“I have never seen it, Joseph,” replied the young man, “and possibly this fact may assure you where all else has failed that I am no true king of Lutha, after all.”
“Ah, no, your majesty,” replied the old servitor; “it but makes assurance doubly sure as to your true identity, for the fact that you have not the ring is positive proof that you are king and that they have sought to hide the fact by removing the insignia of your divine right to rule in Lutha.”
Barney could not but smile at the old fellow’s remarkable logic. He saw that nothing short of a miracle would ever convince Joseph that he was not the real monarch, and so, as matters of greater importance were to the fore, he would have allowed the subject to drop had not the man attempted to recall to the impoverished memory of his king a recollection of the historic and venerated relic of the dead monarchs of Lutha.
“Do you not remember, sir,” he asked, “the great ruby that glared, blood-red from its center, and the four sets of golden wings that formed the setting? From the blood of Charlemagne was the ruby made, so history tells us, and the setting represented the protecting wings of the power of the kings of Lutha spread to the four points of the compass. Now your majesty must recall the royal ring, I am sure.”
Barney only shook his head, much to Joseph’s evident sorrow.
“Never mind the ring, Joseph,” said the young man. “Bring your rope and lead me to the floor above.”
“The floor above? But, your majesty, we cannot reach the vaults and tunnel by going upward!”
“You forget, Joseph, that we are going to fetch the Princess Emma first.”
“But she is not on the floor above us, sire; she is upon the same floor as we are,” insisted the old man, hesitating.
“Joseph, who do you think I am?” asked Barney.