"Most noble patriot," he answered softly, "most courteous statesman, no doubt the English can be gulled into a belief that the Russian Emperor came secretly and at night, and behaved in an unseemly and ridiculous manner. They would even believe that I danced on your terrace by moonlight. Proof would at once appear that I never left my house at Pera, and the mad Chancellor would become the laughing-stock of Europe. Consider the cartoons!" Ulster sank back into his chair, and his face writhed, for the most heroic are unarmed against ridicule. "Moreover," the Emperor smiled, "already a copy of the documents I have shown you has been placed by an Englishman in the hands of the editor of the _Times_--sealed, and awaiting my orders. In these papers there is no reference to Russia, only to certain transactions between Prince Ali and his Grace the Duke of Ulster. Russia does not appear in such affairs of bribery, fraud, and betrayal. After the Chancellor's disgrace, and shameful end, the Germans and the French will make declaration of war, will be joined by Russia, and this country swept from the map of Europe which it has marred too long. The British Empire will be divided among the allies. I have offered to give you back your life, and the immortal fame of saving your country. Refuse, and I give you to shame and death, the British Empire to destruction. Of course, if you want my mercy, you will apologize first for insulting me." The Emperor stood up and waved his hand. "I have called my yacht," he said not unkindly. "I give you this minute to surrender." Far up in the heavens a white light flashed like a star, and from the great spaces of the night, a shadow swooped down, winged, swift, instantly growing gigantic against the moon, then gleaming in her rays. The Chancellor watched spellbound, and as he watched the terror seized his brain, the doom of a great Empire, condemned to this death, abandoned by God. Then the agony of a broken man rang out in one great cry, "I have surrendered!" and the echoes of walls and trees heard him, and answered. II THE MASTER OF LYONESSE When on the terrace of Ulster House, Nicholas of Russia dealt heavily with the Chancellor to his ruin, one witness was so placed that he heard all. The witness was the Duke of Ulster's son, James, Marquess of Sydney. It is a very pleasant thing to hold this gentleman in memory, to think of him as he was in life, and at that time in the thirtieth year of his age. He was a tall man, nervous rather than strong, his face very fair and comely. In habit he was lean, bronzed with the sun; in bearing most knightly and courteous; in manner a little cynical with a grave humour. But that tells nothing of the quality in his eyes, and in his smile, which made one love and trust him. None of the pictures or statues to his memory do justice to that wonderful quality of the man, nor can a written word call back the charm.