To the Savoy we went, a company of four. Regnier wished to get back into the world and to learn of the state of his affairs. We were anxious to get back to New York by the first steamer we could reach. I was especially anxious, for Dorothy had agreed, after much urging, to marry me a month after we reached New York. There were no relatives to hinder, and Tom, good old chap, seemed almost as glad of our approaching marriage as ourselves. I wanted to get back for another reason, too. I had been too long out of the writing game, and I felt that I could not afford to lose the momentum which my work with regard to the man who stopped all war had given me. So we secured passage on a boat leaving Liverpool three days after we reached London. The day before we sailed, I found a letter in my mail with the royal arms. It was an invitation to James Orrington, Esq., to be present at the mustering out of the last regiments of the British army in Hyde Park that morning. “We’ll go,” said Dorothy. As she spoke, a waiter came to my side. “Gentleman to see you, sir.” I smiled as I rose. “That’s not so thrilling a message now, sweetheart, as it has been any time these last months.” Outside in the corridor was a gentleman of rather distinguished appearance, whom I had not seen before. “Mr. James Orrington?” he said inquiringly. I responded affirmatively. “I am Sir Arthur Braithwaite, one of the King’s equerries,” he said. “He sent you this by me,” and he handed me a package and withdrew. I turned away to find Tom and Dorothy just passing. I showed them the package. “Come up to my rooms,” said Dorothy eagerly. “We’ll open it there. This is just like getting Christmas presents.” The outer layers off showed a square white box. I pressed the spring. Within lay a golden cigarette case. Its top held an inscription in exquisitely carved letters. “To James Orrington, Esquire. He served the State before Himself.” I lifted the case from its bed. Below was a brief note in the King’s own hand. Beside the address and signature, it bore these words: “I have never forgotten the service you did to England, to the world, and to me.” I looked up. Dorothy’s eyes were veiled in a mist of tears. She came to me and kissed me. “Dear, I’m so glad, so proud of every bit of recognition. You deserve all of it,” and Tom wrung my hand with his old numbing grip, crying, “Bully for you, old man. That’s the first bit of furniture for the new house.”