his children, and what, for the purpose of this article, is of more
importance, in his hands lies the future of the kingdom of
Trinidad. When Harden-Hickey killed himself the title to the
island was in dispute. Should young Harden-Hickey wish to claim
it, it still would be in dispute. Meanwhile, by the will of the First
James, De la Boissiere is appointed perpetual regent, a sort of
"receiver," and executor of the principality.

To him has been left a royal decree signed and sealed, but blank.
In the will the power to fill in this blank with a statement showing