r the situation was
somewhat embarrassing. They had parted with unreconciled views, and by
no stretch of terms could their relationship any longer be regarded as
friendly. All the same, on such an occasion it was incumbent upon the
Prime Minister to say the correct thing, and he had said it: he had
described the outrage as "a dastardly attempt," and the immunity of his
sovereign as "a happy and almost miraculous escape" for which none had
more reason to be thankful than himself and his colleagues; he had also
said that the passionate attachment of the people of Jingalo to the
person of their ruler had now been made abundantly evident, and he
trusted might ever so continue.

Later in the day, when the short ceremony of Parliament's closing was
over (for it was impossible under the circumstances to return to stiff
formality, no one being in the mood for it), later in the day, he again
presented himself, and besought a private audience. And then--while once
more repeating what he had said previously, almost in the same
words,--he showed that he had something very serious of which to deliver
himself.

He began with a great parade of leaving the matter to the King's
decision only; his duty was merely to state the case as it would strike
the world.

"We are in your Majesty's hands," he said, "and I have no wish to revive
a discussion in which your Majesty has by right the last word. I have
only to ask whether the circumstances of the last few hours have in any
way affected your Majesty's decision."

As usual this formal insistence upon his "majesty" aroused the King's
distrust; with his ministers in privacy he always disliked it. But all
he said was: "Why should it?"

The Prime Minister pursed his lips and elaborately paused, as though
finding it difficult to express himself. Then he said--

"After an attempted assassination so nearly successful, abdication would
have a different effect to what your Majesty presumably intended."

"How?" inquired the King. But though he asked he already knew; and
mentally his jaw dropped, as a new apparition of failure rose up and
confronted him.

"It might seem to reflect upon your Majesty's personal courage: about
which, I need hardly say, I myself have no doubt whatever."

"I see," said the King. His voice sounded the depression which had again
begun to overwhelm him.

"I have no wish to press your Majesty," the Premier went on; "but at the
present moment we are still under ord