"I tell you, Sir, I'll lose my place and perkisites if I show the hapartments to you. I dare not do it."
"But," said I, "there is an order from Lord ——, will not that be sufficient?"
"Yes," said he, "his Lordship is a great friend of the Queen, but I'm afraid this order is a mistake, and only refers to the public apartments, which I have no hobjection, Sir, to your seeing."
I began to think I would fail if I did not find a weak spot in the gorgeous flunkey.
Suddenly a thought struck me. I asked myself "who has been the most popular and best loved American in England?"
Echo answered, "George Peabody."
And "why," the inward monitor asked.
Echo answered again, "because he gave so much money away," for I was positive that the English (servants at least) did not care for any of his less showy virtues, in comparison with that of bestowing millions from his private purse! Why, the Queen herself give him her portrait. Did she not?
The flunkey seemed to read my soul the while that I communed with myself.
I felt that I must throw myself in the breach. Suddenly I slipped a bright new sovereign into the man's hand. His fingers closed on the shining gold coin like the teeth of a vise and his eyes glistened. I knew then from his look that I would have to pistol the flunkey on the spot before I could get back my sovereign. We were going toward the private apartments of her Britannic Majesty, who is also Defender of the Faith.