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how many men have been confronted with one like it? Should I get the woman or the hundred thousand?”

The King leaned forward in his chair. “Which did you take? Tell me quickly.”

“I remained in Panama for a while,” said Henry. “What would Your Majesty have done in my place? I got both. Perhaps I got even more than that. Who knows but my son will inherit the silver mines eventually.”

“I would have done that,” cried the King. “You are right. I would have done just that. It was clever, sir. A toast, Captain—to foresight. Your generalship, sir, runs to other matters than warfare, I see. You have never been defeated in battle, they say; but tell me, Captain, were you ever defeated in love? It is a good scene—an unusual scene—when a man admits himself bested in love. The admission is so utterly contrary to every masculine instinct. Another glass, Sir, and tell us about your defeat.”

“Not by a woman, Sire— But once I was defeated by Death. There are things which so sear the soul that the pain of it follows through life. You asked for the story. Your health, Sire.

“I was born in Wales, among the mountains. My father was a gentleman. One summer, while I was a lad, a little princess of France came to our mountains for the air. She had a small retinue, and being lively and restless and clever, she achieved some freedom. One morning I came upon her where she bathed alone in the river. She was