"I wonder why Nobodies talk so beastly loud," he remarked.

Hyde nudged me with his elbow, and his eyes said, "You see the depths of displeasure you are bringing on our heads!"

After a pause, as Don Juan had not paid the slightest attention to the baron's query, he continued introspectively, with all the manner of a very bored actor reading a soliloquy of which he does not approve:

"I suppose they have to keep their silly lungs in training for public speaking. A republic without oratory would be quite impossible. Democracy is government by declamation."

Don Juan ignored this, which I thought a gem of political observation. I was beginning to like the baron, but not the trend of events. In attempting to arouse Gwendolyn to indirect repartee I had started a soliloquy by her father; I determined to try again. The baron started to speak, but I drowned him out:

"I have wandered about this city looking-looking everywhere-for a

week," I said.

"Have you lost something?" Hyde asked.

"Yes, a jewel, a rare jewel."

"Too bad! Why don't you report it

to the police?" suggested Hyde.

"It's all right. I've found it now." "That 's good."

"But I'm afraid I shall lose it again." "Why don't you keep it locked up at the hotel?"

"I wish I could," I sighed, looking longingly at Gwendolyn; "but I can't control it."

"What?" Hyde stared at me. I knew instantly that he considered me demented.

"I wish I knew where to go to-morrow," I said after a pause during which we waited for the spin of the wheel.

"What for?" inquired Hyde, looking dubiously at me over his shoulder.

"To find the jewel that I shall lose again-in half an hour or so."

That last remark settled matters for poor Hyde. From that moment until he left Aristokia he always treated me as a harmless lunatic, which simplified things immeasurably.

I wanted to see what effects my shots were having on Gwendolyn, but she was looking at Hyde, whose expression was a unique admixture of terror, bewilderment, and sympathy. It was too much for her sense of humor, and she went into peals of delicious laughter.

Braganza, feeling reassured at the effect of his wit, told Gwendolyn another anecdote about himself, which she never heard, I am sure, for he was obliged to repeat the point. Even then she laughed in the wrong place.

"I'm not going to talk any more," I said to Hyde, who seemed greatly relieved by my decision. I turned quickly and looked at the baron, but though I could swear he was secretly elated, he gave no outward sign. "I 'm going to listen. I might hear something of in

"He stopped me in the boulevard this afternoon" terest." I wanted Gwendolyn to know that it was now up to her to talk at me through Braganza.

In a few moments she said, as she placed an extra-heavy bet, "Faint heart. ne'er won fair lady, Juan."

Was this meant for me? I doubled my bet on her number. We won. For some time I had been winning, but I had been too interested in my mad duologue with Hyde to realize how much. Now that I hardly cared what the result of the turn of the wheel might be, I won steadily.

As I played, I listened for something more tangibly hopeful for me to fall from Gwendolyn's lips, but I listened in vain.

I watched Braganza. How attentive he was to her! With what subtle gallantry and finesse he wooed her! His conversation was a mosaic of little things which in themselves meant nothing; but, taken as a whole, what did they not mean?

And then it was that I came to a momentous decision. If ever I was to have the exquisite pleasure of talking to Gwendolyn again, I must make the opportunity, I must be the aggressor. She had shown the way once; it was now up to me. I had been a fool. I would seek out her house, I would shadow her. To talk with her again I would risk everything. What was a fine or two? The little wheel was making enough for me to pay a dozen fines. Gwendolyn's nearness intoxicated me and sent a thrill of courage throbbing through my veins.

"From now on I 'm going to take chances," I said out loud. "I've been a fool. I'm going to plunge. I'm going to be reckless."

I bet my entire pile and won. I was now several thousand ahead of the game. As I gathered the coins and bills the croupier pushed toward me, Gwendolyn and Braganza left the table. Papa had turned away just ahead of them. His parting shot had been: “I'm going to see Prince Karl"-Prince Karl was a Hapsburg and one of the most influential Royal Blues-"about a law to prohibit oratory in public places, and thus reduce the volume of sound emitted by tourists."

I told Hyde I thought we had better quit, and though he had been losing for some time, he agreed. I tried to follow Gwendolyn, but Hyde wanted to go in the opposite direction, and while we discussed the matter, she was swallowed up in the crowd.

Gwendolyn had disappeared, moving in the direction of a lounging space filled with comfortable sofas and chairs and small tables at which drinks were served. It was situated in a semi-oval recess between the two wings of the great stairway that went up to the

airplane entrance. The stairs were not so crowded but that I could see her, were she to leave that way. Surmising, however, that the baron was probably slaking his thirst after his arduous speechmaking at my expense, I suggested a drink, and with my eyes on the stairs led the way to the lounge.

There I found Gwendolyn and her escorts seated on a sofa. There was a third man in uniform, who, Hyde informed me, was a Bonaparte.

