He had to admit to himself that his nerves seemed to be about as taut as piano wires. He told himself that possibly he was "up against it," and yet he had stood on the brink of disaster so often during his college career without acquiring vertigo, that the experience of the afternoon was like a joyous renewal of youth.

He had no set program but he had a feeling that if he was to be questioned he would lie entertainingly.

Of one thing he was certain--it would help his case if he made no attempt to hurry across the frontier. He believed in the wisdom of hunting up the authorities whenever the authorities were hunting for him. For instance, in the prep school, after getting the cow into the chapel, he discovered her there and notified the princ.i.p.al and was the only boy who did not fall under suspicion. To a.s.sume a childlike innocence and to bluff magnificently,--these had been the twin rules that had saved him so often and would save him now, unless he should be confronted by the princess or the two guards, in which case--he whistled softly.

Suddenly two men came slamming in at the front door and stalked down the avenue of palms. They seemed to be throbbing with the importance of their errand, as they moved toward a little side office, which was the official lair of the manager.

One of the men was elderly and wizened and the other was a detective.

Pike knew it as soon as he glanced at the heavy jowls and the broad face and heard the authoritative footfall. He knew, also, that he was not a bona fide detective, but a munic.i.p.al detective, who is paid a monthly salary and walks stealthily along side streets in citizen's dress, all the time imagining that the people he meets take him to be a merchant or a lawyer. In this he is mistaken, for he resembles nothing except a munic.i.p.al detective.

If Mr. Pike had known that the officer who accompanied Popova was the celebrated Koldo, chief of the secret service, no doubt the impulse to retreat to his apartment and get behind the bed canopies would have been stronger. He knew, however, that no detective of a.n.a.lytical methods would expect to find the criminal standing at his elbow, so he followed the two over to the office and calmly wedged himself into the conference.

The great Koldo was agitated as he told his story to the manager, who was a polite and sympathetic importation from Switzerland. Popova stood by and corroborated by nodding.

"An outrage of the most dreadful nature has been reported from the palace," said Koldo.

"Dear me!" murmured the manager. "I am so sorry."

"A stranger scaled the wall and entered the forbidden precincts. He addressed himself to the Princess Kalora with most insulting familiarity. Two of the household guards captured him, but he escaped after beating them brutally. The report of the whole affair and a description of the man have been brought to me by the esteemed Popova--this gentleman here, who is court interpreter and instructor in languages to the royal family."

Popova nodded and Mr. Pike saw the scattered spires of Bessemer, Pennsylvania, whirling away into a cloud of disappearance.

"If you have a description of the man, no doubt you will be able to find him," he said, knowing that this kind of speech would strengthen his plea of innocence when brought out at the trial.

The chief of the secret service turned and looked wonderingly at the bland stranger and resumed: "After some reflection I have decided to make inquiries at all the hotels, to learn if any foreigner answering this description has lately arrived in the city."

"You may be sure that any information I possess will be put at your disposal immediately," said the manager, with a smile and a professional bow.

The only Koldo, breathing deeply, brought from his pocket a sheet of paper, while Mr. Pike propped himself deliberately against the door and tried to mold his features into that expression of guileless innocence which he had observed on the face of a cherub in the Vatican.

"He is very rugged and powerful," said the detective, referring to his notes. "Large, quite large--black hair, dark eyes with a glance that seems to pierce through anything--long mustache, also black--wears much jewelry--speaks with a marked German accent--wears a suit of Scotch plaid--heavy military boots."

Mr. Pike removed his hat and allowed the electric light to twinkle on his ruddy hair.

"How--ah--where did you get this description?" he asked gently.

"From the Princess herself," replied Popova. "She saw him at close range."

"Believe me, I am sorry, but no one answering the description has been at my hotel," said the manager.

"Then I shall go to the Hotel Bristol and the Hotel Victoria," announced Koldo, with something of fierce determination in his tone.

"An excellent plan," a.s.sented the manager.

"Would you mind if I b.u.t.ted in with a suggestion?" said Mr. Pike, laying a friendly hand on the arm of the redoubtable Koldo. "Don't you think it would be better if you went alone to these hotels? This distinguished gentleman," indicating Popova, "is well known on account of being a high guy up at the palace. Sure as you live, if he trails around with you, you will be spotted. You don't want to hunt this fellow with a bra.s.s band. Besides, you don't need any help, do you?"--to the head of the secret service.

"Certainly not," replied the famous detective, swelling visibly. "I have all the data--already I am planning my campaign."

"Then I should like to have a talk with Pop-what's-his-name. I think I can slip him a few valuable pointers. You go right along and nail your man and we'll sit here in the shade of the sheltering palm and tell each other our troubles."

