Captain Swords smiled as he read, afterward standing for a moment, reflecting, with the note between his fingers. With the air of a man who has suddenly made up his mind, he left the antechamber, walked up the corridor past the King’s apartment and knocked lightly at the nearest door of the Chancellerie suite. Captain Mortimer promptly responded to the summons and a brief whispered conference took place between them. Then Captain Mortimer turned to Kearns and whispered: “I suppose ’twouldn’t do for me to absent myself for half an hour--to go downstairs for one dance.” “Why not?” replied Kearns. “The King hasn’t yet retired and isn’t likely to for some time. It’s certainly too early to expect anything. Go, by all means, but don’t stay too long.” Still Captain Mortimer hesitated. “I shouldn’t like by my absence to spoil any chance,” he said. “No danger,” answered Kearns; “besides, should anything happen unexpectedly, we could summon Captain Swords.” “But he’s on duty in the King’s antechamber.” “Well, we could immediately send for you to take his place.” “That would be somewhat irregular,” objected Captain Mortimer. “Go,” insisted Kearns. “You’ll be perfectly safe in doing so, provided you are back here by the time the King retires.” “Oh, long before that,” answered the Captain, and off he started for the ball-room, Captain Swords returning to his post of duty in the antechamber. On reaching the ball-room, Captain Mortimer had little difficulty in discovering Beatrice, seated between Dorothy Brandon and Baroness Maquehaye. He made his way to where they sat and, presenting himself before them, bowed. “I come under orders from Captain Swords,” he said to Beatrice, “to act as his proxy for this waltz. May I have that honor?” But the young lady looked up at him with large and mischievous eyes. “I’m so angry with Captain Swords,” she answered severely, “that I’ll not dance with him even by proxy. I’ve decided to give the waltz to Count D’Arville, of the French Legation. Ask Miss Brandon. Perhaps she may take pity on--Captain Swords’ proxy.” At these audacious words, Miss Brandon turned several colors and cast a sharp and furious glance upon Beatrice, who sat demurely looking up at the Captain. Captain Mortimer also glanced quickly at the speaker, but if the glance conveyed astonishment it certainly contained no anger. With presence of mind, he turned to Dorothy. “You’ve witnessed my discomfiture,” he said. “Won’t you take pity on me?” “As a proxy?” she asked, with an arch upward flash of the eyes. “As a proxy, or--as you will!” For answer she rose and took his arm.