rushed into the salon with it. Two agitated footmen attempted to help, but he clung to the thing with feverish earnestness, opened it, rummaged among some socks and collars, and finally produced a packet of tobacco, a box of matches, and a bottle of brandy.
"There," he said. "By heaven, I've earned it."
He uncorked the bottle and sniffed it affectionately. With difficulty Nyla restrained him until one of the footmen had brought a tray and glasses. "Well," he said, pouring some out, "Now we can feel a little more at home."
"Your pardon, Herr President," objected Romsteck who had suddenly appeared, "but those are not brandy glasses. They are champagne goblets."
"Major," retorted the harassed man, "I drink to your Grand Duke. I am beginning to understand why he fled." And he raised his glass. But before he could place it to his lips he was halted by a cry, courteous but peremptory.
