“I’d rather go to my rooms; but if this is the way that His Majesty’s guests are usually treated, by all means lead the way.”
He bowed very ceremoniously and took me to his office. Here he repeated his apologies and asked me my name.
“There will doubtless be some directions here,” he added, taking a book from his desk.
I didn’t want to give my name if it could be helped; and I hesitated.
He noticed the hesitation and frowned.
“My name is Harper C. Denver. I am an American. I arrived here three days ago. You will probably recognize this ring of His Majesty’s as a guarantee of my position.”
But there are always two views as to the possession of a Royal jewel; and this blockhead took the wrong one. I might have known he would; and I could almost read in his eyes that he suspected me of having obtained it by some wrongful means.
He pretended to search in his book for some mention of my name, while all the time he was asking himself how I could have got hold of one of His Imperial Master’s rings.
“I regret exceedingly that I find no reference here to you,” he said, his manner still excessively polite. “It is very awkward and very unfortunate. But I am afraid I cannot permit you to enter the Palace—without further instructions, that is. No doubt, however, you can suggest some one to whom I can send?”
He said this with the air of a man who feels he has got you.