I ordered a thing called, for some obscure reason, a highball, and while I sipped it I wrote on the back of an envelop:

"MISS SMITH: Do you ever walk in the Bois Bolshevik near the statue of Leon Trotzky? It was very nice there once at half-after nine."

I was very proud of this. She would understand, but no one else would.

Hyde had been watching me, consumed with intense curiosity. He had started nervously every time I had chuckled with self-satisfaction during the composition of my note. I could see that he was eager to ask me what I was doing, but a really charming reticence restrained him. I liked him for it.

"Just a few observations on the course of human events," I said.

"Oh." Dazed, he looked at me. We finished our drinks. The men in Gwendolyn's party rose and stood for an instant, their backs to the sofa, waving and beckoning to a bearded man descending the stairs. Gwendolyn only half turned, and I caught her eye. I jumped up. As I passed her I dropped the folded envelop, and continued on my way without looking backward.

I was congratulating myself on the neatness with which I had done the thing when I heard a queer and weird exclamation behind me. It was Hyde. I had forgotten him in my plan of campaign.

"Excuse me, old man, but you dropped this," he said and handed me the envelop.

I took it. It was unfolded. "Did you read it?" I asked. "Well-you see " Hyde reddened and became inarticulate. "It was-that

But I don't

is-I could n't help understand it. Who is Trotzky? I beg your pardon; it 's none of my business," he added quickly, repentant.

"Certainly it is your business. You owe a great debt to Trotzky. So do I. There should be a statue to him. He was the great Bolshevik leader in Russia about fifty years ago. Some one killed him because he was too reactionary; but the proletariate owes a great deal to him, nevertheless."

By this time we were about twenty feet away from Gwendolyn. Suddenly

I wheeled, swinging the unfortunate Hyde, whom I held by the arm, around with me, and started walking briskly back toward Gwendolyn, talking volubly all the time. I was the conjurer using patter to keep Hyde's interest centered on my words rather than on my deeds. The descendants of Boggs, Napoleon, and Manuel were showing signs of an imminent departure.

"I thought that Brisdon" began Hyde.

I interrupted him quickly.

"That's the way they teach history in Benton, Nebraska. You thought that Brisdon, Strawood, and that Washington Square chap who used to edit the 'New Democracy' were responsible for our proletariate emancipation. Well, in a way they were; but I tell you they never had an idea that they did n't get from Trotzky."

My voice had grown louder and louder, and the "Trotzky" was almost a shout. The bearded man to whom Gwendolyn and the others had waved turned quickly with a startled expression.

"'Sh!" cautioned Hyde. "He's a Russian, a Romanoff!"

Gwendolyn looked at me again. As I passed her I dropped the note at her feet. Hyde did not see it.

Gwendolyn dropped her handkerchief, undoubtedly with the intention of picking up my note with the filmy piece of lace; but the excessive politeness and alacrity of the descendant of Napoleon forestalled her. He handed her the handkerchief, bowed, and then read the note. I heard him ejaculate something in French which sounded sacred. Hyde gasped:

"My God! have you dropped that thing again? thing again? Let's get away from here quick!"

He tugged miserably at my arm, but I stood my ground and held him. An irresistible desire to see what would happen glued me to the spot.

The baron was smoking in absolute unconcern, Don Juan was posing for the benefit of any woman who might look his way, Gwendolyn was trying desperately not to laugh, the Russian, having heard the Frenchman's religious observation, was looking concerned.

"What in heaven's name is the matter and what is that paper?" he asked Bonaparte in French. I don't know French, but I'm sure that he said something like that, for Napoleon's great-grand-something-or-other struggled to keep the contents of my note from his friend. But the Romanoff overpowered him, and took possession of the paper. There was a moment of tense silence.

Then Nicholas, or whatever his name was, thundered:

"Who dares to write concerning a statue to the infamous murderer of my beloved great-uncles and great-aunts!"

He handed the note to Juan and began to weep.

Don Juan glanced at it in a cursory manner, passed it to Gwendolyn without comment, and then turned to sympathize elaborately with Romanoff. Gwendolyn's eyes danced, and her lips quivered. I had made a decided hit.

Then father got the note and remarked:

"It 's in code!"

He called one of the casino police. I was to discover later that the baron was always calling policemen.

The eyes of the group were on Hyde and me. The Frenchman pointed at us excitedly; the Russian walked up and down debating with himself whether we should be drawn and quartered or boiled in oil.

Hyde was struggling frantically to escape my vise-like grip when the grotesqueness of the situation sent me into a spasm of uncontrolled laughter, and I shook so violently that I lost my hold on him. I expected to see him cut loose and run for Benton, Nebraska. To my

utter amazement, and I shall never forgive myself for having so misjudged him, he dashed straight at the baron and the others now grouped about the policeman.

