“Enough of this,” he snapped, laying a pistol on the table.  I was considered dangerous; it was something to know that.  “You must answer my questions.”

“Must?”

“Must.”

“Young man you have no tact.  You are not an accomplished villain,” said I, pleasantly.  “You should begin by asking me how I spent the night, and if there was not something you could do for my material comfort.  Perhaps, however, you will first answer a few questions of mine?”

“There are only two men whose questions I answer,” he said.

“And who might they be?”

“My commander and the King.  I will answer one question—­the reason you are here.  You are a menace to the tranquility of the State.”

“Oh; then I have the honor of being what is called a prisoner of State?  Be careful,” I cried, suddenly; “that pistol might go off, and then the American Minister might ask you in turn some questions, disagreeable ones, too.”

“The American Minister would never know anything about it,” said he, gruffly.  “But have no fear; I should hesitate to soil an innocent leaden bullet in your carcass.”

“Be gentle,” I advised, “or when we meet again I shall feel it my duty to dull the lustre of your other eye.”

“Pah!” he ejaculated.  “We are indebted to the French for the word canaille, which applies to all Americans and Englishmen.”

“Now,” said I, climbing off the pallet, “I shall certainly do it.”

“I warn you not to approach me,” he cried, his fingers closing over the pistol.

“Well, I promise not to do it now,” I declared, going over to the window.  I found some satisfaction in his nervousness; it told me that he feared me.  “What place is this; a palace?”

“Answer this question, sir:  Why did you cross the frontier when you were expressly forbidden to do so?”

“I forbidden to cross the frontier?” My astonishment was indescribable.  “Young man, you have made a blunder of some sort.  I am not a Socialist or an Anarchist.  I have never been forbidden to cross the frontier of any country.  Your Chancellor is one of the best friends I have in the world.  I went to school with his son.”

He rocked to and fro on the table, laughing honestly and heartily.  “You do not lack impudence.  Are you, or are you not, the London correspondent of the New York ------?”

“I certainly am.”

“You admit it?” eagerly.

“I see no earthly reason why I should not.”

“When did you last visit this city?”

“Several years ago.”

“Several years ago?” incredulously.

“Exactly.  Have you ever seen me before?”

“No.  But it was a little less than two years ago when you were here.”

“It is scarcely polite,” said I, “to question the veracity of a man you never saw before and of whom you know positively nothing.”  Suddenly my head began to throb again and I grew dizzy.  “You hit me rather soundly with that pistol.  Still, your eye ought to be a recompense.”