throne stands in the constitu- Horthy has accomplished much. tion of Hungary. Following During King Karl's detention last year, the Government were forced to make legislation that formally deposed their king. The bill they passed on 3rd November 1921 had three clauses, of which the first deposed King Karl; the second abrogated the Pragmatic Sanction, which had enacted that the Emperor of Austria should also be King of Hungary; and the third reaffirmed that Hungary was a monarchy. The Allies, no doubt prompted by the Little Entente, submitted that this bill did not forbid that a Habsburg should again reign, to which Hungary replied that the bill, which had been a difficult and a humiliating one, was already law. And the Government at that time gave their honourable assurance that they should not elect a king without the consent of the Allies. I am not rash enough to venture on a prophecy of what even one month will bring forth in Central Europe, but I hope there will be a continuance of the present order with Admiral Horthy as regent. The only alternatives-proclamation of a king or of a republic-are fraught with dangers, and the past eighteen months conditions of public safety have improved out of recognition: Jews are no longer beaten in the streets, and people may walk abroad after dark without fear of being murdered. When Bolshevism swept over the land, Horthy was the only man strong enough to muster a party and fight it. Coming into power after two revolutions, he kept control through the pillaging of the Roumanian occupation. And all the while his task was of the most formidable. The country was surrounded by enemies who had the ears of the Entente, and whose policy, put bluntly, was that Hungary should not recover to become their rival; the political parties within were totally disunited and generally at a deadlock; the popularity of the regency was on the wane; and Horthy's personal feelings, although subservient to his patriotism, were all of loyalty to King Karl. Now the chief cause of internal disunion no longer exists, the regency is securer, and the problem of kingship may be left to solve itself naturally during the ten years of Prince Otto's minority. W. D. MACNAUGHTON. MURDER DISQUALIFIES. BY ALAN GRAHAM. CHAPTER XIII. MRS MURDOCH and Jean Rintoul entered the policies of Dorning House by the East Lodge. No one was up, but the gate was not locked, and they had no difficulty in getting through. According to instructions received from the minister, the bicycle-lamps were extinguished as soon as the public road was left behind. There was no need to announce their approach to a possible enemy. As they rode up the drive they were shrouded in a darkness and a silence that made them both tremble. The unknown that lay before them, with all its possibilities, was surely sufficient to unnerve two unprotected girls. They pedalled along in silence, neither caring to break the stillness of the night. Suddenly, somewhere ahead, a strange light flickered-or rather, first there was a weird lightening of the darkness, and then an irregular ebb and flow of luminosity which waxed stronger with each passing moment. A distant purring broke gradually upon their ears, and suddenly, rounding a curve in the drive, they saw, coming from the direction of the West Lodge, the glaring headlights of a motor-car. "It "Oh!" gasped Jean. must be Uncle Rufus!" "Hurry, hurry!" cried Mrs Murdoch, putting all her weight upon the pedals. They had the shorter distance to go, but the car was coming up at three times their speed. Then, as they swung round into the curve in front of the house, there was a sudden shout, and they were seized and dragged from their cycles. Jean heard the thud of running feet and her own name called gaspingly. She called aloud in answer. Next moment they were in a full glare of light, as the great car swung round towards the house. Jean saw a scarred and determined face-sufficiently villainous in the strong lights and black shadows cast by the head-lamps-leaning over her, and knew that she was gripped tightly in the arms belonging to it. "I do not wish to hurt you, but you cannot go on," said a voice, civilly enough. Then all became hopeless confusion. There was a rush she recognised for a moment Mr Murdoch and Rab Wilson Copyrighted in the United States of America. -and then a counter-rush, as it seemed by a mob, and her friends were swept away like seaweed before the tide, and still she hung in the close embrace of those iron arms. suddenly struck up and her wonderful voice rung out into the night, not one of the spectators would have seen in it aught incongruous. She stretched an arm gracefully towards the door of Dorning House. "Knock, Honourable Owen," she said, and her rich voice stirred her supporters to renewed enthusiasm, and roused The car had now stopped before Dorning House, but as it had swung up a weird figure stood upon the footboard, hanging to a bracket and shouting wildly"A Francesca ! A Fran- in the others, to whom it was cesca!" unknown, a new interest in the strange and fascinating figure. It was Bubbly, his operahat tilted precariously, his coat open, displaying a wide expanse of white shirt-front, and his eyes starting from his head with excitement. "A Francesca ! A Francesca!" he shouted again as the car stopped, and he jumped to the ground to swing open the door for his mistress, swaying slightly upon his feet as he clung for support to the handle. 