The officer was explaining to Prince Romanoff that we could not possibly be arrested for proposing a statue to Leon Trotzky; we had broken no law of Aristokia.

"Then it's a damn silly country," said the baron.

It was at this point that Hyde reached the group, talking rapidly.

"Gentlemen, I know I should not address you, that I am only a Nobody, that you are great princes; but my poor friend is insane, though perfectly harmless. I will remove him immediately, and assure you—"

He got no further. That much had taken the august gentlemen by surprise. But now the baron was smiling contentedly.

"This vulgar outburst simplifies matters," he said to the policeman. "The charge is talking to Aristokians and addressing us as gentlemen instead of using our titles correctly."

"Yes, your Lordship." The policeman bowed, and took Hyde by the arm. "Let me look at the fellow," the baron demanded, looking at Hyde through his monocle. "Yes, the physiognomy is too similar for mere resemblance. This

this does n't wind its watch regularly; lax habits. Second offense, Officer. He stopped me in the boulevard this afternoon."

Without further ado the policeman led Hyde away. I followed dismally. Well, anyway, Gwendolyn had read my note.

We entered a well-furnished room of nondescript character through a small, half-concealed door under the stairs. It was neither an office nor an anteroom. Two or three policemen were lounging about smoking.

"I'm so sorry, old chap," I began my excuses to Hyde.

"It's all right."

The policeman smiled at us genially. "Don't worry, don't worry. Baron Wigleigh never appears to press a charge. It bores him too much."

"Really?" I asked in surprise.

A policeman over by the wall stretched, yawned, and remarked:

"He had three hundred and fifty tourists arrested last season, and appeared against only three of them."

Hyde breathed a sigh of relief.

"I can fix this up for you," said our policeman.

"Can you?" I asked, wondering just what the technic of the thing would be. Then I noticed Hyde digging down into his pockets, and I understood.

"No, no," I interposed; "you are my guest." I took out my roll. "How much?" I asked the policeman.

"Well, your fine for talking to them would have been one hundred dollars, for using their titles wrong would have been a hundred apiece. As there were four of them, that 's four hundred. Second offense doubles. That 's a grand total of one thousand." He paused. "Ten per cent. of that would be one hundred."

I gave him the hundred, and we turned to go.

"Wait a bit," he said. "You'll be wanting your receipt."

My brain reeled. I took the receipt in a dream.

formed me that all of them were fools, that he knew the city well, this was his fifth trip to Aristokia,-and would be pleased to accompany me. I did n't want him, but he looked at me so wistfully that I could not refuse his offer. I saw that he had taken a fancy to me and felt it to be his Christian duty to watch over me and keep my unbalanced mind from doing me harm.

We clambered aboard the car of a bright young Frenchman, Auguste, who seemed an excellent flier.

I was soon delighted to have Hyde along, for his knowledge of the city was profound, and the information I gained I later used to great advantage.

We flew low and passed over many interesting buildings: the emperor's palace; the great edifice wherein the Royal Blues held their secret conclaves; the home of the Hohenzollerns; Prince Braganza's artistic and exquisitely proportioned residence, quite the most beautiful private house in Aristokia; and a little farther west the imposing structure of Wigleigh Hall.

It stood on a slight hill, surrounded by terraced gardens and lawns declining gradually to a beautiful artificial lake. It was octagonal in shape, with no front or back, the main entrance, in the approved modern manner, being from the top. The highest part of the roof was flat and clear. It was the landing-place for planes. A broad, shallow stone stairway descended into the grand entrance, a beautiful marble arch where two flunkies in livery stood on guard.

At the other side of the building was a large, glass-inclosed space, a sort of sun-room, with an unobstructed view of the sky. And there the Wigleighs, papa, mama, and Gwendolyn sat at breakfast.

We were flying very low and slowly as we passed. Gwendolyn looked up, and I think she saw me. In an instant my mind was made up. I would show her the kind of a lover I was. I would be reckless. I would plunge!

Reassured by my very rational conversation, Hyde was beginning to think that I had been drunk the evening before and was not really insane. So when I asked Auguste to circle over the

where the glass had been removed to admit the fresh morning air. Directly beneath this opening was a large, softlooking couch where I presume Mama Wigleigh took her daily sun-bath. I would have made a clean drive through the opening and landed squarely on this couch if Hyde had not tried to rescue me. His frantic clutch at my departing left leg deviated me from my wellchosen course just enough to make me side-swipe and smash a huge pane. of glass, which clattered down with me to the floor, though I did manage to keep partly on the couch.

I was sorry for the fracas, as I had no desire to wreck the Wigleigh home or antagonize papa while making my morning call.