pleasantry."

"Impossible, impossible!" cried the king, starting to his feet,
while a line of worry ran across his forehead. He strode about
impatiently slapping his boots with the riding stick. "It is
impossible."

"Why do you say impossible, Sire?"

"I can not permit you to put in jeopardy a quarter of a million
pounds," forgetting for the moment that he was powerless.

"Aha!" the diplomat cried briskly. "There is, then, beneath your
weariness and philosophy, a fear?"

"A fear?" With an effort the king smoothed the line from his
forehead. "Why should there be fear?"

"Why indeed, when our cousin Josef--" He stopped and looked
toward the mountains.

"Well?" abruptly.

"I was thinking what a fine coup de maitre it would be for his
Highness to gather in all these pretty slips of parchment given
under the hand of Leopold."

"Small matter if he should. I should pay him." The king sat down.
"And it is news to me that Josef can get together five millions."