“Be off with you, ragamuffin!” growled the majordomo.

“Be quick; open the gates!” replied the carter, swinging his whip threateningly.

“Go away!” The majordomo spun on his heels contemptuously.

“I will skin you alive,” vowed the carter, striking the iron with the butt of his whip, “if you do not open these gates immediately.  Open!”

There was real menace this time.  Could the fellow be crazy?  The majordomo concluded to temporize.

“My good man,” he said conciliatorily, “you have brains.  You ought to know that his excellency will receive no man in your condition.  If you do not stop hammering on those bars, I shall send for the police.”

The carter thrust a hand through the grill.  There was a ring on one of his fingers.

“Imbecile, set your eye on that and admit me without more ado!”

The majordomo was thunderstruck.  Indeed, a blast from the heavens would have jarred him less.

“Open, then!”

The majordomo threw back the bolts and the carter pushed his way in.  That ring on the carter’s finger?  The majordomo felt himself slipping into a fantastic dream.

“Take me to the baron.”

Vastly subdued the majordomo preceded the carter into the office of the embassy.  There he left the strange guest and went in search of the baron.  The ambassador was in his study, reading.

“Your Excellency, there is a man in the office who desires to see you quickly.”

The ambassador laid down his book.  “Upon what pretense did he gain admittance at this hour?” he demanded.

“I refused him admittance, your Excellency, because he was dressed like a carter.—­”

“A carter!” The ambassador wrathfully jumped to his feet.

“One moment, your Excellency.  He wore a ring on his finger, and I could not refuse him.”

“A ring, you say?”

Guarding his voice with his hand, the majordomo whispered two words.

“Here, and dressed like a carter?  What the devil!” The ambassador rushed from the study.

It was dark in the embassy office.  Quickly the ambassador lighted some candles.  Gas would be too bright for such a meeting.

“Well, your Excellency?” said a voice from the leather lounge.

“Who are you?” For this was not the voice the baron expected to hear.

“My name at present does not matter.  The news I bring is far more important.  His majesty emphatically declines any alliance with the House of Ehrenstein.”

The ambassador stumbled into a chair, his mind dulled, his shoulders inert.  This was a blow.

“Declines?” he murmured.

“He repudiates his uncle’s negotiations absolutely.”

“Damnation!” swore the ambassador, coming to life once more.

“The exact word used by the prince; in fact, the word has become common property in the last forty-eight hours.  Now then, what’s to be done?  What do you suggest?”