Immediately after tea the Archduchess rose to leave the Hungarian house, saying that she had letters to write, neglected in the morning. She had included all in the slight explanation, but as she passed Fessenden she raised her eyes irresistibly. He was looking as haughty and distant as she was attempting to feel. Again their positions were subtly reversed. “Would you like to see my new rooms?” she asked hurriedly. “I think them very charming. Perhaps you will come up with Alexandra--in an hour?” When she had gone Fessenden turned to his sister. “Wouldn’t you like to walk about the garden?” he asked. “You do not take half as much exercise as you should.” They did not walk far. As soon as they reached a rustic seat out of sight of the others, and Fessenden had made sure there were no lurking places for eavesdroppers, they sat down, and he began at once, as if pursuing aloud the current of his thoughts-- “The great uncle, Frederick William IV., of the Emperor of Germany was mad, and there has been no suggestion of insanity in the family since. That disproves not only the alternate generation theory, but that insanity is necessarily persistent.” “What on earth are you driving at?” “A good many things have kept me awake at night lately, and one of them is the uncomfortable number of lunatics in the royal and ducal families of Bavaria.” He added deliberately: “I mean that the late Empress, and her cousins, Ludvig II. and the present Otto, seem to hover ever behind the Archduchess Ranata, three black and stalking ghosts.” “I thought you knew your Europe.” “I have no time to waste in analyzing court gossip. But do you mean to say that these three were not mad?” “Elizabeth was no more mad than I am, and the other two lost their minds through specific causes. If I don’t know anything else, I know the facts about every royalty in Europe; I have been brought up on them.” “Well, explain,” said Fessenden impatiently. “And don’t let your loyalty and your imagination run away with you.”