“I’m so glad you came before she returned; there’s so much I want to tell you.”
“Who do you mean?” I asked.
“Sh—Madame—er, my sister-in-law,” he replied, with a sigh.
“Your sister-in-law!” I exclaimed. “Why, I didn’t know you were married.”
“Neither am I,” said his Majesty, with a puzzled frown. “That’s the awkward part about it.”
“But how on earth can you possibly have a sister-in-law, unless you have a wife or a married brother?” I asked.
“Well, I’ve never quite been able to understand how they make it out,” said the poor Wallypug, sorrowfully; “but I believe it is something mixed up with the Deceased Wife’s Sister’s Bill, and the fact that my uncle, The Grand Mochar of Gamboza, was married twice. Anyhow, when I returned from London I found this lady, who says that she is my sister-in-law, established here in the palace; and—and—” his Majesty sank his voice to a whisper, “she rules me with a rod of iron.”
I had no time to make further inquiries, for just then the door opened, and a majestic-looking person sailed into the room, and after looking me up and down with elevated eyebrows, pointed her finger at me, and said, in a stern voice:
“And who is this person, pray?”
“Oh, this,” said his Majesty, smiling nervously, and bringing me forward, “is the gentleman who was so kind to us in London, you know. Allow me to present him, Mr. Er—er——”