"He began by saying the news was bad, very bad. I was sort of surprised, because I'd looked at the paper every morning, and there hasn't been a single exciting thing in it since that archduke what's-his-name was assassinated some time ago. I thought that fuss had all blown over, but Monsieur says it hasn't, and that Europe is on the verge of some tremendous upheaval. He said that that murder was only the match that would start the conflagration, or something like that. Anyhow, he ended up with these words: "'I tell you, petite mademoiselle, I have seen it coming this long, long time. Kingdoms will fall; republics will totter; the face of Europe will be changed. France, France herself, will experience a mighty upheaval! It is inevitable!'" The Imp stopped impressively, and her hearers were evidently thrilled. "What does he mean? What _can_ he mean?" she went on, her voice unconsciously rising higher and higher, "except that he's mixed up in all this. If Austria and Russia and Germany and England and France are all going to be in a big fuss, as he suggested, can't you see what a lovely opportunity it would be for him to put through this scheme about restoring the Bourbon monarchy? What else can he mean by saying, 'Republics will totter; France herself will experience a mighty upheaval'? I tell you, girls, it's time this thing was reported to the authorities. I'm sure our government could prevent it, if it only knew, and then, too, if we really care anything about Louis, we ought to protect him, even if he _is_ a royalty,--I'm sure he doesn't _want_ to be one!--from being caught in all this mix-up." "But how can we report it to the authorities?" asked Carol, in a scared voice. "I wouldn't know the first thing about how to go about it." "Then I'll tell you," announced the Imp, dramatically. "I don't believe that in so important a thing as this we ought to stop short of the very highest authority there is. I propose that we write to the President himself. And I propose that we do it this very afternoon. I've thought it all out. I've even brought along the things to do it with." True enough, she produced a fountain-pen and some notepaper. So impressed were her hearers that Sue could only quaver, in a voice that shook with nervousness: "Well, you go on and write it, Bobs. I'm sure you'll know what to say. And we'll all sign it, if you wish. Perhaps that will make it look more important. But somehow I feel as if we ought to tell Father first." "Then you'll spoil everything," declared the Imp. "He wouldn't believe it, to begin with, and by the time he was convinced it would probably be too late. No, this must go off to-night. How ought I to address the President of the United States,--'Dear Sir' or 'Your Honor' or what?" "If mademoiselle will delay this proceeding for a moment," said a strange voice with startling unexpectedness, almost at her elbow, "it may not be necessary to write the note."