“The Princess has already received me graciously,” Dominey confided.

“Terniloff is the dove of peace,” the Kaiser pronounced.  “He carries the sprig of olive in his mouth.  My statesmen and counsellors would have sent to London an ambassador with sterner qualities.  I preferred not.  Terniloff is the man to gull fools, because he is a fool himself.  He is a fit ambassador for a country which has not the wit to arm itself on land as well as by sea, when it sees a nation, mightier, more cultured, more splendidly led than its own, creeping closer every day.”

“The English appear to put their whole trust in their navy, your Majesty,” Dominey observed tentatively.

The eyes of his companion flashed.  His lips curled contemptuously.

“Fools!” he exclaimed.  “Of what use will their navy be when my sword is once drawn, when I hold the coast towns of Calais and Boulogne, when my cannon command the Straits of Dover!  The days of insular nations are passed, passed as surely as the days of England’s arrogant supremacy upon the seas.”

The Kaiser refilled his glass and Dominey’s.

“In some months’ time, Von Ragastein,” he continued, “you will understand why you have been enjoined to become the friend and companion of Terniloff.  You will understand your mission a little more clearly than you do now.  Its exact nature waits upon developments.  You can at all times trust Seaman.”

Dominey bowed and remained silent.  His companion continued after another brief spell of silent brooding.

“Von Ragastein,” he said, “my decree of banishment against you was a just one.  The morals of my people are as sacred to me as my oath to win for them a mightier empire.  You first of all betrayed the wife of one of the most influential noblemen of a State allied to my own, and then, in the duel that followed, you slew him.”

“It was an accident, your Majesty,” Dominey pleaded.  “I had no intention of even wounding the Prince.”

The Kaiser frowned.  All manner of excuses were loathsome to him.

“The accident should have happened the other way,” he rejoined sharply.  “I should have lost a valuable servant, but it was your life which was forfeit, and not his.  Still, they tell me that your work in Africa was well and thoroughly done.  I give you this one great chance of rehabilitation.  If your work in England commends itself to me, the sentence of exile under which you suffer shall be rescinded.”

“Your Majesty is too good,” Dominey murmured.  “The work, for its own sake, will command my every effort, even without the hope of reward.”