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with -- Navarro!"

The last word was uttered in so sharp a bark that Don Miguel jumped.

"Navarro, what possessed you to arrest the Marquesa di Jorque when she was

so plainly an innocent party in this case?"

Don Miguel's heart sank so rapidly he could almost feel it arriving in

his boots. He said stiffly, "I acted, sir, in strict accordance with

the law and the rules of the Society."

"Heaven's name, man! Didn't anyone ever tell you that to stick rigidly

to the letter of the law is the mark of a man without imagination? I've

studied the information laid before me, and it's perfectly clear that her

ladyship acted throughout in unquestionable good faith. I'm discharging

her from custody here and now, and I require you to apologise to her

before she returns to her domains at Jorque."

What?

There was no hope of arguing with the Commander of the Society, especially

not in the presence of outsiders, but Don Miguel was horrified. Was not

the law, in both letter and spirit, mankind's chief bulwark against the

forces of chaos? Even from a Prince of the Blood he could not accept an

order to apologise for acting in accordance with the law!

He grew aware that everyone was waiting for him to comply. The invisible

faces of the General Officers were turned to stare at him, and the

Marquesa, suddenly repossessed of her usual poise, was glaring at him

triumphantly, tapping her manicured fingers on the arm of her chair.

To cover his uncertainty, he rose slowly to his feet. By the time he

was erect he had decided what to say.

"Sir, with all respect to you as a Prince and my Commander, I will not

apologise to the Marquesa for doing as the law lays down. I will apologise

for not realising that she is an innocent."

An innocent. A simpleton, in other words. He hoped the distinction would

penetrate.

It did. The Marquesa stiffened with fury and the countenance of the

Prince began to purple; Don Miguel braced himself for the impact of his

royal wrath. But the tension broke suddenly -- broke against a thin,

rather high-pitched laugh. With amazement Don Miguel realised it came

from Father Ramón.

"Commander, that is an apology exactly meet for the case," the Jesuit

exclaimed. "Surely anyone but an innocent would have wondered how so

magnificent an artefact came to be on sale instead of in a museum?"

The Prince thought that over for a moment. Eventually he gave a tentative

chuckle, and the chuckle developed into an outright guffaw in which the

other General Officers joined. To the accompaniment of their mirth the

Marquesa hastened from the hall, her shoulders bowed with humiliation.

Don Miguel, surprised by so easy a victory, slowly resumed his chair.

"Well!" the Prince said at length. "I suppose I can look forward now

to an almighty row with my cousin the Duchess of Jorque -- but never

mind, Father, you were perfectly correct about Navarro's apology, as

I realise now I think it over. It would be a good thing, though, if we

sorted the rest of the matter out before the storm breaks; at least I'd

have a chance to argue back!" He raised a stern finger to point to Don

Miguel. "Since you triggered the crisis, I trust you've taken steps of

your own to sort it out? For instance, have you discovered where the

mask came from in our own time?"

More than ever uncertain of himself, because it struck him as somehow

unfitting for a Prince of the Blood to refer so casually to the likelihood

of a family quarrel, Don Miguel said, "Ah -- well, sir, as you know,

Don Arcimboldo Ruiz bought the mask from the merchant Higgins, who is

present. And the latter maintains that he in his turn acquired it from

a stranger who called at his shop in the market outside Jorque."

"Yes, I've already been told about this." The Prince turned thoughtful

eyes on Higgins, who tried to sink through the seat of his chair; he was a

middle-aged man without great personality. "Concerning this stranger, then!

What proof did he offer that he was