“For instance,” Cyril went on, “here is a long screed from Forfar, writing, as he says, not as leader of the party, but as a personal friend of Caerleon’s. That’s all very well; but it’s quite evident that the letter is a private warning from him and the Duke----” “What Duke?” asked M. Drakovics. “His brother-in-law, the Duke of Old Sarum, of course,” said Cyril, impatiently. “He entreats Caerleon to withdraw from Thracia immediately, and hints how very painful it would be for the Government to be forced to take action against him. He says that he has broken through strict official usage in sending him this friendly warning, and earnestly trusts he will accept it. After this they must act as they find necessary, and he will have to take the consequences. That last little touch of menace is the Duke’s, I know.” “And what does the King say? Will he take the advice proffered by all these old friends and kind people?” asked M. Drakovics, anxiously. “Rather not!” laughed Cyril. “He means to stick to you and Thracia. No; there’s only one thing that would uproot him, I think. If Forfar and the Duke had the sense to get a certain Person to write to him and request him as a favour to abdicate, and not to imperil the peace of Europe----” “I see,” said M. Drakovics, “you mean the----” “There is no need to mention names,” said Cyril. “I merely say that I am afraid Caerleon’s chivalry would incline him to follow the advice of a Person in such a position, and with so much experience.” “But have they tried the expedient?” asked M. Drakovics, looking anxiously at the heap of papers on the table, as though he expected the letter of the Illustrious Personage to arrive by the ordinary post, bearing a 2½d. stamp. “Not they!” said Cyril. “A bold, picturesque dash like that is quite undreamt of in their philosophy. But I will tell you what I have here--two more warnings. One is from a man who was at Pavelsburg with me. This is what he says: ‘Dear Cill, _Que diable fait ton frère dans cette galère_? If you will take a straight tip, get him out of it as quickly as you can. I say this for auld lang syne.’ The other is from Mrs Sadleir--not a letter, simply a sentence underlined in one of these precious newspapers--‘If he is wise, the so-called King will do his best to obtain recognition from Roum as soon as possible.’” “Exactly,” said M. Drakovics, with a ghastly smile, “and my news this morning is that there is a hitch in our negotiations with Roum. Our agent at Czarigrad has been refused an audience, while a special Scythian mission was received with peculiar warmth.” “Ah!” said Cyril, “and if the recognition is refused, you are a rebel, and Caerleon and I are filibusters. Decidedly, in such a case as this, nothing succeeds _but_ success. _Allons_, monsieur! we are all in the same boat, and we may as well stick to the ship. It is possible that the Grand Signior was only trying to put Scythia off the scent. If it is so, we shall see. If not----”