“Your Royal Highness did not mention to me this afternoon that he was dining with Mr. Edestone tonight,” he drew himself up stiffly. And it was in his mind that, on the contrary, His Royal Highness had inveighed against the American inventor as a fraud and a fakir, and had loudly urged that no attention be paid to him or his claims. Neither did Colonel Stewart forget that certain ugly whispers had been in circulation regarding the loyalty of these two high-born Englishmen with the Teutonic names. What did it mean, then, when he found them here in the apartment of a man practically known as a German agent, and in conference with the possessor of the secret which Germany was seeking so eagerly to obtain? Whatever his suspicions, though, he said nothing further at the time, but turned to Edestone. “I am sorry to disturb you, Mr. Edestone, but His Majesty, the King, has ordered that certain messages be delivered to you without delay, and I should appreciate it, if you would give me a few minutes of your time.” Then, when Edestone, after requesting Rebener’s permission, had withdrawn with him into the salon, he explained that the King had instructed Sir Egbert Graves to call the following morning at nine o’clock and to state the decision of the Government in answer to the inventor’s proposition. “Will that hour be convenient to you?” asked the Colonel. “Perfectly,” Edestone assented. Then on an impulse, he added: “I do not leave for the Continent until eleven.” The Equerry extended his hand. “In that case, I shall probably not see you again. Good-bye, Mr. Edestone; I trust you will have a pleasant journey and good luck when you reach Berlin.” It was evident that he was not to be detained. He was in no sense a prisoner, but free to go or stay as he chose. With a smile of gratification, he responded to Colonel Stewart’s parting salute, and returned to the dining-room. There he found the two discomfited members of the nobility just taking their leave; while Rebener, his earlier ill-humour put aside, was playing the rather too strenuous host, and with his flushed face and over-loud manner urging them to stay and “have another.” Wouldn’t they try one of his wonderful cigars? Just one pony of his marvellous brandy? But His Royal Highness, pale as death, was bent on getting away, and turned a deaf ear to all these hospitable suggestions; and although “Mr. Karlbeck” did consent to gulp down a large glass of Rebener’s very fine brandy, he immediately hurried off in the wake of his royal associate. Edestone left almost immediately, and his “guard of honour,” to which he was getting quite accustomed by this time, having been duly assembled, he was escorted back to the hotel and a sleepy-eyed James. CHAPTER XVIII IN THE HANDS OF THE GERMANS