"There is no very great resemblance to the king, now that the wig is removed," Jessie whispered to Maxwell who stood beside her. "Do you know I rather like his face. Who is he?"
"Prince Peretori of Nassa, a second cousin of the King of Asturia," Maxwell explained. "There are many mad princes in Europe but none quite so mad as Peretori. He is not bad or wicked, he is simply utterly irresponsible. The great object in his life is the playing of practical jokes. Also he is a wonderfully fine actor—he would have made a great name on the stage. It is one of his boasts that he can make up to resemble anybody."
"He doesn't look like an enemy," Jessie said in the same low voice.
"He's not," Maxwell replied. "In fact Peretori is nobody's enemy but his own. I should not be in the least surprised to find that he had been made use of in this business."
"Why have you committed this crowning act of folly?" the queen asked coldly.
"Is it any worse than usual?" the prince asked. "My dear cousin, I did it for a wager. The price of my success was to be a thousand guineas. Now a thousand guineas to me at the present moment represents something like salvation. I am terribly hard up, I am painfully in debt. In this country those commercial brutal laws take no heed of station. I ignored certain civil processes with the result that a common tradesman can throw me into gaol at any moment for a debt that I simply cannot pay. That I am always ready for a joke you are aware. But a remunerative joke like this was not to be denied."
"Therefore you believe that you have won the bet from Countess Saens and Prince Mazaroff?" Lechmere asked. "Do they admit that you have won?"
"They do, my somewhat heavy-handed friend," the prince cried gaily. "Though how on earth you came to know that the countess and Mazaroff had any hand in the business——"
"We will come to that presently," Lechmere resumed. "You talked that matter over with the countess and Mazaroff and they gradually persuaded you to try this thing. You were to go to the editor of the Mercury and pass yourself off as the King of Asturia. You were to tell him all kinds of damaging things, and he was to believe you. If he believed you to be the king, you earned your money."
"Never was a sum of money gained more easily," Peretori cried.