“Exactly. Prince Michael is dead. Are you prepared to offer the same loan on the same terms to his cousin Nicholas?” “Can you produce him? I thought he was killed in the Congo?” “He was killed all right. I killed him. Oh, no, I’m not a murderer. When I say I killed him, I mean that I spread the report of his death. I promised you a Prince, Mr. Isaacstein. Will _I_ do?” “You?” “Yes, I’m the man. Nicholas Sergius Alexander Ferdinand Obolovitch. Rather long for the kind of life I proposed to live, so I emerged from the Congo as plain Anthony Cade.” Little Captain Andrassy sprang up. “But this is incredible—incredible,” he spluttered. “Have a care, sir, what you say.” “I can give you plenty of proofs,” said Anthony quietly. “I think I shall be able to convince the Baron here.” The Baron lifted his hand. “Your proofs I will examine, yes. But of them for me there is no need. Your word alone sufficient for me is. Besides, your English mother you much resemble. All along have I said: ‘This young man on one side or the other most highly born is’.” “You have always trusted my word, Baron,” said Anthony. “I can assure you that in the days to come I shall not forget.” Then he looked over at Superintendent Battle whose face had remained perfectly expressionless. “You can understand,” said Anthony with a smile, “that my position has been extremely precarious. Of all those in the house I might be supposed to have the best reason for wishing Michael Obolovitch out of the way, since I was the next heir to the Throne. I’ve been extraordinarily afraid of Battle all along. I always felt that he suspected me, but that he was held up by lack of motive.” “I never believed for a minute that you’d shot him, sir,” said Superintendent Battle. “We’ve got a feeling in such matters. But I knew that you were afraid of something, and you puzzled me. If I’d known sooner who you really were, I dare say I’d have yielded to the evidence, and arrested you.” “I’m glad I managed to keep one guilty secret from you. You wormed everything else out of me all right. You’re a damned good man at your job, Battle. I shall always think of Scotland Yard with respect.” “Most amazing,” muttered George. “Most amazing story I ever heard. I—I can really hardly believe it. You are quite sure, Baron, that——” “My dear Mr. Lomax,” said Anthony, with a slight hardness in his tone, “I have no intention of asking the British Foreign Office to support my claim without bringing forward the most convincing documentary evidence. I suggest that we adjourn now, and that you, the Baron, Mr. Isaacstein and myself discuss the terms of the proposed loan.” The Baron rose to his feet, and clicked his heels together. “It will be the proudest moment of my life, sir,” he said solemnly, “when I see you King of Herzoslovakia.” “Oh, by the way, Baron,” said Anthony carelessly, slipping his hand through the other’s arm, “I forgot to tell you. There’s a string tied to this. I’m married, you know.”