“Now you’re talking,” said Anthony. “Many people who have never heard of Herzoslovakia would brighten at the mention of Count Stylptitch. The Grand Old Man of the Balkans. The Greatest Statesman of Modern Times. The biggest Villain unhung. The point of view all depends on which newspaper you take in. But be sure of this, Count Stylptitch will be remembered long after you and I are dust and ashes, James. Every move and counter move in the Near East for the last twenty years has had Count Stylptitch at the bottom of it. He’s been a dictator and a patriot and a statesman—and nobody knows exactly what he has been, except that he’s been a perfect King of intrigue. Well, what about him?” “He was Prime Minister of Herzoslovakia—that’s why I mentioned it first.” “You’ve no sense of proportion, Jimmy. Herzoslovakia is of no importance at all compared to Stylptitch. It just provided him with a birthplace and a post in public affairs. But I thought he was dead?” “So he is. He died in Paris about two months ago. What I’m telling you about happened some years ago.” “The question is,” said Anthony, “what _are_ you telling me about?” Jimmy accepted the rebuke and hastened on. “It was like this. I was in Paris—just four years ago, to be exact. I was walking along one night in rather a lonely part, when I saw half a dozen French toughs beating up a respectable-looking old gentleman. I hate a one-sided show, so I promptly butted in and proceeded to beat up the toughs. I guess they’d never been hit really hard before. They melted like snow!” “Good for you, James,” said Anthony softly. “I’d like to have seen that scrap.” “Oh, it was nothing much,” said Jimmy modestly. “But the old boy was no end grateful. He’d had a couple, no doubt about that, but he was sober enough to get my name and address out of me, and he came along and thanked me next day. Did the thing in style too. It was then that I found out it was Count Stylptitch I’d rescued. He’d got a house up by the Bois.” Anthony nodded. “Yes, Stylptitch went to live in Paris after the assassination of King Nicholas. They wanted him to come back and be President later, but he wasn’t taking any. He remained sound to his Monarchical principals, though he was reported to have his finger in all the backstairs pies that went on in the Balkans. Very deep, the late Count Stylptitch.” “Nicholas IV was the man who had a funny taste in wives, wasn’t he?” said Jimmy suddenly.