rothers, Frederick and Henry Zoller,
accompanied by their servant, with the intention of travelling through
Holland.

The king placed his signature under this important document.

"Now, it is only necessary to put the state seal under it, and we shall
be free; but how will we get a light?"

"I cannot tell who is a rascal, you may be one for aught I know."

Balby uttered an angry exclamation and stepped nearer to the daring
postmaster, while his servant shook his fist threateningly at Niclas.

The king dispelled their anger with a single glance.

"Sir," he said to Niclas, "God made my face, and it is not my fault if
it does not please you, but concerning our passports, they are lying
well preserved in my carpet-bag. I should think that would suffice you."

"No, that does not suffice me," screamed Niclas. "Show me your passports
if I am to believe that you are not vagabonds."

"You dare to call us vagabonds?" cried the king, whose patience now also
appeared exhausted, and whose clear brow was slightly clouded.

"The police consider everyone criminal until he has proved he is not
so," said Niclas, emphatically.

The king's anger was already subdued.

"In the eyes of the police, criminality is then the normal condition of
mankind," he said, smilingly.

"Sir, you have no right to question the police so pointedly," said
Niclas, sternly. "You are here to be questioned, and not to question."

The king laughingly arrested the uplifted arm of his companion.

"Mon Dieu," he murmured, "do you not see that this is amusing me highly?
Ask, sir, I am ready to answer."

"Have you a pass?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then give it to me to vise."

"To do so, I should have to open my bag, and that would be very
inconvenient, but, if the law absolutely demands it, I will do it."

"The law demands it."

The king motioned to his servant, and ordered him to carry the bag into
the house.

"Why this delay--why this unnecessary loss of time?" asked Niclas.
"The postilion can wait no longer. If he arrives too late at the next
station, he will be fined."

"I will not wait another minute," cried the postilion, determinately.
"get in, or I shall start without you."

"Show me your passports, and then get in," cried Niclas.

The strangers appeared confused and undecided. Niclas looked
triumphantly at his immense crowd of listeners, who were gazing at him
with amazement, awaiting in breathless stillness the unravelling of this
scene.