The Lighted Match

Left alone, Benton spent ten minutes in the room, then passed through

the window to the balcony and went down into the miniature garden. His

face was hot and his pulses heightened. The garden was gratefully cool

and quiet.

From the window, through which he had come, a broad shaft of tempered

luminance fell across the fountain and laid a zone of soft light athwart

the low stone benches surrounding it. Then it caught, and faintly edged

with its glow, the granite balustrade at the shoulder of the cliff.

Elsewhere the little garden was enveloped in the velvet blackness of the

night, against which the points of town and harbor lights, far below,

were splinters of emerald and ruby. The moon would not rise until late.

The American strolled over to the shaded margin which was unspoiled by

the light. He brushed back the hair from his forehead and let the sea

breeze play on his face.

Finally a light sound behind him called his attention inward. The King

and Von Ritz stood together in the doorway. Both were in dress uniform.

Karyl, even at the side of the soldierly Von Ritz, was striking in the

white and silver of Galavia's commanding general. Across his breast

glinted the decorations of all the orders to which Royalty entitled him.

The King, with a deep breath not unlike a sigh, came forward to the

fountain. There he halted with one booted foot on the margin of the

basin and his white-gauntleted hands clasped at his back. He had not yet

seen Benton, who now stepped out of the shadow to present himself. As he

came into view Karyl raised his eyes and nodded with a smile.

"Ah, Benton," he said, "so you came! Thank you."

The American bowed. He wished to observe every proper amenity of Court

etiquette. He was still chagrined by the memory of his rudeness to Von

Ritz, yet he was determined that if Karyl had sent for him as the Count

Pagratide, he must receive him on equal terms and without ceremony.

"Certainly," he replied. Then with a short laugh he added: "I have never

before been received by a crowned head. If my etiquette proves faulty,

you must score it against my ignorance--not my intention."

"I sent for you," said Karyl slowly, as the eyes of the two men met in

full directness, "and you were good enough to come. I am a crowned

head--yes--that is my damned ill-fortune. Let us, for God's sake, in so

far as we may, forget that! Benton, back there--" his voice suddenly

rose and took on a passionate tremor as he lifted one gauntleted hand in

a sweep toward the west--"back there in your country, where you were a

grandee of finance and I an impecunious foreigner, there was no ceremony

between us. If we can forget this livery"--Karyl savagely struck his

breast--"if you will try to forget that you are looking at a toy King,

fancifully trimmed from head to heel in braid and medals--then perhaps

we can talk!"