ested on his arm tightened its grip the very instant
that word royalty passed his lips. Now it relaxed suddenly, dropped
away, and he scarcely recognized the voice that spoke next, so unlike
to Cleek's it was, so thick was the tremulous note that pulsated
through it.

"Royalty?" it repeated. "Speak up, please. What have you found out?
What do you know of me that you make use of that term?"

"What everybody in the world will know by to-morrow. Count Irma has
told! Count Irma has come, as the special envoy of the people,
for Queen Karma's son! For the King they want! For you!" flung out
Narkom, getting excited as he proceeded. "It's all out at last
and--I know now. Everybody does. I'm to lose you. Mauravania is
to take you from me after all. A palace is to have you--not the
Yard. Get in, please, sir--Sire--your Majesty. Get in. They're
waiting for you at the embassy. Get in and go! Good luck to you! God
bless you! I mean that. It's just about going to break my heart,
Cleek, but I mean it every word! Mind the step, Sire. Make room
for me on the seat there, you two; and then off to the embassy
as fast as you can streak it, Lennard. His Majesty is all ready to
start."

"Not yet, please," a voice said quietly; then a hand reached out from
the interior of the limousine, dropped upon Mr. Narkom's shoulder
and, tightening there, drew him over the step and into the car.
"Your old seat, my friend. Here beside me. My memory is not a short
one and my affections not fickle. All right _now_, Lennard. Let
her go!"

Then the door closed with a smack, the limousine came round with a
swing, and, just as in those other days when it was the Law that
called, not the trumpet-peal from a throne, the car went bounding off
at the good old mile-a-minute clip on its fly-away race for London.

* * * * *

It ended, that race, in front of the Mauravanian embassy; and Cleek's
love for the spectacular must have come near to being surfeited
that night, for the building was one blaze of light, one glamour
of flags and flowers and festooned bunting; and looking up the
steps, down which a crimson carpet ran across the pavement to the
very kerbstone, he could see a double line of soldiers in the
glittering white-and-silver of the Mauravanian Royal Guard,--plumed
and helmeted--standing with swords at salute waiting to receive
him; and over the arched doorway the royal arms emblazoned, and
above them--picked