"But five millions of crowns--two hundred and fifty thousand
pounds!" The minister could not compose himself. "This is a
vast sum of money. We expected not an individual, but a
syndicate, to accept our securities, to become debtors to the
various banks on the continent. But a personal affair! Five
millions of crowns! The possibilities of your wealth overwhelm
me."

The Englishman smiled. "I dare say I have more than my share of
this world's goods. I can give you a check for the amount on the
bank of England."

"Your Majesty's lamented predecessor--"

"Is dead," said the king gently. He had no desire to hear the
minister recount that ruler's virtues. "Peace to his ashes."

"Five millions of crowns!" The minister had lost his equipoise
in the face of the Englishman's great riches, of which hitherto
he had held some doubts. Suddenly a vivid thought entered his
confused brain. The paper cutter in his hand trembled. In the
breathing space allowed him he began to calculate rapidly. The
king and the diplomat had been in the garden; something had
passed between them. What? The paper cutter slowly ceased its
uneven movements. The count calmly placed it behind the inkwells.
. . . . The Englishman knew. The glitter of gold gave way to
the thought of the peril. A chasm yawned at his feet. But he was
an old soldier in the game of words and cross-purposes.

"We should be happy to accord you the privilege of becoming the