“Still,” said Caerleon, “we are not the best judges, Cyril. If M. Drakovics, who is better acquainted with Thracia than we are, thinks that it will be more serviceable to the country to delay the coronation, I have no objection.” “That’s all very well,” thought Cyril. “You are calculating that in a month or two you ought to be able to break down Miss O’Malachy’s scruples. I am sorry to be under the painful necessity of putting a spoke in your wheel, my dear fellow.” “If your Majesty is pleased to delay the coronation,” said M. Drakovics, “may I ask you to visit the Hôtel de Ville with me this morning? The people have been gathering together from all the country round to witness the ceremony, and it will be necessary to explain to them what has occurred. There is another thing I was anxious to know. Your Majesty mentioned a few days ago that your brother had some idea of offering himself as your private secretary. I see that correspondence is already beginning to pour in, and as the office is a very delicate and important one, I venture to ask whether Milord Cyril is still in the same mind?” “M. Drakovics means me to earn my board and lodging,” said Cyril, who was conscious of a grudge against the statesman for rejecting his counsel. “I am quite sure that M. Drakovics means nothing of the kind,” said Caerleon, sharply. “He knows very well that you are here as my guest.” “As the guest of the nation, if I may be permitted to correct your Majesty,” said M. Drakovics. “Thracia owes far too much to your family not to desire to see as many of its members as possible. My reason for asking this question to-day is that Milord Cyril has displayed such a talent for diplomacy that I am anxious not to lose his co-operation in the work I have in hand at present. His one fault is that, like all young diplomats, he wishes to begin, as you say in England, at the top of the tree, and in this he does himself an injustice, for his forte lies rather in working in combination with others than in isolated action, if he will allow me to say so.” “Well, Cyril, the bitter pill is pretty well gilded,” said Caerleon, laughing. “What do you say? Will you take the situation?” “I suppose I should have to read all your letters,” said Cyril. “That sounds fairly interesting. Then I should have to write the answers--not quite so delightful, but still passable. Yes; I’ll take it.” “If your Majesty will permit me, I will give Milord Cyril a few hints as to the duties of this new position,” said M. Drakovics. “Very well,” returned Caerleon. “I am going to stroll round to the stables, Cyril. When your initiation is complete, you’ll find me there.” “Now,” said Cyril, closing the door on his brother, and turning to M. Drakovics, “I want to know what you expect to gain by putting off the coronation in this way. You are giving the Scythians and their sympathisers a gratuitous triumph, and losing time, which is of inestimable value. If you have a reason, why keep it a secret?”