and not coffee, which would have been much more difficult to manage. The benedictine looked just as usual, except that I could just distinguish a very slight--almost imperceptible--cloudiness about the glass at my end of the tray.” “But why not have taken the other, and so forced on an explanation?” demanded Usk, who had become interested in the recital in spite of himself. “Because that was what I particularly wished not to do. My idea was to make Gregorescu think I had taken the poison, and so gull him into keeping a less strict watch on me. He would not venture to repeat the experiment unless he was quite sure I had tricked him, for a second dose would kill any man living, and I was pretty certain they did not want me to die on their hands. For one thing, it would look bad if the matter came out; for another, it would spoil the full effect of the Princess of Dardania’s revenge. So I took up the glass and sipped it quite calmly, to all appearance--only, instead of swallowing any of the liqueur, I poured it down my sleeve a drop at a time, by a turn of the wrist, when I raised the glass to my lips. He did not dare to watch me very closely while I drank, lest I should suspect something, and I am thankful to say my nerve lasted until the glass was empty. I thought then it was about the stiffest piece of acting I had ever been driven to. If I had known that I had to carry it on for three months! Afterwards I spoke a little thickly, and let him help me to my room. He was watching for the symptoms, and was quite satisfied, but early in the morning he very nearly had me. Poor Paschics, of course, knew nothing of the whole affair. He was imprisoned somewhere by himself, but in the morning they left his door open, and he crept along the passage to find me. I saw him standing over me with his finger on his lips when I woke, and I was just going to explain things to him when it struck me that his being allowed to be there was suspicious, and I pretended not to know him. It was heartbreaking to see the state he was in, but I persisted, and it was well I did, for Gregorescu was spying on us the whole time. I found out his spy-hole afterwards. He thought it was all right then, and came and had poor Paschics taken away, apologising to me for his intrusion. I looked as puzzled as I could, and when I got up did my best to make it clear that my mind was a blank--that I did not know Gregorescu himself, or where I was, or who I was, or anything that had happened. For the first day or two he used to try to catch me out, starting subjects suddenly, or asking questions, and it’s just a chance that the strain didn’t make me as mad as he thought I was. But when he felt pretty sure of the vacuum, he began to fill it after a fashion by suggestion. I was Prince Shishman Pelenko, and I was gradually fitted with a past to match the name--all hinted most carefully, and wedged into my mind, so to speak, by leading questions. It was horribly cleverly done, and when