66 Look out for Rintoul, boys," cried McNeil, fully occupied with Jean, who struggled angrily in his embrace. "This is the danger-point. Leave the Signorina to Owen, and keep your eyes skinned. I don't like the look of things. It seems too easy." Francesca stepped from the car into the full glare of the head-lights, and the whole scene at once took on the air of a stage setting. Her crimson cloak had slipped down over her arms, and the searching lights played full upon her flushed face and snow-white shoulders. Had an orchestra VOL. CCXI.-NO. MCCLXXX. Bubbly advanced-none too steadily-and mounted the wide steps to the door. He gave a resounding double knock that jarred strangely on the spectators. 66 Open, in the name of your new mistress, Signorina Francesca Marinetti." This was intended to be impressive, and might have been so had not Bubbly hiccupped in the middle of the "Francesca." There was a sudden silence -a silence pregnant with the unknown. Then, within the house, dully, a door banged. A flickering glimmer of light shone in the glass above the door, and shuffling footsteps could be heard within. There was the rattle of the chain, the scrounge of an unoiled bolt turning in the lock, and slowly the door opened, to show old Ronald Aitken, an oillamp held high in his hand, and his old eyes blinking helplessly in the glare of the headlights. 2 E "Wha is't, an' what is't ye want?" he asked, as a matter of principle, for well he knew the answer to his second question at least. "It is I, Francesca Marinetti, the daughter of Margaret Rintoul, come to claim my rightful inheritance," answered Francesca from the middle of the stage. "Hurrah!" shouted Bubbly, wildly waving his hat. By this time he probably imagined himself a chorus of villagers. "Aweel," said Ronald with a sigh, as he opened the door wide, "I maun follow my instructions. Come awa' ben, mistress." Francesca advanced to the foot of the steps, and had her foot upon the first, ready to mount to the door, when a heavy tread echoed through the hall, and a loud voice called Hold! Behind old Ronald Aitken, and towering above him, appeared the leonine head of Rufus Rintoul. "You're too late, niece. I regret to disappoint you, but you'll admit you were warned." Then, from the darkness, came the voice of McNeil "He has broken the rules. He was in the house before sunrise. Mr Aitken, I claim a foul." "You're right," cried Murdoch, in the grip of Televant and Lindsay. "Rufus Rintoul, you have not played fair." Ronald Aitken shook his head sadly. "Dinna forget it's me that's the judge," he said slowly. "An' ye can tak' it frae me that he wusna in the hoose twa meenutes syne. I was expec'in' this. I ken fine hoo he got in, an' I canna say but what he is within his richts." "Though fine you'd like to, you old scoundrel," added Rufus, who now stepped forward and took the centre of the doorway. McNeil, seeing that there was no longer need to hold her, released his prisoner. 66 "Miss Rintoul, I apologise," he said shortly. Acting for Signorina Marinetti, it was my duty to hold you back." Jean said nothing, but shook herself, as though to remove a feeling infinitely distasteful to her. Mrs Murdoch, her husband, and Rab Wilson were also released from restraint, and the whole party gathered instinctively in a semicircle round the door, leaving Francesca in the open centre, facing her triumphant uncle. A startling change had come over Francesca. The crimson cloak had dropped to the ground, where it lay like a pool of blood at her feet. She stood erect and graceful in unrelieved black, her face now as white as her arms and breast, and her great black eyes burning like beacons, as they rested fixedly upon the tall figure smiling contemptuously in the doorway. For what seemed an interminable time she stood statu esque, all eyes upon her in anticipation of somethingsomething strange, even terrible-they knew not what. Then suddenly her rigid pose changed, and she became all lithe motion. Stooping in a flash, she gathered up the hem of her skirt. For a bare moment there was a glimpse of long silk stocking and graceful leg, and the next, stiletto in hand, she was half-way up the steps, the gleaming blade poised for the heart of Rufus Rintoul. 66 'Remember the will-murder disqualifies!" cried Rufus, in no way disconcerted. He still wore the smile of amusement that might have greeted the play of some wayward child. dued, led her towards the waiting car. McNeil, stung by her words of contempt, and fired by a sudden idea, moved amongst his men. Suddenly his voice barked sharply in an order. "Now, boys, forward." There was a rush for the door. Rufus Rintoul watched the advance contemptuously. "Brute force? A poor move, McNeil, and not unexpected. Stand clear, Ronald." As the foremost of the attackers reached the top step, the door slammed in his face, and the bolt shot raucously. "The windows," shouted McNeil. Smash one, and make a way in. We'll turn him out by force." 66 The dead Laird had, however, anticipated tactics of this character, and during the last year of his life rendered Dorning House impregnable to attack by defending all the lower windows with stout iron bars. It was not his intention that the citadel should be carried by assault. . Having made this discovery, McNeil gave up the attack as hopeless. He turned to find the car gone, bearing with it his mistress and Owen. "Well, boys, we can do no more at present," he said gloomily. "We'd better follow the Signorina." Throughout these stirring in "Come, Honourable Owen, cidents, Jean and Mrs Murdoch take me away." had remained passive by their Bubbly, sobered and sub- supporters, the minister and |