"I must return to the palace quite soon," murmured Popova, gazing at the stranger uneasily.

"Call a carriage for the professor," spoke up Mr. Pike briskly, to the manager. "I know his time is valuable, so we'll get down to business immediately, if not sooner."

The manager knew a millionaire's voice when he heard it, so he hurried away. The impatient Koldo said that he would communicate directly with the palace as soon as he had effected the capture, and started for the front door. Then, remembering himself, he went out the back way.

The old tutor, finding himself alone with Mr. Pike, was not permitted to relapse into embarra.s.sment.

"In the first place, I want you to know who and what I am," said Mr.

Pike. "Come into my suite and I'll show you something. Then you'll see that you're not wasting your time on a light-weight."

He led the way to a large parlor ornately done in red, and pulled out from a leather trunk a pa.s.sport issued by the Department of State of the United States of America. It was a huge parchment, with pictorial embellishments, heavy Gothic type and a seal about the size of a pie.

Mr. Pike's physical peculiarities were enumerated and there was a direct request that the bearer be shown every courtesy and attention due a citizen of the great republic. Popova looked it over and was impressed.

"It isn't everybody that gets those," said Mr. Pike, as he put the doc.u.ment carefully back into the trunk and covered it with shirts. "Have a red chair. Take off your hat--ah, I remember, you leave that on, don't you?"

The old gentleman seated himself, somewhat rea.s.sured by the cheery manner of his host, who sat in front of him and beamed.

Mr. Pike, supposed to be given to vapory and aimless conversation, really was a general. Already we have learned that he based his every-day conduct on a groundwork of safe principles. He had certain private theories, which had stood the test, and when following these theories he proceeded with bustling confidence. One of his theories was that every man in the world has a grievance and regards himself as much-abused, and in order to win the regard and confidence of that man, all one has to do is feel around for the grievance and then play upon it. Mr. Pike, in his province of employer, had been compelled to study the methods of successful labor-union agitators.

"You don't know much about me, but I know plenty about you," he began, closing one eye and nodding wisely. "I hadn't been here very long before I found out who was the real brains of that outfit up at the palace."

"Really, you know, we are not supposed to discuss the merits of our ruler," said Popova, fairly startled at the candid tone of the other. He lifted one hand in timid deprecation.

"Of course you're not. That's why some one who is simply a figurehead goes on taking all the credit for tricks turned by a smart fellow who is working for him. Now, if you lived in the dear old land of ready money, where the accident of birth doesn't give any man the right to sit on somebody else's neck, you'd be a big gun. You'd have money and a pull and probably, before you got through, you'd be investigated. Over here, you are deliberately kept in the background. You are the Patsy."

"The what?"

"The squidge--that means the fellow who does all the worrying and gets nothing out of it. Now, before you return to what you call the palace, and which looks to me like the main building of the Allegheny Brick Works, will you do me the honor of going into that cave of gloom, known as the American bar, and hitting up just one small libation?"

"I am not sure that I catch your meaning," said Popova, who felt himself somewhat smothered by rhetoric.

"Into the bar--down at the little iron table--business of hoisting beverage."

"We of the faith are not supposed to partake of any drink containing even a small percentage of alcohol."

"I'm not _supposed_ to dally with it myself, having been brought up on cistern water, but I find in traveling that I entertain a more kindly feeling for you strange foreign people when I carry a medium-sized headlight. Come along, now. Don't compel me to tear your clothes."

There was no resisting the masterful spirit of the young steel magnate, and Popova was led away to a remote apartment, where a single shelf, spa.r.s.ely set with bottles, made a weak effort to reproduce the fabled splendors of far-away New York.

"Let's see, what shall we tackle?" asked Mr. Pike, as he checked down the line with a rigid forefinger. "If you don't care what happens to you, we might try a couple of c.o.c.ktails--that is, if you like the taste of _eau de quinine_. Oh, I'll tell you what! Here are lemons, seltzer and gin. Boy, two gin fizzes."

The attendant, who was very juvenile and much afraid of his job, smiled and shook his head.

"Do you mean to say that you never heard of a gin fizz?" asked Mr. Pike.

"All the ingredients within reach, simply waiting to be introduced to each other, and you have been holding them apart. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Bring out some ice. Produce your jigger. Get busy.

Hand me the tools and I'll do this myself."

Then, while the other two looked on in abashed admiration, Mr. Pike deftly squeezed the lemons and splashed in allopathic portions of the crystal fluid and used ice most wastefully. After vigorous shaking and patient straining he shot a seething stream of seltzer into each gla.s.s and finally delivered to Popova a translucent drink that was very tall and capped with foam.