There was a pause, and then the King said, “I already know something of you, Mr Lechworthy. I read your speeches at the time of the South African war, and an article about you which appeared a year or more ago in a paper called the Spectator. I have your pamphlet about Setton Park, and I have many copies of the Morning Guide containing articles signed by you. I cannot tell you with what joy I found it was you that the Snowflake had brought. You, perhaps more than any other Englishman, can help us here.”
“Every minute, sir, I become more surprised. Here, many hundreds of miles from civilisation, I find a native king who speaks English like an Englishman, procures and reads the English papers, even knows something of such a seventh-rate politician and busy-body as myself. But, sir, with the best will in the world to help you in any way that my conscience permits, I don’t see what I am to do.”
“If you are kind enough to permit me to dine with you to-night, I will explain everything.”
They had reached the beach, and once more the King changed the subject.
“You breakfasted at the Exiles’ Club? No? I thought perhaps that might be so. Well, it is all ready here.” The King led the way to a broad balcony of his unofficial residence, well sheltered from the wind. “You will be more comfortable at my house inland—here there is not much.”
Certainly, the plates and cups were of various patterns and had seen service; the forks and spoons were not coated with a precious metal, and the use of the Union Jack as a cloth to the low breakfast-table could only be excused by those who saw that a compliment was intended. But Mr Lechworthy drank the best coffee he had met in the islands, and devoured in blind faith delicious fruits of which he did not even know the names. “Also very good,” he murmured at every fresh experiment. King Smith had business needing his attention elsewhere, and it was Tiva and Ioia who waited upon his guests. Nominally these two girls did not breakfast, but Tiva ate sugar when she happened to come across it, and Ioia drank coffee out of Hilda’s cup when Hilda had finished with it. In the intervals they learned the word “Hilda,” and exchanged the story of the robber-crab for hints on hair-dressing. Of their own toilette they spoke with an innocent freedom, utterly open-air and natural, which to some European girls might have been disconcerting. But Hilda had picked up the right point of view, an invaluable possession to the traveller anywhere. She had talked and played with native girls in Tahiti and other islands, but she had found nothing so charming as Tiva and Ioia.
“When shall we go on to the palace?” Hilda asked.
“Sometime—plenty quick,” said Tiva. The answer was not precise; but then to Tiva the question was idle, for what on earth does time matter?
“I wonder,” said Mr Lechworthy, “if you could tell us anything about this palace? It must be an interesting place.”
Mr Lechworthy inspired the girls with some awe. It was quite clear to them that he was a very great chief indeed, and possibly King Edward VII. Never before had King Smith received any white man in this way. Wherefore Tiva hid her face in Hilda’s shoulder. Ioia said thoughtfully that the palace was a “plenty-plenty big house.” She had thoughts of adding a few picturesque inventions—it was so hard for her not to give everybody everything they wanted—but she refrained. It subsequently transpired, in talk with Hilda, that neither Tiva nor Ioia had ever seen the King’s official residence. It stood in a big garden, hidden by trees, and the whole place had been taboo to all native women. A few of the native men had charge of it, and no one else had been allowed to enter. This would be changed now. Tiva and Ioia were to reside there as long as Hilda remained, and it was clear that they looked forward with delight to this privilege and, possibly, to the satisfaction of their curiosity.