'I have got a fine coat to protect the throat.'
Montague went outside and cried down the stairs to know whether a parcel had been brought into the house. The parcel was carried upstairs into Mr. Wogan's room. The Colonel unwrapped it, and spread out on the bed a blue and silver livery.
'A most distasteful garb,' said Wogan.
'It is indeed not what we would choose for the descendant of kings,' murmured Montague gently as he smoothed out the coat.
'Viceroys, Colonel, viceroys.'
'Viceroys, then, Mr. Wogan; but no doubt they murdered, and robbed, and burned, and ravished, just like kings. Besides, you have an example. For I seem to have heard of another Wogan, who went to Innspruck as a shopkeeper.'
'To be sure,' cried Nick. 'That is the finest story in the world. It was my brother Charles--'
'You shall tell me that story another time,' said Montague, and Wogan stripped off his clothes.
'Will you tell me what I am to do when I am dressed?'
'You will go to a certain house.'