thing his Majesty holds is offered to them, how long, think you, will it be before all Mauravania knows that it is an imitation?  Look you,” waxing suddenly vicious, “I’ll make it shorter still, the time you have to strive.  Monsieur le Comte, take this message to his Majesty from me:  If in three days he does not promise to accede to my demands and give me a public proof of it over his royal seal, I leave Mauravania—­the pearl and letter leave with me, and they shall not come back until I return with them for the coronation.”

“For the love of God, madame,” said the Count, “don’t make it harder still.  Oh, wait, wait, I beseech you!”

“Not an hour longer than I have now said!” she flung back at him.  “I have waited until I am tired of it, and my patience is worn out.  Three days, Count; three days, monsieur with the puppy dog; three days, and not an instant longer, do you hear?”

“Quite enough, madame,” replied Cleek, with a courtly bow, “I promise to have them in two!”

She threw back her head and fairly shook with laughter.

“Of a truth, monsieur, you are a candid boaster!” she cried.  “Look you, my good fellows, and you too, my poor dumb Clopin, pretty monsieur here will have the letter and the pearl in two days’ time.  Look to it that he never leaves this house at any minute from this time forth that you do not search him from top to toe.  If he resists—­ah, well, a pistol may go off accidentally, and things that Mauravania’s king would give his life to keep hidden will come to light if any charge of murder is preferred.  Monsieur the police spy, I wish you joy of your task.”

“Madame, I shall take joy in it,” Cleek replied.  “But why should we talk of unpleasant things when the future looks so bright?  Come, may we not give ourselves a pleasant evening?  Look, there is a piano, and—­Count, hold my puppy for me, and please see that no one feeds him at any time.  I am starving him so that he may devour some of Clopin’s parakeets, because I hate the sight of the little beasts.  Thank you.  Madame, do you like music?  Listen, then:  I’ll sing you Mauravania’s national anthem:  ‘God guard the throne; God shield the right!’” and, dropping down upon the seat before the open instrument, he did so.

* * * * *

That night was ever memorable at the Villa Irma, for the detective seemed somehow to have given place to the courtier, and so merry was his mood, so infectious his good nature, that even madame came under the spell of it.  She sang with him, she even danced a Russian polka with him; she sat with him at dinner, and flirted with him in the salon afterward; and when the time came for her to retire, it was he who took her bedroom candle from the shelf and put it into her hand.

“Of a truth, you are a charming fellow, monsieur,” she said, when he bent and kissed her hand.  “What a pity you should be a police spy and upon so hopeless a case.”