The old man stared as if he could not quite believe his ears; but the square-chinned, determined young face left him no doubt. His lips tightened into a hard straight line, his head sank crouching between his shoulders, his short hair seemed to rise like the ruff of an angry dog. He leaned forward--the fighting John Howard that many a man in Chicago had met and gone down before. “A declaration of war, eh?” he said in a slow guttural voice. “All right. I thought I was done for, but that puts ten more good years in me. And I think John Howard can give you all you want. Oh, it’ll be a fight, young man, a fight--and you’ll never imagine it’s anything else! And now, good-morning to you.” “I suppose it is only natural for you to take it so, uncle. I’m sorry the break----” “I think I said good-morning!” Drexel gazed a moment at the glaring, rigid old man. “Good-morning,” he said, and started for the door. But he turned about. “Pardon me. I have something of importance to tell you.” “You’ve told me enough!” He pointed to the door. “This does not concern me. It concerns you and aunt, and Alice most of all. I must speak to the three of you.” It was the look in Drexel’s face rather than his words that made his uncle summon Alice and her mother. Their exclamations of pleasure at sight of Drexel were stopped by an abrupt command. “We are no longer friends,” the old man explained to the wondering women. “Go on, Henry.” “What I’m going to tell you is God’s truth--I can prove it all if need be,” he began. And he went on to unfold the prince’s secret office and his crafty villainies. Before he was half to the end of the dark record, his uncle and his aunt were staring with white faces and Alice was bowed upon the table among the wedding gifts, sobbing and shuddering. When he finished, Alice threw herself upon her father’s breast. “Oh, I can’t marry him--never! Never!” The old man strained her to him convulsively. “There--there, my child! You shall not!” He looked in accusing wrath at Drexel. “My God, why did you wait till the very wedding-day to tell this?” he fiercely demanded. “This was my first chance.” “Well--if they were at the very altar we’d break it off!” “There is no need to break it off,” said Drexel quietly. “No need to break it off! Why?” “Because he’s dead.” “Dead!” they cried in one voice. They stared at him, blanched, astounded--and relieved. Drexel went on to tell how the prince had come by his death, telling it as something he had overheard in the dining-room, and referring only in vaguest terms to Captain Laroque. Some day he might make known his part in this daring escape, with its triple tragedy, but that day was in the far, far future. Alice again threw herself upon her father’s breast. “Take me home, father--please, please!” she begged him. He caressed her hair with tender hand. “You shall go. We will leave at once--to-day. But there’s much to be seen to--packing, tickets, passports, returning these presents.”