My room overlooked the Avenue, and the writing-desk was near the window.  I was drawing the formal report to the War Department of my arrival at Dornlitz and the status political and military, when the clatter of hoofs on the driveway drew my attention.  It was a tall officer in the green-and-gold of the Royal Guards, and pulling up sharply he tossed his rein to his orderly.  I heard the door open and voices in the hall; and, then, in a few minutes, he came out and rode away, with the stiff, hard seat of the European cavalryman.  I was still watching him when Courtney entered.

“What do you think of him?” he asked.

“I haven’t seen enough of him to think,” said I.

“Not even enough to wonder who he is?”

I yawned.  “His uniform tells me he is a colonel of the Guard.”

“But nothing else?”

“I can read a bit more.”

“From the uniform?” he asked.

I nodded.

“You’re a veritable Daniel,” Courtney laughed.  “What saith the writing—­or rather, what saith the uniform?”

“It’s very simple to those who read uniforms.”

“So!” said he.  “I await the interpretation.”

“It’s too easy,” I retorted.  “A Point Plebe could do it.  Your visitor was one of His Majesty’s Aides-de-Camp bearing an invitation to the ball at the Palace to-night.”

For once I saw Courtney’s face show surprise.

“How did you guess it?” he said, after a pause.

“A diplomat should watch the newspapers,” said I, and pointed to this item in the Court News of that morning’s issue: 

“His Excellency the Honorable Richard Courtney, the newly accredited American Ambassador, is expected to arrive to-day.  He is accompanied by Major Dalberg, the Military Attache.  His Majesty has ordered his Aide-de-Camp, Colonel Bernheim, to invite them to the Birthday Ball to-night; where they will be honored by a special presentation.”

Courtney read it carefully.  “At last I see the simple truth in a daily paper,” he commented.  “But, as for you, my friend, button your coat well over your heart for it’s in for a hard thump tonight.”

“So?” said I.

“There won’t be so much indifference after you’ve met Her and—­seen a certain picture in the Corridor of Kings,” he retorted, with a superior smile.

“Think not?” said I, with another yawn.  “What if I’ve done both years ago?”

He eyed me sharply.  “It’s foolish to bluff when a show-down is certain,” he said.

“So one learns in the army.”

“Of course not every hand needs to bluff,” he said slowly.

“No—­not every hand,” I agreed.

He went over to the door.  On the threshold he turned.

“I wonder if this is my laugh, or yours, to-night,” he said.

“We will laugh together,” I answered.

Then he went out.

IV