“Hef I gifen you reasson to say det?” asked the Chevalier, with real dignity. “Because I lament my country in peril, must I hef lost sight off my frient? It iss de Queen det hess told me de frightful noose. Ah, dere iss a woman! de Count hess much left still since he hess her. She dessired to point out to me de risk. You see it? Efery nation and efery statesman hess somethink against him. He hess played dem all off against one anoder, and only his wits hef safed him again and again. Now he iss powerless, and when dey find it out, dey will come about him like birds off prey. A week ago de influence off de Syndicate, exerted through me, would hef presserfed him from all annoyance, but now de Syndicate iss split in two. Until we discofer how far de disaffection extends, I dare not trust efen my broders. Your master must not remain here, nor would he be safe in Europe--efen in America. De Queen propoces det immediately upon deir merrich dey shell go to dis estate off hers in de desert, where dey will be in safety until efents hef defeloped demselfs. We shell soon see what frients he hess left. I need not ask wheder you are true. Do me de fafour to beliefe det I am so also, efen dough my nation hess profed ungrateful to its benefector.” “I am sorry,” said Mansfield. “I had no business to say what I did.” “Det iss well. Trust me, and help me to do what I can for him, det iss all I ask.” He went away, and Mansfield took Mr Forfar’s letter out of his pocket again. “This settles it!” he said, and sitting down at the table, dashed off a grateful refusal of the Prime Minister’s offer. As soon as it was finished, he went out and posted it. Having thus burnt his boats and cut himself off from every hope of Philippa, he felt that he had done all that could be expected of him, and owed himself a reward. It is needless to say that the reward took the shape of a sight of Philippa, and when he had dutifully attended Cyril to the Queen’s house in the afternoon, he betook himself forthwith to the Caerleons’ rooms in Spyridion’s hotel, where he was able to watch Philippa pouring out tea, and to luxuriate in absolute misery. The excitement of the night before had left Philippa white and tired, and her hand shook as she lifted the teapot, but Mansfield decided that her exhaustion was due to the mental struggle she must have undergone before she could bring herself to contemplate marrying King Michael, and he steeled his heart against her. Her father attributed her obvious unhappiness to a very different cause, and when Mansfield took his leave he walked a little way with him. “I suppose you heard nothing from Forfar by the mail, Mansfield?” he asked. “I saw him just before we left England, and he hinted that Jowell would probably go to the India Office, so that he would soon need a new assistant secretary.” “Yes, I heard from him,” replied Mansfield, his heart beginning to beat with uncomfortable speed, “and he offered me the post. But I refused it.”