There was a pause, and then, in admirable imitation of the statesman's chirography, in letters of white fire, appeared the word—
"ROOSEVELT."
Applause rang out loud and long. The handwriting on the wall disappeared, leaving the room once more in darkness, then the regular lights were switched on. With his back to the door furthest from the Minister stood Heinrich in new splendour, arrayed in the uniform of a captain of Bavarian Guards. Along each side of the table stood like statues a dozen men, also in foreign regimentals. The butt ends of their rifles rested on the floor; the glow of electric lamps shone like summer lightning on their well-polished bayonets.
"Gentlemen," said Heinrich quietly, "you are my prisoners."
The diners looked at one another, and at their host, who sat impassive at the head of the table.
"Heinrich!" he said.
"Captain, sir, if you please."
"Very well, captain. We are quite pleased with your tableau. You may now withdraw, and take your men with you."
So accustomed was the captain to obedience, and to the carrying-out of orders, that his first motion
